Today’s soundtrack: turn on my VCR, same one I had for years
Today at 1:02am: Mesmerized by World’s Wildest Police Chases


Friday night Handsome Dan went to an Elite Models party and asked me to go. I chose to pass, figuring the models would be too tall to talk to. Placing me at breast-level with a woman is counterintuitively emasculating. Not to mention, a recent perusal of the men’s magazines section at B&N has shown me that what America finds attractive in a woman and what I find attractive in a woman are two totally different things. Hey stop getting fake tits.

Saturday night on Delancey Street. “You lads don’t do drugs, do you?” asks the Brit, hopefully.

Lam and I are heading over to Essex Lounge when this soccer-player-looking guy stops us, initially asking for directions to Good World. Tourists always ask me for directions, now they’re asking me for drugs. If only I carried maps and weed around with me, I could make some extra bread.

Me, Lam, and Lam’s 22.75” head get to Essex (the bar, not the British county) on the early side and shit-shoot over Gee-and-Tees.

After a few minutes The Two Michelles stroll in. They’re easy to introduce because they have the same name. One is Chinese but looks Korean, the other is Korean but looks Chinese. I draw undue delight from the fact that they both have the same name; I enjoy when things come in twos. By the by, Michelle A.’s head is 22” in circumference.

Presently Handsome Dan appears (not sure how big his head is), then Moonberry, Serina and a girl named Jennifer. Out of the four of them it is perhaps easiest for me to talk to Moonberry, because I already know her cranial dimensions and can focus on the conversation without wondering. Then again Dan and I share a gender, and that’s always good fodder too.

Tonight (Sunday) they finally ended the goddam Feast of San Gennaro. If you’re not from around here that’s this Italian festival they put on once a year in Little Italy. There’s nothing overwhelmingly Italian about it; it’s basically a bunch of drunken ex-cons staring at your girlfriend’s tits.

They set up booths filled with “games of chance,” lame stuffed-animals you can win and overpriced calzones. The worst part is every tourist, ya-ya, knucklehead and cock-knocking thug from everywhere converge on this goddamn festival and they turn the neighborhood upside-down.

Last year it was canceled due to 9/11 but the year before, there were drunk people passed out on my doorstep--at only eight o’fucking clock. The year before there was a bunch of kids from New Jersey punching each other. Sometimes I wish I could find fun in the things society finds fun. But I can’t and that’s why if I met you, I would secretly want to know the circumference of your head.