check it, yo!

hello loyal blog readers!

Just wanted to let you know that you will now have yet another blog-avenue to occupy your time/aide in your procrastination.

www.uniqueny.blogspot.com

This is a little project I'm doing with my friends Cody and Brian and it shall be loads of fun. It'll be full of videos, pictures and stories having to do with the beautifully odd New York City and the joys of living here. So set it to your favorites and get ready for awesomeness!

ALSO...

The short film I wrote with Joe Major, directed by Brian Belcinski is almost done! I'll be posting it here probably next week!!

PREPARE YE THE WAY OF THE BLOODSHITTERS.

I hope she wins

Thank you Kevin for this beaut!

Death Cards

There are certain things that are inherently awkward about working in an office: Singing Happy Birthday, Pooping, the painfully silent elevator ride with someone you work with, but don't talk to. When you are a temp in an office, these instances become even more awkward and annoying.

The other day I came across another example of an"oh-my-god,-why-is-this-happening" moment. I had to sign a sympathy card for a woman whose father was ill. Not dead, just sick.

Granted, everyone who works here is amazingly kind and delightful and I do feel sorry for Carol's ill father, but when the card was given to me, I freaked out a bit because I don't know what to say in a situation like this. I've known this woman for a week and a half, I didn't even know she had a father, not to mention a sick one. I'm the temp who works at the front desk. My office duties are to transfer calls, ship out fed ex packages and check myspace. No where in my job description does it mention writing awkward condolences to someone I don't know for her father who might die. What does one say?

I solicited the help and advice of my friend Chris Kelly over a gchat conference, and together we came up with some pretty good options.

Possible ways to sign Carol's sympathy card:

• Hope he doesn't die. -Corey
• Ive got a boner. - Corey
• have a crazy birthday! live it up and get crazy - after all, life's short! - corey
• Hey, at least you're making a shit load of money! -corey
• waa waa my daddy's dying and i expect a card because of it! boo hoo! jk =) -love, corey
• Call me! 917-837-0939. -corey
• i know times are tough, so if you need a dick to suck on, im always here. love, Corey
  
• My dearest Carol-- As you are walking down, what seems like, this long, lonley, dark path, know that there is a light. A bright, shimmering, hopeful light. Your father has touched the lives of many, and as he fades into death, be sure that he will not be forgotten. May angels sing upon you and your family during your time of need. Peace everlasting, Corey


• Spend all your time waiting
  for that second chance
  for a break that would make it okay
  there's always some reason
  to feel not good enough
  and it's hard at the end of the day
  I need some distraction
  oh beautiful release
  memories seep from my veins
  let me be empty
  oh and weightless then maybe
  I'll find some peace tonight
  
  In the arms of the angel
  fly away from here
  from this dark cold hotel room
  and the endlessness that you feel
  you are pulled from the wreckage
  of your silent reverie
  you're in the arms of the angel
  may you find some comfort here ~Corey

I ended up signing it "Best wishes for you and your family. ~Corey" which felt trite and cliched, but what are you gonna do. I had important things* to do and couldn't devote any more time to finding the perfect message to write.

*http://www.shygypsy.com/farm/p.cgi the most intricate, time consuming game to waste your time while at work!

Get Ready...

War On Roaches

We have gone to war, people. You are either with us or with the enemy, and my suggestion is that you are with us, unless of course, you want to die a slow, painful death in the teeth of a cat.

As many of you may know, our apartment has been a breeding ground for these merciless freedom haters (yes, cockroaches hate freedom. They also hate comfort, compassion, and all things that aren't gross) and the situation is grave.

But fear not, my fellow cockroach-loathers, we are winning this war. Last night was a prime example of the unity, teamwork, and courageous resilience needed to defeat these disgusting-doers. Last night's battle was a multi-pronged effort carried out with pin-point expertise and precision.

The War On Roaches starts with us; we are the first line of defense. Between the 4 roommates and one cat, we have 10 eyes. 10 eyes to search for anything that looks suspicious (or is a cockroach). And as the MTA tells us, if we see something, we must say something. Last night, I did just that. I saw the suspicious activity (cockroach crawling on the living room bed) and said something (a shrillish holler that brought me up off the bed onto my feet.) I tried to scoot the fucker onto the floor so I could crush it, once again, with my mighty journal. The effects of my mismanaged scooting, however, were unfavorable and the insurgent scurried away towards the safety of a cluttered bookcase. This prompted me to lunge after him with a clunky, inelegant force bringing me, boorishly, to my knees.

The awkwardly loud flailing and falling frightened the cat. After he realized what the commotion was about, though, he jumped into action as the first-response unit we've trained him to be, giving me a look that said, "You go away, I got this under control." Bear lurked around a bit and then retreated into his Mosque (One Saturday, Brian decided to take the cardboard boxes he got from a pillow shipment and constructed a 2-level sanctuary for the cat. He labeled it, 'Kitty Mosque'). I told Bear that this was no time to pray but was quickly informed that he was actually using his Mosque as a hide-out, a camouflaged post from which he could stalk his prey. Good thinking, Cat!

It wasn't long before we heard Bear pounce towards the bookcase and carry out an in depth ground operation which ended in him trotting away with an excessively successful bounce in his step. We quickly noticed he was parading the sinful creature in his mouth. He brought it into the living room and sat there looking at us in a way that said, "Before we go any further, I want it documented that this is my kill. Got it?" We agreed and followed him back towards the other side of the apartment next to the bathroom--The area which I now refer to as Astoria Ghraib.

1st Dispatch Courtney B. Lauria was keen on getting the necessary equipment and supplies ready to be used. With her help, I grabbed the can of Raid, some paper towels, and our atomic weapon of choice, "Ceil Dyer's Best Recipes Made from the Backs of Boxes, Bottles, Cans and Jars" which has about 3 more inches of roach-squashing thickness than my Mighty Journal.

I walked back to Astoria Ghraib, supplies in tow, to see Jon "The Finisher" Erdman coaxing the cat to release his kill. But Bear just sat there, torturing the crawling devil trying to obtain any information regarding the whereabouts of any additional roach cells, training centers, or future plans of attack. It is unclear if Bear got any information, but he waited until he felt the life expire and escape through the roach's dirty exoskeleton, at which time he dropped the carcass. Brian, wrangled the cat while Jon smashed the cookbook down with brute force, just to be certain the fiend was dead. It was. He then flushed the remains down the toilet.

Bear patrolled the grounds for the rest of the night, staying alert and focused on protecting the homeland. He sniffed the perimeter of the apartment, making sure the borders to the outside, roach-infested world were secure.

This is the kind of determination and resolve we must live each night of our lives while facing these monsters. We must be prepared to do whatever it takes to complete this roachicide.

After seeing the accomplishments of Gatsby "Bear" Handsome III, It is my honor and privilege to appoint him Secretary of Apartment Security.

Huzzah!

Yay Healthcare!

While on unemployment and making a meager $260/week, I earned TOO MUCH to qualify for Health Plus, the "affordable" not-for-profit healthcare plan.

huzzah!!

Learn To Laugh, People!!

Life is too short not to laugh at the absurdities that are thrown are way: tripping up the stairs, burning dinner, cancer. If we all learned to laugh with (or at) ourselves and our lives, we'll be much happier.

Tonight I was walking in the times square subway station (a place where aggression and frustration run rampant) and stopped to listen to this kick ass band consisting of 3 cellos and a bongo. I forget their name, or rather never learned it, but I did sign up to be on their email list; I'll let you know when they have a concert.

On my way up to sign the email list, this man crossed right in front of me. As he rushed past me, I stepped on the back of his flip flop (my feet tend to gravitate towards the backs of flip flops...). He kept walking, but when I looked down, his flip flop was still under my foot. I stole his flip flop!!!! I said sorry and laughed at the random, absurd moment we just shared, but I was the only one laughing. When I looked up and saw him walking towards me with only one flip flop, instead of greeting me with a smile and a "flip flops are craaaazy" type look, he grunted in exasperation, "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" Then awkwardly put his foot back into said flip flop and stomped away towards the train.

Did I inconvenience him that much? I don't think so. Maybe I did. I bet his night would have been a tad bit better though if he just laughed about it.

Speaking of laughing, this Onion video is hilarious; it might be my favorite so far. So laugh and enjoy your laughing.

And read the first joke on the bottom crawl, cuz it's mine, bitches!


NASCAR Coach Reveals Winning Strategy: 'Drive Fast'