Well, it's finally happened: we're paying for the fancy. After years at the same price, pints of beer at the Alibi are now five dollars ($5), up from $4.50. that's an 11% price increase! Is the bar 11% nicer? Well, I thought that when they replaced the taps it might remove that distinctive odor resembling feet that used to surround the bar area, but apparently that smell isn't going anywhere.

Still, $5 is not the end of the world, most bars charge that much these days. Plus it's easier to deal with, since the $4.50 would always leave you with awkward change, forcing you to save up the change to tip a dollar every other drink. Then again, the quarters were also handy for producing laundry money.

The Good News: whiskey is still $4 a glass. Aside from O'Connors (of the miniscule single-shot whiskies), this is the cheapest liquor in a 5 mile radius at least (if anybody knows where I can get Jameson's cheaper, lemme know). I wish more bars followed this pricing scheme, most places charge $6-8 for basically the same amount of booze. Life is so unfair.

Remember the Parents' Music Resource Center? Kids, it was a group of concerned busybodies back in the 80's (lead by Al Gore's wife, Tipper) who really kicked the 'save the children' crap into high gear. Thanks to them, impressionable children no longer had to ask around for explicit lyrics and offensive content, because their "Parental Warning" label would direct them right to the damaging material they craved. Was there any actual restriction related to these warnings? Did any record store ever refuse to sell a kid his own copy of "O.P.P."?

Anyway, what I didn't know about the PMRC is they released a list of the songs they found most objectionable. They called it "The Filthy Fifteen:"

	Artist	Song title	Lyrical content
1	Prince	"Darling Nikki"	Sex/Masturbation
2	Sheena Easton	"Sugar Walls"	Sex
3	Judas Priest	"Eat Me Alive"	Sex
4	Vanity	"Strap on Robbie Baby"	Sex
5	Motley Crue	"Bastard"	Violence
6	AC/DC	"Let Me Put My Love into You"	Sex
7	Twisted Sister	"We're Not Gonna Take It"	Violence
8	Madonna	"Dress You Up"	Sex
9	W.A.S.P.	"Animal (Fuck Like A Beast)"	Sex/Language
10	Def Leppard	"High 'N' Dry (Saturday Night)"	Drug and Alcohol Use
11	Mercyful Fate	"Into the Coven"	Occult
12	Black Sabbath	"Trashed"	Drug and Alcohol Use
13	Mary Jane Girls	"In My House"	Sex
14	Venom	"Possessed"	Occult
15	Cyndi Lauper	"She Bop"	Sex/Masturbation

I'm beginning to think Tipper was on the RIAA's payroll. They made a case that Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It" was offensive because of its 'violent' content?? The closest thing to a violent image is the line "We'll fight/You'll see!" The song actually contains the line, "You gall is never-ending." Is it too late for Morrissey to cover it?

How many records did Dee Snyder sell from getting on this list? And what's the result? Did anybody live a better life because he was spared from hearing "Darling Nikki"? (Eh, possibly. "Let's Pretend We're Married" is a better song, anyway.) They was unable to stop the torrent of filth from saturating the country, and that's why George Bush is President and Howard Stern is on satellite radio. So ultimately I guess all the PMRC achieved is coming up with one sweet songlist for a totally rad mix-tape!

Oh, and they brought to our attention a little-known novelty band known as The Mentors. Thanks, Tip!

I discovered a bunch of old photos, here's what Decatur looked liked when we brought her home from the shelter:



Yikes! It's like her eyeballs and ears were full-grown, but her skull was still kitten-sized. Here you can also see her wall-eye. She had a respiratory infection and kept sneezing out green snot on us every few minutes. What a doll.



We both look a lot different these days.

Okay, I admit it: I've never snorted coke off a toilet tank in a seedy bar. Nor have I entered a cramped men's room for a clandestine romp with a lady. So you'll forgive my ignorance, but somebody tell me, what the hell is the allure of either of these activities?

I'm a live-and-let-live kinda guy. Other people's behaviors are no big whoop to me. But when I really have to pee and there's 20 other people in front of me in line to the bathroom, my generosity puckers to the size of a urethra. When I see two people exiting a bathroom meant for single usage, I rarely believe that they're saving time by peeing in the sink.

I don't know how often sex is going on in these small spaces, but come on, people, can't you wait? Even if you have a roommate and paper-thin walls, you'll probably do a better job at home. I know, I know, it's a real thrill to diddle some drunk teenybopper over a backed-up toilet, and maybe somehow this thrill extends to seeing how many people you can back up outside the door.

The vast majority of toilet couplings is probably the drug-doin' variety. I honestly don' t know how long it takes to snort of couple of lines apiece, but whatever it is, it's taking too long! I have nothing against cocaine, empirically. I wouldn't do it myself as I'm sure it would turn me into the supreme asshole I barely contain while sober. But I cannot abide its presence when it stands in between me and my urgency.

What is the deal with this practice? There's this fetishistic connection between coke and bathrooms. Like people saw some movie from the 80's and decided that any time they're out on the town, they simply must do the snorting away from prying eyes. Gimme a break, folks. Let's get a little creative, shall we?

If you just can't make it through the end of the band's set without a bump, here's an idea: dry out an old bottle of nasal spray decongestant and fill it up with yer bing. Then, at the appropriate time, whip it out and suck it up like that guy who momentarily makes Bill Murray jealous in Ghostbusters. If your friend wants some too, pass it over. Wow! Instead of taking 10 minutes and irritating a multitude of people (before you even have the chance to do it yourself with your charming coked-up personality), it now takes 10 seconds!

Once, at Royal Oak Bar, I don't know why I was there, some dude sidled up to our booth and slid in unannounced. He put his finger to his lips and mouthed "Shhhh." He then produced a small amount of cocaine, which he honked up swiftly. And then he was off. Think of how many people he spared through his industrious action. Let's all take a page from this hero's book.

Oh, an update on the house buying front: our loan has been approved. Looks like Citibank will have the pleasure of our business for th enext 30 years. We just have to nail down the closing date. And book the movers. And pack up everything. And go through 5 years of accumulation in the basement. And figure out how to get three (or four) cats to get along with two cockatiels. I mean, I don't doubt the cats will like the birds ... for dinner!

I was slowly wandering back to work when I was halted by what appeared to be every single mounted cop in town. They were all parading down Church Street in front of the WTC site. I have no idea why, but it was amusing. More photos.

UPDATE: So the parade was to attend some memorial at the WTC site, but these horses were here from all over to participate in a police equestrian competition in Jersey over the weekend. And look, my handiwork is mentioned on Gothamist. I am really, really cool.

Yesterday, I had an early conference call which I did from home, and then I just kept working from home. I'd been ill all week, and I even considered contacting my boss to let her know I was too sick to come in, but it all seemed like a lotta trouble, so I just didn't say anything.

They totally busted my ass. After months of surreptitious telecommuting here and there, I get called on it on a day when I am legitimately sick. Oh, the irony. I suppose this is one of those experiences in which I 'learn my lesson.' See, my boss' boss was in town from London, and apparently she kept cruising by my desk wondering where I was all day.

If anything teaches me my lesson on this one, it's the aftermath. Last night 2 Many DJs performed at Studio B. I'm not real familiar with this group's work, but my girlfriend is a huge fan. These DJ brothers from Belgium apparently innovated the remix phenomenon that is now called 'the mash-up.' For some reason they don't really get credit for this, but at least it means they don't have to perform at Amsterjam. Anyway 2 Many DJs is better known as Soulwax, which is their live band. They were both playing last night, with some kid band called The Klaxons. The result was Hipster Overload. I think a lot of kids were there for The Klaxons, who went on first. They were fine, meh. Then there was a DJ set by the locals. This was a lot of fun and dancing around like a fool under the copious smoke machines momentarily made me forget my illness.

Soulwax went on next and they were really good. They kind of approximate dance music played with 'real' instruments. This is not a bad idea, it gives those who are disinclined to dance something to look at while the music is going on. We made it through their set and suddenly it was 1:30. Any other night I would have been fine with this. But with disease creeping back up on me and the sobering fact that I absolutely had to go to the office the next day, I had to go home. I feel bad I missed 2 Many DJs' set, but at the rate they were going it would be another hour before they started.

After a lot of dumb navigation on my part, we finally made it to a G station. Two trains went by in the opposite direction, but we got nothing Clinton Hill-bound. At some point the bell went off announcing an impending train, we waited another several minutes but nothing showed. So we said screw it and went out to find a car service. The second we walked up the steps we heard the train coming in. I have no idea why the announcement bell was so off, but the result is that I won't singing the praises of the G train for quite some time.

The car finally got us home around 3. I was getting really paranoid about my ability to make it to work the next day, so I took a shower right then, and actually booted up the work laptop and did some work in advance. This actually worked out really well, I slept in until 8:15 and made it in like a good drone. But I have this big sleep crease across my cheek from the pillow, I look like Tom Berenger in Platoon. But nobody's messing with me today at least.

Dear god, this is pathetic, but I'm sick of my malfunctioning, impossible-to-maintain blog. I started the old blog script with the notion that as my skills increased, I would get fancier and fancier, taking pride in the knowledge that I did it all myself (the script was a hacked guestbook, I implemented everything and manually archived everything). But what I didn't count on was me getting stupider over the years. Now, I not only don't have time (read: interest) to debug the blog, I have forgotten most of what I taught myself about Perl and CGI since then. Worse, I dont' seem to have the patience to learn Moveable Type. So I'm back to using Blogger until I can come up with something better. Whoop Dee Doo!

Word has been handed down: my office moves on October 5th. Wait, that's a Thursday. Why the hell are we moving on a Thursday? That's what Mondays are for.

It's the end of an era, almost as much as moving from Clinton Hill will be (later that same month). Except for a couple of weeks, my entire New York Professional Career has existed within a few blocks of the World Trade Center. Except of course for all the years I worked from home.

My commute of 3.4 miles will stretch to 5 miles (according to Google Maps), but the subway is a lot closer to the office. Plus I'll only be on the 4th floor instead of the 22nd. But currently my desk is in some random spot among people in the Operations department, I assume a the new place I'll be in with people from my own department. This means I'll have to get to work on time for the first time in my Professional Career. This for me reduces all the other potential benefits, I don't want my coworkers to know when I get in!

I contracted some kind of virus over the weekend. My first thought: contaminated spinach! But I don't think I had any; in fact, I sort of stopped buying the bagged spinach because I always forget to use it before it goes bad. This is the gamble of buying produce. And what an exciting life it is.

Despite the onset of illness, I still went over to Janice's new apartment for dinner, which was lovely. Against better judgment we then proceeded to Boat for Tom's birthday. Tom announced his comic work will be getting publishing in an anthology by Fantagraphics. Not bad, they were always my favorite alt-comics publisher (close second: Drawn & Quarterly). By this time I was either guzzling whiskey or honking into tissues which made me such a charming guest. I woke up Sunday feelin' fine ... for a little while.

What's up with this delayed-reaction thing with hangovers? I felt okay when I got up at noon, but by 2PM I was ready to hit myself in the head with a steam iron just to knock myself out. Maybe it was the last of the alcohol leaving my system that left me vulnerable to malaise. I took a bunch of allergy medicine, which is notable mostly for its ability to put me into a coma-like stupor. I slept the rest of the day away, missing the Atlantic Antic, which I had been pitching to everybody I talked to last night. I wanted to see The Fleshtones, both because they are always fun, and also because I'm afraid they'll die before I get to see them again.

Speaking of rock, Friday night at Michelene's was absolutely ridiculous. Something about that dank cellar resembles Your Parents' Basement When You Were in High School, and thus seems to bring out the juvenile goofball in its attendees. Kevin Shea (People) decided his subject for between-song banter would be "Penis," and he pretty much exhausted this topic by the end of their set. Kevin has taken to wearing berets and several pairs of sunglasses while playing, which tend to get flung into the air by his convulsive drumming. The Solution: tape the headgear down. This led to a veritable line of people going up and taping various stuff to Kevin while he continued to play. What a pro. for some reason Kevin broke into "Sunday Bloody Sunday" which prompted normally mild-mannered ToddP to grab the mic and belt out the tune with the help of Christopher from Parts and Labor and some other audience members.

When Stay Fucked took the stage (uh, corner), instead of standing still and watching the band, the crowd got into it like they were the Circle Jerks circa 1983. At one point a bunch of guys came up and lifted Hank's drum kit off the ground while he continued to play, which was nice for a spontaneous prank on the band. Even ToddP, normally restrained, was animated all evening. In between bands he put the Jackson 5 on the PA and tried to encourage patrons to join the "killer dance party in the basement!" SF refused a second encore at which time, it was announced that a local spot was having a special evening including all-you-can-drink booze and all-nude strippers from Jersey, all for $15 a head. I passed on this anthropological curiosity but I'd still like to hear what that was like.

At least I managed to have my fun before this cold totally kicked me in the butt. I even considered staying home today, but in the end it's far less trouble to go into the office sick than it would be if I had skipped it today. Of course, the real reason one stays home when they are sick it to prevent one's coworkers from getting sick. But I totally want to get these people sick.

For the first time in five years, I'm back in the office for September 11th. Actually, now that I think of it, I've NEVER been in the downtown office on September 11th of any year. The last few years I've been working from home, before that I was in Weehawken, and on the first 9/11, I was doing this. So I never actually sat in the World Financial Center on this day. Which means I didn't realize there would be so many tourists getting in my way on my way to the office. There are always tourists wandering around down here, but today of course was especially bad. Oh well, I guess we should all have extra leeway to be spacey today.

Things around here sure are a lot different than they were in 2001. Clinton Hill has gone from a sketchy neighborhood to the place where no home shall sell for less than a million dollars (except this one). I live with none of the people I did back then, though for the time being I'm still in the same house. I'm poised to purchase a house in a part of the boro I probably didn't even know existed back then. I'm still working for the same company, though my status has changed a lot (though all that happened in the last 6 months). Smoking has been banned. ToddP has become a household name (well, in my household anyway). And Shellac has played twice. Last time they were here was October of 2002, they finally returned to Brooklyn last week.

And somehow, I'm still using the hacked guestbook script as a blog, with a commenting script that's so old that the guy who wrote it doesn't even have it on his site anymore. I haven't quite figured out the problem yet, I sure hope I don't lose all the comments from all these years. I mean, I hope I can get this to work without manually replacing all the comments on every post.