If I ever go to court, I shall request this judge

Guilty: Judge Accused Of Using Penis Pump In Court

I realize i'm blogging like crazy today--but this cannot go unnoticed.

i really don't have much else to comment on this except: this gives me an idea....

corey goes to www.penispumps.com and orders 2. one for his apt and one for under his desk at work. no longer will he be bored at work. blog goes un-updated for months.

a movie you should see

This movie is important. Go see it.

I'm always skeptical about seeing documentaries that may have an alterior political motive (which, don't get me wrong, I support Al's political aspirations---i think it just weakens the film's point of view a little), but this movie makes you think. It makes you think in a broader, global, universal sense about our existance. I know--who really wants to think that way, right?

It's hard not to feel a little hypocritical though. I left the theater wanting to help save the world, but as I thought about my actions, I felt sad. Just 2 hours earlier, I took the advice of the concession worker and upgraded to the combo which gave me a giant ass tub of CO2- filled Diet Coke. The gas I ingested from that tub of soda which I ultimately exhaled in a series of unflattering, but satisfying burps, is enough to raise the CO2 levels some minute, but considerable percentage, which in the long run will increase the world's temperature, causing the ice shelves of Greenland and Antarctica to melt and raise the sea level 20 feet, wiping out about 60 million people. Job well done on my part.
But seriously, towards the end of the movie I felt hopeless. What's the point anyway? Then, like the fearless leader he would have been, Al said something along the lines of "People tend to go right from disbelief to despair. But there's an import step inbetween: Action." Something like that. That's so true--the movie wasn't even over yet and I had already given up. But there are simple actions everyone can take to help contribute
www.climatecrisis.net
check it out. save the world, bitch.

On another note: Do you think Al Gore is going to run in 2008? I mean, I've heard talks before, and after seeing this movie, I think he will. I wonder if he'd stand a chance by running on an environmental platform. Maybe he could get the nomination running on the environment....maaaaybe---not if Hillary has anything to do with it though. I kinda want to see a Gore/Clinton ticket. That'd be a strong-ass team.

Maybe I should turn this into a political blog. But then again, I know everyone would miss hearing about Bronwyn, my gym antics, and seeing musical theater 'mos lipsyncing to wicked.

Remember the Summer?

Once again, I have no real inspiration that warrants a blog entry, but I'm SUPER bored at work, and figured writing aimlessly until something coherent formed would be a practical way to fill my time. I wonder if I can consider myself a professional blogger since I'm getting paid $10/hr to write this. (that's right, I make $10 PER hour. As in every HOUR that I am here, I get paid 10 DOLLARS. bet ya didn't think you were reading the blog of a rich guy, huh!)

Oh! So let me fill you in on my gym experience thus far! So I've been going regularly, and I must say, I've adapted to fit into the gym-world quite easily. The first day there was a little awkward moment when I didn't know where the towels were, and the only person to ask was an old naked dude sitting on the bench near me. He kindly told me "they're out front" while subtly covering his junk. I didn't want to ask the old naked guy, but he was the only viable option.
Swimming is fantastic though. I really enjoy it--it has all the great qualities of running, sans the suckiness and stress on the joints. It's relaxing and if I imagine hard enough, I can transport myself back to those care-free summer days swimming under the steamy July sun.

Those were the days, my friends, those were the days: when the biggest problem you faced, had to do with being scared to go in the pool shirtless (I think only the former-fatties can relate to that). Think about what a sweet deal being a kid is--especially during the summer. Days upon days of having NOTHING to do but chill out in a pool, make up games, and play sports (I didn't really enjoy the latter option, but some of you out there may have, and I wanted to give an example that would include you too.) My sister, Katie, and I would spend most of our time playing with Nicky and Julie who lived 3 houses down. We would make up games such as, "Mansion", which was an elaborate version of "House". This is what you get when you spend most of your time playing with girls (all 3 of whom could have prolly kicked my ass) I don't really recall if we did much more than declare "let's play Mansion" and talk about who we were. The game would most always end abruptly with someone running home in tears--but magically, much like a Saved By The Bell episode, all our troubles would be forgotten by dinner time. It was those endlessly warm nights when your parents forgot about your bed-time, mixed with the long days inbetween that made summer what it was.
I don't think I really took full advantage of my childhood summers. Sure I did fun things--went boating, swimming, played mansion, etc. but for some reason, I feel like I could have enjoyed everything more, or not taken it for granted. You don't realize as a kid that 2 months of getting to sleep in late and not having any real responsibility whatsoever isn't the norm. There's no way to know that really though, is there?
As a kid, I always wanted to be grown up. I always knew I was going to move to NYC and be an actor and live my dream--but now that I'm there, I kinda wish I could go back to being a fat kid, swimming in his shirt, with a sandwich and chips waiting for me on the deck.
Can I just take 2 months off to do with what I please? Probably not--well at least not until I've saved up enough money to backpack through Europe. Until then, I will have to settle for the 1/2 hour I get in the pool, swimming laps with strangers--pretending they're Nicky, Julie and Katie beating me in a race. Convincing myself there will be a ham and cheese sandwich waiting for me when I get out.

The point of the story is 2-fold:
1st fold. I must learn to find those youthful simplicities now amidst all these "rules" and "responsibilities". 15 years from now I do not want to be writing a blog entry saying "I wish I hadn't taken my mid-twenties for granted "
2nd fold. I've been swimming 3 times already and I STILL don't have a swimmers body. wtf?!

Update on the shenanigans of 5C

So I come home tonight, climb the stairs, reach the fifth floor, but instead of finding a clear path to my apartment door, I see a pile of crap. Not feces, but someone's actual belongings: a big blue duffel bag stuffed with clothes, a backpack, Chinese food leftovers in a half open Styrofoam box and a gateway laptop--all hastily piled in our tiny little hallway. Clearly there has been more drama in 5C!!

I step over the shit and fumble with my keys, desperately trying to get in my apartment before having to deal with whoever's shit this is. I almost make it. I'm searching for the right key, when all of a sudden, my door slowly and kinda creepily opens for me--like magic. My roommate Courtney was standing at the door trying to get a glimpse of the action and saw me struggling. I step in my apartment as the dude (I'm assuming the one who doesn't know why he lives there) opens his door and comes out. If I wasn't so disoriented and confused, I could have taken a leisurely time to look around in hopes of seeing a disheveled apartment, or someone in tears. At this point, though, it was too late.

When I get in the door and take off my ipod, Courtney gives me the rundown.

According to Courtney:

-The dude comes home and there is some arguing.

-Bronwyn asks, "Are you DRUNK?"

-a slap is heard.

We are not certain who received the slap and who delivered it.

-The old lady staying with them screams a bit

(apparently Courtney has mingled with Bronwyn on occasion and learned that the dude's mom was staying with them for a while)
-More arguing.
-Door opens and he starts throwing his stuff in the hallway.

By the time I get the order of events and take another look out the peephole, all the stuff in the hallway is gone. The whirlwind had passed, and left in it's wake... A broken home.

Maybe I should go over and see if Bronwyn needs some comforting; a shoulder to cry on, or hug. Maybe I'll just let the mother-in-law take care of that and go to bed

NYSC

I joined a gym. New York Sports Club. I'm really excited because they have a pool, and I enjoy swimming, so for me, it's the perfect workout.

I've never belonged to a gym before. Never had the time, the will, or the desire. I was perfectly content wishing and praying really hard for a better body. However, I have reached the point where wishing and praying is taking up too much time with too few results.

Some of my friends are a little alarmed that I joined the gym. I've never been the gym "type." I was a sweat pants-wearing fat kid who went on to become vice president and co-founder of The Fat Club. Fat Club members just don't go to the gym; they just don't. Fat club members watch TV. However, I feel that in this day and age, Fat Club members can coincide with gym members. It's time to bridge that gap...and hope the bridge doesn't collapse when we walk over it. We live in exciting times.

I must say, though, along with the excitement of this new adventure, comes some hesitation and nervousness. The gym is like its own separate community with its own separate rules and lingo. The only rules and lingo I'm accustomed to have to do with the all-you-can-eat pasta special at The Olive Garden. I don't know the first thing about gym etiquette.

1. Do I shower naked? I don't know if you have your own stall or if you're out there flappin' in the communal breeze. I don't want to be the loser whose uncomfortable with his nakedness and wears a bathing suit. In turn, I do not want to be the weirdo who showers naked.

2. Do I shower before I go into the pool or just after?

3. If I do shower before I go into the pool, do I shower naked or in my bathing suit?

agh. There are so many variables.

It's pretty much the whole shower thing that gets me. That and the logistics of how to get where I need to be. I don't want to get lost on my way to the pool and end up standing over by the free weights looking confused and disoriented, while wearing my bathing suit, swim cap and goggles, dripping all over some dude's 50 lb dumbbells cuz I thought I had to take a pre-shower. That's just embarrassing.

In any case, I have a lane reservation for Friday afternoon, so we shall see what the outcome will be. I'm fairly certain it will be slightly akin to that of a Seinfeld episode.

Boredom + Randomness

So I've been under some pressure from a few of my devoted readers (I think I'm up to 4 now?) to update this thing.

The problem is that in lieu of inspiration, my creativity is overwhelmingly being drowned in boredom. But, as they say, the blog must go on. ( I really don't know who says that...But maybe "they" will start saying it now) So anyway, here is a collection of random thoughts:

--Looking for apartments is arduous. I've only looked at one and already I'm over it. There are so many crazies out there who just decide to get into the real estate game. This one apartment my roommate Courtney and I looked at today was totes redic. This crazy guy Mark who had bleached eyebrows and was wearing a "white house staff" t-shirt decided to turn this house in Astoria into 3 separate apartments. Basically he wanted to cram as many people in there as possible so he could get as much money as possible. After walking 25 minutes from the subway, we get to the house and are forced to wait in the hall as he talks for 5 minutes to another tenant. After he finished up with the call, he tries to explain to us the situation with the other tenant--but clearly it didn't make sense--he's crazy. He told us he was in the process of installing spiral staircases into the basement where there would be two bedrooms. two musty, windowless, cement bedrooms. The place had a "back yard" consisting of a dirt road, cement wheelchair ramp, and a rolled up chain link fence. and the price was $1900/month. No thanks, Mark, I think we'll pass.

--I'm gonna be a Soap Star. Well at least my back is. I did extra work on One Life To Live this week. It was actually really fun and quick and easy. The scene took place in Rodi's Bar and I got to fake drink fake beer and eat tostidos as quietly as possible. If you've worked on a soap before, you know how fucking fast they go. most films shoot 2-3 pages of script a day. Soaps shoot 60-80 pages a day. its crazy--they get up on set, block the scene with all the cameras, then shoot. The directors and stage managers are talking on top of each other and as an extra your job is to be there and not get in the way, which is why it was horribly awkward and hilarious when one of the extras got screamed at for blocking one of the actors. It was even funnier and a little more awkward because it was indirectly my fault she was in the way. whoops.

--Do you guys remember the phrase "I don't give!"? I used that ALL the time as kid. I think it stems from "I don't give a shit" and was shortened when swearing was still way too bad to do. For example: "You didn't do your homework?" "um, doi! I don't give! it was stupid" **"doi" is slang for "duh", which was also popular in my elementary years

--I think it's super awkward when you're sitting on the subway infront of one of the maps and someone comes over to read it. I lean forward a little bit, but try to make it look like I'm not inconvenienced at all; but really, I am inconvenienced. I'm sitting there trying not to move as strangers are leaning over me with their crotches and fanny packs in my face. I don't want to get up because then they'd feel bad they made me give up my seat. I don't want to be in their way. I'm caught in the middle. I pretend like everything is normal and fine, but really I'm thinking "ugh, are you done yet? hurry the fuck up." It's really not that big a deal--but those 20 seconds your personal bubble is popped and oozing out all over the subway, you can't think about anything else.

--one of my co-workers is crazy. Like mood swings-talks to himself loudly-sends wired, irrelevant emails-throws things on the ground-crazy. I get nervous when he talks to me.

2006 Tony's

My favorite part of the 2006 Tony's had to be the super-ridiculous Hal Prince tribute. This man has won like 20-something Tony's, so to add to his life-time achievement award, they decided to honor him with character tableaus of each of his shows followed by a performance from The Phantom of the Opera.

At first I couldn't tell if these"tableau-people" were real or not. I quickly learned they were very real. They were standing there in full costume, not moving, and as Brian Stokes Mitchell went down the line announcing each title, they came to life in a pose depicting the basic gist or theme of that show (the creative team behind this montage should be given a special Tony for retardation) They started out with West Side Story and had the Jets and Sharks pop into a standard, mean/gay-looking "fight" pose. The Fiddler on the Roof pose consisted of a Tevye and Golde standing next to each other looking like sad, desolate Jews, Golde holding a pot and stirring it's imaginary contents. The lady playing Evita in the Evita pose was out of control! You could tell she was SUPER psyched when she got that call from her agent and she was gonna give the "don't cry for me Argentina" pose every ounce of gusto she had.

After all the titles were announced and the Poses set, the guy currently playing the Phantom walked out to sing Music of the Night. Now, this dude sings that same exact song 8 times a week. He should be all set, right? Well, actually no. The weird cut of this song went a little something like this:

to the tune of Music of the Night...

"Slowly, Softly, Night unfurls is splendor"

awkward silence. awkward silence. panic. figuring out what the orchestra is playing. panic. awkward arm sweeping motion.

Loud and bold, as if nothing was wrong,
"HELPLESS TO RESIST THE NOTES I WRITE. For I compose the music of....The niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight"

End Song. 30 seconds altogether--15 of which were confusing and embarrassing

This just confirms that when I was a kid, and convinced that I could play the Phantom on Broadway--I was actually right. I used to laugh at my immature thoughts, but after that Phantom phoned in the performance comparable to that of a fat 8 year old's...I humbly stand corrected.

An open letter AND "Bangs are for ladies, Clay"

Dear cracked out lady standing outside my building last night at 2 am:

No. I do not want to buy a dresser drawer.

Respectfully yours,

Corey


on another note: I saw Kathy Griffin's stand up show last night! I fucking love that bitch!

Highlights of her show:

American Idol:
allegedly Clay Aiken is an aggressive top.

Seacrest got bitchy and hung up on her in a phone interview (I think there's a clip in the message boards on her website www.kathygriffin.net)

Oprah:
Having James Frey on her show was a bit overboard. Really, it was just to get the message out that "You. Do. Not. Fuck. With. Oprah."

Rufees:
"I never go on dates with out rufees. Sometimes I rufee myself. I wake up the next morning and think 'shit, did I Fuck myself last night? Yeah. I was good' "

Entertaining the Troops overseas:

Kuwait smells like a giant fart. "You can't get away from it. Open a window: fart. Turn on the air: fart. It's like Allah lifted up his leg and farted over the whole country."

So there ya have it. 2 posts in one. I'm efficient.

A (not so short) short story

The train ride from New York to Waterbury, CT is not glamorous. Metronorth is uncomfortable, smells of urine and I don't know who designed the inside--but they should be shot. Dark navy blue, maroon and puke brown? really?! That's the color scheme you come up with?

Going into New Haven isn't too bad. It's pretty much a straight-1 hour 45 min-shot. Sure it's crowded, sure, you don't necessarily know if the guy next to you farted, but whatevs. Put on your ipod, hold your breath and deal with it. Taking the train to Waterbury, however, is a bit more complicated. You have to transfer at Bridgeport and get on another, much smaller, smellier train, where the people are louder, bigger and trashier. I don't say that to be mean--its the truth. There is always at least one grizzly drunk dude wearing a stained tank top and carrying whats left of his six pack, roaming up and down the aisle. It's pleasant.

As if this miserable ride weren't normally enough--this past weekend I got an extra little treat. We were rolling along from Naugatuck, onward towards Waterbury, our final destination....FINALLY. The train comes to a stop and we sit and wait. Living in NYC, this doesn't phase me--I ride the subway every day, and this is nothing out of the norm.

Last Friday, as you may recall if you live in the northeast, was filled with torrential downpours. As we were sitting there, I looked out the window and noticed the muddy brown river the train tracks run next to was angry and woeful and had risen well above its normal level. Milk jugs and other accoutrements of trashiness were being violently tossed downstream. As we continued waiting, my concern was growing.

After about 10 minutes of waiting, the conductor comes on the speaker announcing that the river had washed out the tracks ahead and we couldn't get by.

WHAT? Are you kidding me? What is this, the fucking Oregon Trail? FORGE THAT SHIT!
ugh. So we had to go back to Naugatuck. Fine, whatever, just get me off this train.
We reverse direction and start retracing our path. As I was on the phone with my mom telling her she had to drive to pick me up in Naugatuck, the train stops again.

Fuck me. Yep, you guessed it, the track was now washed out on the other side as well. We were stuck. There I was, trapped inside the vomitous train car with all these other people...Who, at this point, were all talking on their nextel walkie talkies as their children were swinging from the luggage rack. Good times indeed.

While I was slouching in my seat, listening to my ipod, this tall, brutish man walks into the train compartment. He was about 6'3", with unwashed blonde hair down to his shoulders. He was a cross between fabio and dirt.
"Hey everyone, my name is Mike and I'm a fireman from the next town over."
He would be ruggedly attractive, if it weren't for his aura of scuz .
"I know, I don't look like a fireman with my long hair..."
The people on the train laugh as he smiles and pats a small boy on the head in an overly cliched 'everything is gonna be ok, I'm here to help, I'm a fireman' sort of way.
"So the conductors are checking things out right now, but stay calm, everything will be ok. I was just wondering if there were any doctors on board, or anyone with medical experience. I'm just trying to get an idea incase anyone is hurt, or needs anything"
No one responds.
"Ok, if anyone has any problems like asthma or diabetes, let me know" And then as he left everyone in the train gave him a collective "Thank you!" sounding all grateful and appreciative.

I did not say thank you. This guy had been waiting his whole life, watching Steven segal and Harrison ford movies, training for something like this. I saw right through his "I'm a fucking hero" act. Yeah, the thought is nice...I guess....But its a fucking train that's not moving. There was a road and civilization like 1/4 mile away. It wasn't even raining anymore. There was absolutely no danger in this situation what so ever and he's trouncing through this train like he's on a mission to stop some Iraqi insurgent from driving it into the white house.

A few more minutes go by and I see that people are starting to get off the train and walk. Great. Walking. My favorite thing to do. I file in with everyone else as they head to the door. Of course our friend is there, eagerly helping people with the 3 foot jump off the train. I made it a point to jump and land before he could touch me.

I started the journey towards Naugatuck and easily crossed the 3 inch trickling river which would have caused the train to derail. I put in my ipod and tried thinking of positive side of all this:
1. I've never walked along a train track before. I felt like a refugee--not that being a refugee is a positive thing, but in this non-threatening situation, I was able to get the cool image of being a refugee without any of the hardship, despair and pain.

that was really it. I couldn't think of any other positive aspect.

As I'm walking a long the track (which became a little challenge in itself.) I heard someone running up behind me. Before I could even turn around to see who it was, Mike, our hero, trots up next to me.

"hey, just make sure if it gets dark, you stay with the group."

I gave him a look that read "you don't impress me, douche bag. Keep running." and continued on my way. He kept running ahead of me, awkwardly trying not to trip or sprain his ankle, spreading this crucial message to the rest of the group.

The whole journey along the tracks didn't take more than 25 minutes. Not a big deal. While on the last stretch towards Naugatuck I came upon Mike one last time. He was standing in front of a bridge with his shirt off talking on his cell phone. You couldn't fucking wait to brag to your lame friends about how you "saved the day"? The job wasn't even finished yet and you're lounging out, shirtless, by the train tracks! If you're gonna play hero, fucking commit, man!

I finally got to Naugatuck where my mommy was waiting for me (I can say mommy and get away with it cuz I just proved my manliness by surviving this near-death train crash). And that was it. Nothing really too eventful--just a pain in the ass. I wonder if metro north will give Mike an honorary medal or something. He deserves one.

random thing that amused me tonight:

coming into my apartment tonight there is a sheet of paper ductaped to my neighbor's door which reads, in angry handwriting, "DON'T COME IN UNLESS YOU KNOW WHY YOU LIVE HERE!"

DRAMA IN 5C!!!

i only really know the woman who lives there, Bronwyn, but just barely. we've only been introduced once, and casually ran into each other twice. I've actually never seen her husband/boyfriend/dudewholivesthere. Apparently though, Bronwyn was an-gry! i mean she put up that note, didn't she?! at least, i'm assuming it was her. maybe it was him. that would be a fun turn of events.

Either way, twice now i've gotten up to peek out the peep hole hoping to catch a glimpse of some doorway confontation--see him violently rip the note down or just standing there in tears or something. anything really.

nothin' though. whoever was there left before i got to the door. ugh.

Strangers with candy!!

So i went to a screening of this last night and it's amazing! It opens on June 28th in NYC and you should go see it.





Almost as cool as the movie was the after-party. Open bar, buffet and gift bags. It doesn't get much better than that folks. I felt like Kathy Griffin. it was a total d-list party. The only drinks for free were Stoli and Bud light, the buffet consisted of rolls, cheese, pasta and little sandwiches, and the gift bag was just wierd. altoids, tylenol pm, time out ny, and a collection of post cards with hot, half-naked guys on them. i loved every second of it! Sans the awkward 15 minute conversation my friend jeff and i were forced into when these two douchy guys came to talk to us. His pick up line to jeff: "are you a film maker?" the rest of the conversation was painfully awkward. Jeff told him his name was Liam and I declared I was from New Orleans. He asked for Jeff's screen name to which he replied "my computer's broken." Ya know, its really hard being this attractive. Sometimes i just want privacy.