Tag: single life

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personal

Never have I ever…

Finding the things we look for

Forgot to mention that, while I was at my in-laws last week, we got onto the topic of how many pushups I could do in one minute.

I’d never tried to figure it out before so I cranked out about 60 in 45 seconds, but those last 15 seconds were agonizing. Agonizing.

I could only get out 19 more; try as I might, I could NOT get to 80 before my muscles gave out.

Which they did and I collapsed onto the floor. My son – god love him – was disappointed:

Him: For god’s sake, get up!
Me: (breathing heavily) Everyone’s a critic…

That’s my boy, folks.

During one of our late-night outings with copious amounts of legal pharmaceuticals, the Firecracker and I started playing a game of “Never have I ever.”

Gotta say, dating someone from the south is entertaining on so many levels.

Her: You’ve never been to a field party?
Me: I don’t even know what that is.
Her: It’s a party. In a field. With a bonfire.
Me: I figured out the first part on my own.
Her: My favorite one was on Moo Cow Lane.
Me: That’s not a real place.
Her: (laughing) Yes, it is!

So many levels.

On a different, but related, note. There are also lots of unexpected perks to dating another parent.

For example, she and her son came by the other day for a playdate. They’re close in age so they get along well.

Unfortunately, in the middle of it, my kid tapped me on the shoulder and said that he didn’t feel well. I figured he was just tired but then he said he had a sore throat so I gave him some Tylenol.

Her: Take his temperature.
Me: Not a bad idea, ok, hold on. (later) Shoot. 103.
Her: OK, we should go.

It was impressive, I gotta say, how her maternal instincts kicked in.

Tthought about that woman I briefly dated that said that she didn’t mind that I had a kid.

That woman and I got along great for the few times we saw each other but once she said that, I lost all interest.

Chatted with a buddy about it a few days after I ended it.

Him: Your kid’s so great, I’m sure she woulda come around.
Me: (shaking head) I couldn’t take that chance. My kid’s made of awesome; anyone who wouldn’t want someone like him in her life, I wouldn’t want in mine.
Him: (shrugging) Well, hopefully you’ll meet someone you like.
Me: I will. We all find the things we look for, good or bad, one way or another.

Location: this evening, running into two of the kid’s teachers from when he was a kid just off Broadway
Mood: potentially sick
Music: always been the weird one out, fucking up that little town (Spotify)
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dating personal

All in

Being at a loss for words

The Firecracker had a happy hour with her co-workers the other day and invited me to come along.

I was flattered that she wanted me to meet them. The last time anyone introduced me to their coworkers in a social setting was years ago, although I did stop by an office here and there.

Unfortunately, I’d gotten hit with a MASSIVE hike in my monthly real estate taxes, which threw me and alla my plans for a loop.

Honestly, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you how much more I’m paying per month to live in the same damn place I’ve been in for years.

In any case, I’m never late for these kinda things but, because I was juggling a buncha things related to this unexpected new bill, I was 15 minutes late.

Felt awful about that. The Firecracker and her coworkers were all seated in a nearly empty bar when I arrived.

Me: (breathlessly) So sorry I’m late. What’s the topic of discussion besides my tardiness?
Co-Worker1: We were talking about Greece and olives.
Me: (taking a seat) Lovely! Do you remember back when there was that whole pink slime nonsense where people were up-in-arms over putting lye in meat? I told several people that, historically, olives cannot be consumed without soaking them in lye first. They didn’t believe me but thank goodness for Google.

It was all pretty fun after that.

Me: Sorry I have to drink and run. Single parenting and alla that. (reach for my wallet)
Her Boss: (waving his hand) It’s on me, really.
Me: Dammit, I shoulda ordered more expensive stuff.

Because we both had to pick up our kids, and we lived in the same hood, we left together.

Her: (walking outside with me) OMG, you really are good in social settings.
Me: Like I said, you can bring me anywhere, anytime, and cut me loose. I’ll make friends. I have zero social anxiety.
Her: Seriously!

During the happy hour, I felt like the Firecracker was proud that she was sitting there with me. She was legit bragging about me, which was something that’s not happened to me in ages.

In fact, I’ve been a shady secret for so many people for a long time, for reasons that I understand – and I myself often caused.

Gotta say, it was refreshing to be the opposite of a shady secret. She was saying, This is my fella.

On that note, even though we were super early in whatever this thing was/is between us, we chatted about what we were hoping for and doing.

The details of that talk are kinda private and somewhat irrelevant.

But when it comes to dating – at least in modern America – there’re really only three choices:

      1. Roll the dice and leave someone that’s great to keep searching for your person, who – hopefully – exists.
      2. Cash out and give up. Thank god for Netflix and the gym.
      3. Cards down, all in, and hope for the best.

It’s been years since I’ve done number three. And that was all heartbreak and mistakes, by everyone involved.

Which is why I bounced from number 1 and number 2 for alla this time.

But I’ve said for years that I’m looking for something that I can’t put into words.

And I find myself at a loss for words right now.

Me: So, what now, then? Cards down, all in? Or we rolling the dice again?
Her: (shaking head) No. I told you – I wanna keep you.
Me: What about your rotation?
Her: There’s no more rotation. I cut the last guy loose yesterday. Cards down, I’m all in, Logan Lo.
Me: (nodding) I was hoping you’d say that, Firecracker. All in, then. We’re all in.

Location: this afternoon, near Columbia. Day-drinking
Mood: hopeful
Music: I really wanna leave this party so, how ’bout you start it up? (Spotify)
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What we could be

Looking for green flags

Firecracker: I like you and you like me and we’re trying to see what we could be.
Me: Oh, that rhymes.
Her: I know, I said it.

While I still believe that most of my luck is of the stripe that no one wants, I do gotta say that I feel lucky that I meet so many good souls in my life.

My buddy CoB makes a number of appearances in this blog and in my life in general.

I’ll just be doing one rando thing or another and I’ll get a completely non sequitur message from her that comes outta nowhere.

Case in point, she sent me the following images while telling me about what was going on her life.

Her: Took myself out after [after an awful day]. I DESERVE A RESTAURANT WEEK LUNCH!
Me: You def do! (later) OMG, you just massively changed my dinner plans. I was going to take the Firecracker to a casual bar thingy but you reminded me that it’s restaurant week so now we’re heading to The Library at The Astor – thanks to you!
Her: Ohhhhh I love that place! Have all the funz!

I was in NJ, dropping the kiddo off at my in-laws and rushing for time. The Firecracker and I met up around me as I got ready in 10 minutes, and we headed down to Astor Place together.

Her: Are you trying to impress me with your directional skills?
Me: God, no. I would get lost in a sealed paper bag.

Neither she nor I had ever been to The Library. One massive plus of going to a nice joint is that it’s usually less crowded.

It turns out that we share a lot of the same tastes in food except for three major things:

      • Most of my diet consists of some form of peanut butter – after all, the kid and I go through close to two pounds of the stuff per week. She cannot stand the sight nor smell of it.
      • She doesn’t like Indian food.
      • She can’t handle spicy food.

Buddy: Dude, I swear to god, if you mess this up over peanut butter…
Me: How dumb do you think I am?
Him: (stares)
Me: Fair…

Finally, she’s very good at expressing herself, which I really appreciate. I think I’ve spent years talking with people but never actually communicating with them.

Her: You know, instead of looking for red flags, maybe look for green flags.
Me: Green flags?
Her: (nodding) Reasons to do this thing instead of not.
Me: Well, you do have a lotta those, Firecracker.
Her: As do you, Logan Lo.


Location: late this afternoon, getting midday drinks in midtown
Mood: always hungry
Music: If we never met, I’d be drunk, waking up in someone else’s bed (Spotify)
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personal

Daydreaming of more

The CRKT Knife Kit

Me: Well, Firecracker, don’t you look nice.
Her: (laughing) Oh, I love the way you talk, Logan Lo.

Forgot to mention that I headed out to my mom and sister for Lunar New Year.

It was good seeing family. Gotta remember to do that more often and more regularly.

Like always, the hours drag but the years sprint away.

Met up with the Firecracker for an early morning burger the other day as well, after I dropped the kid off at school.

Me: This used to be a joint called The Royal Canadian Pancake House that sold pancakes as big as [a trashcan lid].
Her: That sounds ridiculous.
Me: (nodding) Totally was.

Like I said, there’s something incredibly convenient about seeing someone from the hood.

The fact that she’s sweet, smart, and hot doesn’t hurt.

Her: Let’s not give this thing a name, Lo. I like things how they are.
Me: (nodding) That’s fine. I take direction well.

Later that week, I brought her a salad because she was working from home and was down for company.

We’re finding that, with the exception of a couple bright-line differences, we seem to live similar lives.

Me: I also brought you some bread.
Her: (shaking head) You’re sweet but I don’t generally eat carbs. Usually just a protein and veggies.
Me: OMG, that’s exactly like me.

She makes me laugh because she only ever calls me by my full name, “Logan Lo,” or just “Lo.”

She reminds me of the kids in Peanuts that call Charlie Brown by his full name, or Calvin and Hobbes calling Susie Derkins, “Susie Derkins.”

I only ever call her the Firecracker because I know three people with the exact same name as her.

Plus, I think it’s apropos to her personality.

We’re breaking all our rules around each other for some reason. For example, she introduced me to both her dad and sister, as well as her kid, something that she doesn’t normally do.

I break rules for her too but that’s something I’ll just keep to myself.

 

Part of being a single-father is finding things that the kid and I can both do together.

I got him this wooden knife kit just to have something to do with him and was excited to put it together with him and talk about things like knife safety and such.

Unfortunately, he didn’t really understand that it was supposed to be a him-and-me thingy and he gave it to his sitter to put together with him.

Tried my best to hide my disappointment – after all, it was my fault that I didn’t tell him that it was a him-and-me thing – but I was still bummed that we couldn’t do it.

Still, I like this little life he and I have together.

But I daydream of more.

I wonder if “more” is in the cards for a fella like me.

Me: Thanks.
Her: For what?
Me: (shrugging) It’s nice having someone to daydream about. It’s been a long time since I could daydream about anyone without it hurting.
Her: (nodding) Yeah…

Location: earlier tonight, being told some bad news in NJ
Mood: so mad
Music: In my scarecrow dreams, when they smash my heart into smithereens (Spotify)
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OK, Boomer Logan

Yatzee

Her: Do you know what I wanna do right now?
Me: Yatzee?
Her: (laughs) I wanna watch Scenic Fights!

The Firecracker actually has a son slightly older than my own kid. While this was a bit surprising, it wasn’t really an issue for me.

Her: Am I your first MILF?
Me: (thinking) I think so?

Previously, I’d never entertained the thought of dating anyone with a kid just because I’d never done anything like that before.

But my buddy Miller extolled the virtues of it.

Him: Are you kidding? That’s the best. You have a built in playdate!
Me: I dunno.
Him: Expand your horizons! You have a kid, why shouldn’t she?

Only two people I’ve ever dated met the kid.

Personally, I think that the more good souls the kid meets, the better, but I understand her point of view, which is that she doesn’t want her kid to get super attached to a fella only to have him disappear.

She dated a few people before me but no one ever met her kid.

But my own kid and I had a weekend class thingy just a few blocks from her house.

Me: Do you have any interest in randomly running into me and my son on Saturday at 2:45 in the park?
Her: Maybe?
Me: Works for me.

Already had a full morning with the kid, and then the gym, and then this kid’s party thingy, and then a party with some other friends of mine so I was already packed to the gills.

What was one more wrinkle?

The gym was fun…for the most part.

Me: (bluffing) You got nuthin!
Him: OK, Boomer!
Me: (mock offended)  I’m GenX!
Him: (laughing) OK, Boomer!
Me: I’m gonna kill you!

After the gym, we were running late so I brought the kid to the local McD’s around the corner.

Me: I’ve failed as a parent.  (later) We’ll be at [the park] by 2:30 but I’m sure we’ll message beforehand.
Her: I’m positive you’ll message me before then.
Me: Don’t be so sure! You think I like you *that* much?
Her: Yup.

30 minutes later, I’m in the park and I see her come in with her son. She sits down and we “introduce” ourselves. After a little while, our kids start to interact.

It’s really quite cool, I must say.

We were out there in freezing cold for a solid two hours – I think some of the other parents were wondering what was going on.

Afterward, the kid and I walked them halfway home before heading to our last destination of the day.

Me: (holding out hand) It was lovely meeting you, Ms. Firecracker, and you too Little Firecracker.
Her: (taking hand) Nice meeting you Logan Lo, and you as well.

And then the boy and I went on our final adventure for the day but I’ll tell you about that tomorrow or something.

My normal modus operandi when I meet someone I really like is to immediately find 2-5 other people to date, if I’m not already seeing anyone else, so that I’m not obsessing over one person.

That’s served me well for decades. After all, I’m aware of how a lotta things work, particularly myself.

But I’m still upgrading my OS and trying to do things differently.

In fact, for the first time, I went the other way around, in a manner of speaking.

Like always, I’ll let you know how it goes.

Location: earlier today, reading the NY Times with the Firecracker
Mood: curious
Music: can’t help but fall right in, I don’t even stand a chance (Spotify)
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The other shoe

Aware of how things work

Her: I guess I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Me: Do you know where that saying came from? It came from packed tenement housing here in NYC back in the day. Mothers would put their kids to sleep and, late at night, a labourer would come home and loudly drop their shoe in the apartment, waking up the kids and making life hell for the family below them. But the worst part was when they took their time taking off the other shoe. These exhausted women would sit in their apartment, rocking their crying kid, and screaming in their heads, “Just drop the other fucking shoe already!”
Her: (thinking) You should be on a game show.
Me: I was.

The Firecracker came by the other night for dinner and I made some Fish Meunière, with cauliflower rice and a salad, which she seemed to enjoy.

Her: That was really good! (later) Although, I would have done a better job.
Me: What the hell?
Her: (laughing) I cook, Logan! When you make dinner for women that don’t cook, they’re gonna think that everything you make is great.
Me: (grumble)

Like I said, there was something familiar about us to each other but, at least, she figured out part of the reason I was familiar to her.

But I’ll tell you that part in a sec.

She also has a dog, but a very small one. That’s more of an issue than anything else.

First, I gotta say that having someone you’re dating live ten minutes from your pad is a game-changer.

Mainly, because we can do last-minute, unplanned things like lunch at the local diner.

Which is what we did the next day when I went over to her pad and chilled out while she got ready.

Her: I gotta blow-dry. It’s gonna get loud.
Me: I’m aware of how blow dryers work.
Her: I’m just telling you!

While she was getting ready, we just made some small talk as we were still getting to know each other.

Her: Which one?
Me: (laughing) Cash Cab.
Her: Cash Cab?! I loved that show! Really?
Me: Yeah, Google “Logan and Masa on Cash Cab.”

She did exactly that and, presently, I was in this stranger’s apartment watching myself on her television while she got ready.

It was all very surreal.

Her: I remember that episode! I remember you!
Me: Get outta town.
Her: No, really, I remember that episode and watching it. I swear I thought you looked familiar.
Me: That’s nuts.
Her: The first stop after I brush my teeth is your face.
Me: Good first stop.

The actual lunch was a bit nuts. We had just sat down and ordered at my local diner when I got word that I had to grab my son earlier than expected.

Me: I’m so sorry, I gotta dine and dash.
Her: No problem. Do you want me to drop it off later?
Me: Sure!

But after I got the boy, he asked for a playdate with onea his friends.

Me: You just got back!
Him: Please?!

So, I rang his friend’s dad, who told me to drop him off for a couplea hours.

Then I dashed back to see the Firecracker, who was still sitting having a cup of coffee.

Her: Hey, you’re back.
Me: I’m back. (thinking) Man, I shoulda thrown a scene, tossed a few things around, and then come back sheepishly apologizing.
Her: (laughs) Just sit down and eat.
Me: Done. I’m starving.

One of the earliest entries I ever wrote in this blog was a philosophical question as to the nature of hope.

Was/Is it the ultimate good or the ultimate evil?

After everything, I think it’s the latter. Hope brings us to such great heights, only to have us fall and almost crush us. The greater the hope, the greater the fall.

Every time I think, This time, it’ll be different, I’m always shown that it’s not.

And so, I try my best to just live and not hope any more. As much as any human can do, anywho.

Suppose I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, cause it always does.

But as much as I try not to hope that my life might possibly be different, I can’t help but do it.

And that just makes everything worse.

Location: earlier today, waiting in the rain with the boy for the next train to Manhattan
Mood: exhausted
Music: everything looks perfect from far away, come down now (Spotify)
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This is going well

Hello, Firecracker

I don’t write about most of my dates these days because social media in 2023 is a lot different than in was in 2006 and people get annoyed, even if there’s no real identifying information.

But also because they all start blending together into that soupy grey I dislike so much.

The same, “So, what do you do, who do you know, blah, blah, blah,” gets monotonous.

Me: So, Jane, what brought you to New York?
Her: Ann. My name is Ann.
Me: (nodding) This is going well.

But every so often, someone cuts through the hazy grey and gives me some colour.

I cancelled two other dates this week, although one was kinda mutual, but something about the blue-eyed blonde from my neighborhood made me not, despite my not feeling the best, what with all the medical issues popping up.

Plus, she really made everything super easy for me by agreeing to meet up at a bar just a few blocks south of my pad.

She was sitting at the bar in red with her back to me when I showed up. The seat next to her was open so I slid into it.

She turned to me and looked at me with eyes the colour of faded blue jeans. And you know I’ve always loved that.

We both looked at each other and laughed.

Her: (smiling) Hi, Logan!
Me: (laughing) Hello, Firecracker. Don’t you look nice.
Her: You too.

With some dates, conversation’s a struggle.

The actual exchanges are usually fine but it’s really the quality of the segues that make a conversation interesting or desultory.

Lemme tell you that the odds are much improved when someone has an easy laugh and upbeat enthusiasm.

Confidence helps…

Her: (mischievously) Anything you want to tell me?
Me: I take it you found the blog?
Her: (laughing) It’s the first thing that showed up when I googled you.
Me: (shrugging) I never mention it because it’s so easy to find.
Her: You date a lot.
Me: (nodding) I do. I like to say that I’m like Harvard. Anyone can apply, not everyone makes the cut.

..but like I’ve always said, the truth is a powerful thing. And true things are often funny and earnest at the same time.

Her: I’m like this dorky girl that’s attractive
Me: (chidingly) Ah, you admit you’re hot.
Her: Oh yeah, I’m hot.

Actually brought her to the same two bars that I brought my buddy, the Frenchman. Just because it was familiar and easy.

Too much of my life, lately, has been strange and difficult.

Me: Do you want to go to another bar?
Her: So, I take it this is going well?
Me: This is going well. (shaking head) Shit, I’m in trouble.
Her: Because I’m a buxom blonde?
Me: Well, yes. And you’re sweet. I like kindness. Kindness is hot because douchebag is forever.

I told her to eat the dried lime. That was a huge mistake.

We first met up at 7PM and didn’t call it a night until 3AM. Those are the types of interactions I hope for and it’s so rare it happens.

Even when it does, it doesn’t really mean anything.

Her: You’re an onion. [Every time I think I get you, there’s another layer.]
Me: I’ll take that as a compliment. (later) Thanks for a lovely evening.
Her: Same.
Me: I honestly never do this but…I don’t suppose you want to grab dinner [this week]?
Her: (smiling) Sure. It’s a date. Goodnight, Logan Lo.
Me: (nodding) Goodnight, Firecracker.

But hope springs eternal.

Location: earlier today, wondering if 9AM’s too early for a burger on Broadway. It wasn’t.
Mood: cautious
Music: me and luck had a dance but when it comes to you and me: No guts, no glory (Spotify)
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Another (almost) trip to the ER

It’s a date

On the night I taught the class, I took a heel to my forehead from one of the guys and saw stars.

The guy was apologetic – it was an accident, after all – but he’s been pretty wild before. I did manage to get the tap after we resumed so there’s that.

Fast forward a few days and I woke up with some eye irritation and a lot of floaters so my doctor brother strongly suggested that I get that looked at.

Didn’t wanna go back to the ER for the millionth time so I called a buncha places with no luck but then I found a place just a few blocks south of my pad on W 79th. They closed in 40 mins.

Receptionist: When can you get here?
Me: 20 mins? Less, maybe.
Her: Run!

So, I did.

Before I knew it, I was on the ground floor of a beautiful townhouse and getting stuff pointed and sprayed into my eye.

Honestly, I’m thrilled that I managed to find him versus having to head to the ER. And within walking running distance to boot.

Some 40 minutes later, I was being checked out. I was the last patient of the day so the doc and I got to talking.

Turns out that we had a lot in common as I shared what happened with my dad and Alison.

Him: You’ll be fine. No detached retina. The floaters will be a problem for a while but not much to do there.
Me: That’s a relief.
Him: I’m glad we met. Come back for a checkup in 4-6 weeks and we’ll chat some more.
Me: Sure thing, doc.

He dilated my pupils so getting home was an adventure in itself.

Almost got hit by a car more than once. It was like walking outside and staring right at the sun. Had something similar happen before I started writing this blog.

Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime.

Driver: WTF is wrong with you?! Are you @#$@# blind?
Me: Well, yeah, actually…

Speaking of beautiful things in my neighborhood, there’s this effervescent blonde from my neighborhood that I met recently.

She found something familiar about me and I, her.

Her: You really are so easy on the eyes.
Me: My mom thinks I’m dreamy.
Her: She has good taste.

After the GES all those years ago – and the fact that I had to avoid my fave bar for a few years because I kept running into women I dated there – I had a rule to not date women in my area.

GES was the last one, and that was 16 years ago.

edit: Actually, the Aerialist was the last one but that was so quick that I forgot about it.

But I’m trying some new things these days. Plus, her particular charms helped encourage me to break my rule(s).

The kicker was that she lived steps from the doc.

Her: I can meet you for a drink [that] evening. We can keep it local since it’s convenient for both of us.
Me: Perfect. Let’s do that. We’ll work out details today/tomorrow but it’s a date.
Her: Those are three magical words: “It’s a date.” So full of possibilities.

Location: earlier today, W 77th and Broadway, making plans
Mood: good
Music: a chance, it’s worth taking (Spotify)
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Not Looking for Mrs. Goodbar

Altogether Different

Me: [In all the years I’ve lived on the UWS] I’ve also never been to Emerald Inn if you wanna try an Irish pub. They have burgers and wings.
Her: Done.

ABFF and I haven’t been able to meet up with the kiddos because of scheduling issues but we managed to toss together an impromptu dinner with everyone the other day.

For something new, I suggested this Irish pub that I musta walked by a million times.

Just never went in so I brought it up. She was game.

While I was getting the kid ready to head out, though, it occurred to me that there was a reason I never went in.

Like I said, my memory’s been awful lately but as we headed down there, I remembered why I never went.

In 1977, the Emerald Inn was called W.M. Tweeds over at 250 West 72nd Street.

That year, a 28-year-old schoolteacher named Roseann Quinn – who lived across the street at 253 West 72nd Street – was out trying to pick up a fella for the night.

It was the 70s and she was into things like one-night stands, despite her being beaten and assaulted previously.

On the night of January 1st, 1973 that she met a fella named John Wayne Wilson (not kidding) whose wife was away so he went home with Quinn and, evidently, couldn’t perform.

When Roseann asked him to leave because of this, he evidently became incensed and grabbed a kitchen knife – her kitchen knife – and stabbed her a total of 18 times.

He then fled to Florida to his wife. Roseann’s body wasn’t found until two days later.

I always joke that I don’t know why all women aren’t lesbians because we men are, admittedly, a pretty awful lot.

Girl with Yellow Eyes: It just goes to show, attraction isn’t a choice.
Me: That’s my line!
Her: (rolling eyes) You don’t own that, Logan. But yeah, dating’s much worse for women. We’re all fighting over that one non-asshole in NY.
Me: (nodding) I’ll let you know if I meet him.

Suppose I’m only half joking.

Dunno why, but stories like these are morbidly fascinating to me because New York – compared to places like Berlin (826 years old) or Beijing (978 years old) – is barely an adolescent at 399 years old.

Yet New York City’s fulla these types of sordid and interesting stories.

You’d walk by the Emerald Inn or 253 W 72nd Street a million times and never think of the dark things that happened there.

And Quinn’s building is as boring and grey – literally and figuratively – as can be, yet it was once the scene of such horror.

Plus, this all happened just 45 years ago; imagine living in a place like Beijing that’s well over twice as old as NYC?

Conversely, I often wonder the same about the people I meet.

Maybe they were once something altogether different than they are now – perhaps the mild-mannered businessman next door was once a mob logistician.

Who knows?

Then again, I’m altogether different than I once was.

I mentioned to the ABFF that Quinn’s story was made into a bestselling novel called Looking for Mr. Goodbar, and later a film starring Diane Keaton and Richard Gere.

While the actual story about Roseann Quinn is tragic, the movie is tragic in slightly different ways, because in it, Keaton’s character had finally decided to change the trajectory of her life when it was cut short.

Things like that bother me for a multitude of reasons – the what ifs – but I suppose that’s an entry for another time.

 

In any case, the darkness of the place’s history notwithstanding, the kids had a really fun time there. Plus, they have some the best fish and chips I’ve had in the city.

Him: Can we have quarters for the jukebox?!
Me: Fiiine.

I suppose if you dig deep enough anywhere, you’re bound to uncover something horrifically evil.

Probably more often than you can find some good fish and chips, anywho.

Her: This place must be great during St. Patrick’s Day.
Me: You gotta figure…

Location: earlier tonight, being told that Bloomberg news wants to interview me for a legal issue.
Mood: flattered
Music: Tragedy, private, comfort of strangers (Spotify)
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Categories
personal

Thanksgiving 2022

Getting hustled

This year was kinda different but also kinda the same.

The NFL player invited me over for a party that he was throwing for his friends and family, and it’s so close to my pad that I couldn’t say no.

The issue was that – for better or worse – there were cops just everywhere because they live right on Central Park West and there were huge crowds of people trying to watch the balloons inflate.

Officer: Sorry, you can’t go this way.
Me: (holding up a bottle of whiskey I brought as a gift) I’m heading to a party at that building over there, though.
Him: (sighing) Go ahead, sir.

Honestly, I’m gonna start wearing a suit and bringing a bottle of whiskey everywhere now.

It was a really fun night because there were actually a lotta 30-somethings there that were friends of his kids.

Mainly, though, it was really well catered and I’m a sucker for good food.

Him: These sliders are amazing.
Me: You don’t have to tell me twice. (grab a few)
Him: (looking at me) Are you only eating one of the buns?
Me: (sheepishly) I’m cheating on my no-carb diet but only partially.
Him: (pause) I’m going to do that too.

Sweeeeeet.

He even had a bartender.

Me: Wait, you have the aged Captain Morgan? No one ever has that.
Him: Well, we do. How do you want it?
Me: On the rocks with a slice of orange, please.

This was pretty much me most of the night; I don’t think most people noticed me stuffing my fat face non-stop. That’s the hope, at least.

It was late when I left and I offered to walk the NFL Player’s daughter to catch a cab.

Her: Thanks for walking me.
Me: Heck, it’s the least I could do, considering how much I ate.

Then, the kid and headed over to my in-laws to get Thanksgiving with them.

My brother was in town but I just hate the thought of my in-laws not having Alison over the holidays.

I know how much it wears on me so I can only imagine how it affects them.

It was always her favourite holiday because she got to spend it with her family and I would spend it with mine.

We only spent 2014 and 2015 together but that just makes me sad so I’ll move on.

In any case, I feel that, if Alison can’t be with them, the kid will be as a second-best option.

I’m just there as the kid’s chauffer but it’s fine because the food’s always killer.

I swear the kid hustled me with Uno.

Him: Uno!
Me: You’re kidding me.
Him: Nope! See… (shows me)
Me: (grumble)

There was a lotta pie, alla which I ate but I didn’t take any pictures.

Went home that night while the kid stayed there.

Had some things I needed to take care of and we’ll leave it at that.

I still hate the holidays but it hurts a bit less these days.

Suppose it’s just time. Or the rum. Maybe both.

Probably both.

Location: home, after a fun night at the gym
Mood: hungry again. I’m always hungry
Music: Oh, what can I say? I’m survivin’ (Spotify)
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