June 4th, 2003


I Am The Worst Schmoozer.

Monday chat @ Buffalo Club, during a mixer to welcome our new executive creative director (ECD):

ECD: Why don’t you have a drink in your hand?

ME: I don’t do alcohol when I’m fraternizing with coworkers.

ECD: Why the hell not?

ME: Alcohol tends to make me red. So I generally stick to heroin for work functions. Doesn’t affect my complexion and it makes me hate everybody a little less.

ECD: Heroin, eh? Do you smoke or shoot up?

ME: I like to mix it in a bowl with flour and eggs, make French pastries out of it.

ECD: French heroin pastries?

ME: Freedom heroin pastries.


Last Thursday - 2 Goose on the rocks.
Last Friday - 3 Goose on the rocks.
Last Saturday – 10+ shots of Crown.

There actually was a good reason for the liquor three-peat. No, make that two reasons. One friend (Trick) finally got his Chemistry Ph.D, and another friend (Lenny) finally took his CFA exam. And don’t ask me what CFA stands for, because I was about to ask you the same question.

If and when he passes, Lenny will probably have every license offered in this quadrant of the galaxy. Stockbroker license, real estate license, bartending license – you name it. And let’s not forget the license to kill. Lenny can perform a couple’s wedding, bartend their reception, help them buy their first home, set up their children’s college fund, and then help the wife murder her husband in a staged toaster oven accident.


Lunch today was fucking awful. Borderline nauseating. Maybe the cook whipped it out and pissed in the yellow curry, but that would’ve only improved the taste.

I don’t know why it’s so hard to find great Thai food outside of Bangkok. Over there, you could walk over to any restaurant, hole-in-the-wall or sidewalk vendor, and get a mouth orgasm for 10 cents. It’s simply perplexing to me. Maybe it’s the water. Maybe it’s the spices. Maybe it’s the man-ladies. Perplexing indeed.

I think you can grab any person in Thailand, fly her over here – by gunpoint if you have to - and open up a restaurant called ‘Kok. The food would be mouth-watering good, and you’d charge people a quarter. Granted this might not sound too profitable, but that’s where the cockfighting ring comes in. Betting money while watching your dinner fight to the death could very well be the future of theme restaurants. I guess that’s where Lenny’s new CFA (Cock Fighting Advisor) license would come in handy.

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