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I have been very lax

I have been very lax at taking pictures and as a result the photos are starting to lag behind the actual events. When I failed to put a picture up yesterday I explained the reason to my brother Dan, citing late emails and faulty servers. He chastised me and reminded me that ultimately this site is my responsibility. Made for Sean by Sean. I can only try.
The photo today from Saturday and shows a striped bass head placed atop a cow bone, the perfect way to end a romantic French dinner.

Last night, to celebrate my Irish heritage, I drank many Guinni at Smithfield with a good group of kids. The Guinness corporation has
lobbied to make March 17th a national holiday in the United States, but I think if they truly cared about me, they would go for the 18th.

I have been very lax at taking pictures and as a result the photos are starting to lag behind the actual events. When I failed to put a picture up yesterday I explained the reason to my brother Dan, citing late emails and faulty servers. He chastised me and reminded me that ultimately this site is my responsibility. Made for Sean by Sean. I can only try.

The photo today from Saturday and shows a striped bass head placed atop a cow bone, the perfect way to end a romantic French dinner.

Last night, to celebrate my Irish heritage, I drank many Guinni at Smithfield with a good group of kids. The Guinness corporation has
lobbied to make March 17th a national holiday in the United States, but I think if they truly cared about me, they would go for the 18th.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day. I

Happy St. Patrick’s Day.
I have a lot of stuff to report and show from this weekend, but I’m waiting to get some pictures. While we wait, check out the Site of the Day. I think it is very funny.

I apologize, but I’m still waiting for some pics. In the meantime, let me tell you about a dream I had this morning. In the dream, I was a general practitioner physician on the first day of the job, but I knew nothing more about being a doctor than I do in real life. Instead of telling the nurses and receptionists that I was a fraud, I chose to try and play it off. I spoke with one patient, a forty-something Hispanic woman, and hoped she had the flu so I could give her the same advice I received from a doctor in reality a few weeks ago. No luck. She was there to talk about having her varicose veins removed. I told her it couldn’t be done and then wrote the same on her chart. I took her folder out of the room to the receptionist station to be filed, but then I realized if anyone saw what I had written, they would know I was bogus. I asked one of the ladies working with me to put the file on my desk and I figured I could look up the correct way to mark a medical record on the Internet later. By this time, many people had gathered in the waiting room, all of them grouchy and sick.

I realize now that much of the dream was just a replay of my trip to the doctors a few weeks ago. While walking around the office, I had two epiphanies; one that as a young doctor, I probably could get laid a lot and two, I could write my own prescriptions. The dream ended when my family came to visit–to congratulate me on my first day–and they began to ask me medical questions to which I could only respond something about rest, fluids, and possibly antibiotics.

Less dreams. More photos.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day.

I have a lot of stuff to report and show from this weekend, but I’m waiting to get some pictures. While we wait, check out the Site of the Day. I think it is very funny.

I apologize, but I’m still waiting for some pics. In the meantime, let me tell you about a dream I had this morning. In the dream, I was a general practitioner physician on the first day of the job, but I knew nothing more about being a doctor than I do in real life. Instead of telling the nurses and receptionists that I was a fraud, I chose to try and play it off. I spoke with one patient, a forty-something Hispanic woman, and hoped she had the flu so I could give her the same advice I received from a doctor in reality a few weeks ago. No luck. She was there to talk about having her varicose veins removed. I told her it couldn’t be done and then wrote the same on her chart. I took her folder out of the room to the receptionist station to be filed, but then I realized if anyone saw what I had written, they would know I was bogus. I asked one of the ladies working with me to put the file on my desk and I figured I could look up the correct way to mark a medical record on the Internet later. By this time, many people had gathered in the waiting room, all of them grouchy and sick.

I realize now that much of the dream was just a replay of my trip to the doctors a few weeks ago. While walking around the office, I had two epiphanies; one that as a young doctor, I probably could get laid a lot and two, I could write my own prescriptions. The dream ended when my family came to visit–to congratulate me on my first day–and they began to ask me medical questions to which I could only respond something about rest, fluids, and possibly antibiotics.

Less dreams. More photos.

There are at least five

There are at least five things wrong with this photo. Can you spot them? I’ll post the answers at lunch time. The great American artist Dennis Hopper, who painted Night Shift, became famous for his ability to capture light in his pieces. Today’s pic is a tribute to him. There
are three things wrong in the previous two sentences. Can you spot them? I’ll post the answers at lunch time.



The love of Fridays is very trite and cliche, but g**damn I’m glad I made it to this one. If this were a six day week, tomorrow would be Bring-Your-Uzi-to-Work Day.

There are at least five things wrong with this photo. Can you spot them? I’ll post the answers at lunch time. The great American artist Dennis
Hopper, who painted Night Shift, became famous for his ability to capture light in his pieces. Today’s pic is a tribute to him. There
are three things wrong in the previous two sentences. Can you spot them? I’ll post the answers at lunch time.



The love of Fridays is very trite and cliche, but g**damn I’m glad I made it to this one. If this were a six day week, tomorrow would be Bring-Your-Uzi-to-Work Day.

It’s amazing how just the

It’s amazing how just the smallest things can totally change how you feel about something. A few months after I moved into my apartment I was feeling a great deal of renter’s remorse. A couple of changes and improvements helped, but didn’t remove thoughts of moving from my mind.
On Sunday, I rearranged the furniture and the new set-up makes the place feel twice as big. Now, three guys can sit around comfortably playing video games, drinking Buds, smoking cigarettes, and just generally pretending they are still in college. Ben, Erik, and I proved this last night.

Here’s the trick to making a small living room seem larger. Put the TV in the corner on an angle and the sitting pieces in the other corner. That way the distance from where you sit and the screen are on the diagonal which is the longest distance in the room.

It’s amazing how just the smallest things can totally change how you feel about something. A few months after I moved into my apartment I was feeling a great deal of renter’s remorse. A couple of changes and improvements helped, but didn’t remove thoughts of moving from my mind.

On Sunday, I rearranged the furniture and the new set-up makes the place feel twice as big. Now, three guys can sit around comfortably playing video games, drinking Buds, smoking cigarettes, and just generally pretending they are still in college. Ben, Erik, and I proved this last night.

Here’s the trick to making a small living room seem larger. Put the TV in the corner on an angle and the sitting pieces in the other corner. That way the distance from where you sit and the screen are on the diagonal which is the longest distance in the room.

Yesterday was an amazing day

Yesterday was an amazing day and I got some really good photos…but I left my camera at home. This is an artist’s interpretation of what the POTD will look like when I get home and get my camera. Editor’s note: The real picture has been put in place. I’m staring in dief at a massive empty pot that was once filled with ham potpie, but had since been emptied by four slightly drunk women. Bibi stands beside me, smiling at having gotten the last dumpling. I’ll put up the real pictures from Book Club ASAP and the recipe for ham potpie later today. Thanks to Lainey for a real crowd pleaser.

The book we had read was “Straight Man” by Richard Russo, which takes place in a fictitious version of my hometown Altoona, so I wanted to cook something from that region. Ham potpie is a traditional Pennsylvanian German dish and is nothing like a standard meat pie. It’s a stew with small squares of pie dough added to cook into dumplings. The shit is good. This recipe is from my mom and grandma.

Ham Potpie
2 cups flour
2 tablespoons Crisco
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 cup ice water
1 or 2 ham hocks (Left over ham bones can also work)
14 cups water
2-3 lbs. ham, cubed
1 lb. potatoes (3 or 4), cubed
2 carrots, chopped
1 small white onion, minced
2 celery stalks, finely chopped


In a large stock pot, add ham hocks and water. Boil for 45 minutes to an hour. While that is boiling, make the pie dough.

In a mixing bowl, combine salt, baking powder and flour. Using a fork or a pastry mixer, blend in the Crisco. When evenly mixed, slowly add ice water and mix until dough reaches the correct consistency. Add more flour if necessary. Work dough as little as possible. Roll on to a floured surface until it is about 1/4 inch thick. Cut into 2 inch squares and store in the fridge.

Remove the ham hocks or ham bone from the pot. Strain if it’s nasty. Add carrots, celery, onions, potatoes, and ham cubes.
Bring to a rolling boil. Add pie dough squares, scattering them around individually so they do not stick to one another.

Boil for 20-30 minutes, until a sliced pie dough square is cooked though and the vegetables are tender. Salt and pepper to taste.

Yesterday was an amazing day and I got some really good photos…but I left my camera at home. This is an
artist’s interpretation of what the POTD will look like when I get home and get my camera. Editor’s note: The real picture has been put in place. I’m staring in dief at a massive empty pot that was once filled with ham potpie, but had since been emptied by four slightly drunk women. Bibi stands beside me, smiling at having gotten the last dumpling. I’ll put up the real pictures from Book Club ASAP and the recipe for ham potpie later today. Thanks to Lainey for a real crowd pleaser.

The book we had read was “Straight Man” by Richard Russo, which takes place in a fictitious version of my hometown Altoona, so I wanted to cook something from that region. Ham potpie is a traditional Pennsylvanian German dish and is nothing like a standard meat pie. It’s a stew with small squares of pie dough added to cook into dumplings. The shit is good. This recipe is from my mom and grandma.

Ham Potpie
2 cups flour
2 tablespoons Crisco
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 cup ice water
1 or 2 ham hocks (Left over ham bones can also work)
14 cups water
2-3 lbs. ham, cubed
1 lb. potatoes (3 or 4), cubed
2 carrots, chopped
1 small white onion, minced
2 celery stalks, finely chopped


In a large stock pot, add ham hocks and water. Boil for 45 minutes to an hour. While that is boiling, make the pie dough.

In a mixing bowl, combine salt, baking powder and flour. Using a fork or a pastry mixer, blend in the Crisco. When evenly mixed, slowly add ice water and mix until dough reaches the correct consistency. Add more flour if necessary. Work dough as little as possible. Roll on to a floured surface until it is about 1/4 inch thick. Cut into 2 inch squares and store in the fridge.

Remove the ham hocks or ham bone from the pot. Strain if it’s nasty. Add carrots, celery, onions, potatoes, and ham cubes.
Bring to a rolling boil. Add pie dough squares, scattering them around individually so they do not stick to one another.

Boil for 20-30 minutes, until a sliced pie dough square is cooked though and the vegetables are tender. Salt and pepper to taste.


Mike Ayers and I visited

Mike Ayers and I visited the Museum of Sex on Sunday; he did it for a sociology class, I did it to have something to write about on the site other than bars or TV. I try to add a little New York flavor once in awhile. I had intended to relay an entire description and review, but after touring the place I’m left with a single word summation–sucked.
The topic of sex is not something that is underrepresented in the media and this museum just retold bits of history I have seen better described elsewhere. However, the Gershwin Hotel next door is worth a walk-by to see the strange teardrop/devil horn canopies over the windows and an original Andy Warhol Cambell’s Soup print in the lobby.

Mike Ayers and I visited the Museum of Sex on Sunday; he did it for a sociology class, I did it to have something to write about on the site other than bars or TV. I try to add a little New York flavor once in awhile. I had intended to relay an entire description and review, but after touring the place I’m left with a single word summation–sucked.

The topic of sex is not something that is underrepresented in the media and this museum just retold bits of history I have seen better described elsewhere. However, the Gershwin Hotel next door is worth a walk-by to see the strange teardrop/devil horn canopies over the windows and an original Andy Warhol Cambell’s Soup print in the lobby.

WEEKEND RECAP: Friday, we celebrated

WEEKEND RECAP: Friday, we celebrated Diane’s acceptance to the University of Texas’ PHD program with a big dinner at Casimir. I had steak, which I realize is something I do not have often enough. Saturday, I did some housecleaning on the site and then wandered around the East Village for a few hours enjoying the sun. The photos above are from that evening when the kids did that which we do at CBGB, Bar 81, and Lucy’s. Sunday I did some real house cleaning, went to the Museum of Sex (more on that tomorrow), rearranged furniture–which is a feat in a 4 * 8 apartment. I brought out my A game to cook lemon chicken for Trish and Six Feet Under.
Today’s entry seems unusually mundane. Here’s a thought. Sometimes I like to pretend that when my clock radio goes off in the morning, little people inside begin to play music. I imagine that when I hit the ‘snooze’ button that it kills them and this makes me happy. I’m not a morning person.

WEEKEND RECAP: Friday, we celebrated Diane’s acceptance to the University of Texas’ PHD program with a big dinner at Casimir. I had steak, which I realize is something I do not have often enough. Saturday, I did some housecleaning on the site and then wandered around the East Village for a few hours enjoying the sun. The photos above are from that evening when the kids did that which we do at CBGB, Bar 81, and Lucy’s. Sunday I did some real house cleaning, went to the Museum of Sex (more on that tomorrow), rearranged furniture–which is a feat in a 4 * 8 apartment. I brought out my A game to cook lemon chicken for Trish and Six Feet Under.

Today’s entry seems unusually mundane. Here’s a thought. Sometimes I like to pretend that when my clock radio goes off in the morning, little people inside begin to play music. I imagine that when I hit the ‘snooze’ button that it kills them and this makes me happy. I’m not a morning person.

I stayed in last night

I stayed in last night for Must-See-TV and instead got to watch the president reiterate that he is an ass. I turned off the TV and worked very productively to clean up the site and archive the old pages, but the revamp will not be ready until Monday. I photographed today’s pic while at karaoke on Tuesday. From left: Mary and Brian. Grant. Mary. Tyler. Sean and Josh. …
When the weather is frigid, I walk most of my trip to work on the north side of Houston Street which gets a touch of warmth being bathed in the cold, low, winter sun.

As I went to leave the apartment this morning, I was halted by a search for my second glove. Unable to find it, I departed in an even worse mood than the terrible one I woke up with. Turning the corner onto the staircase I found the missing glove, placed specifically for me on the landing window sill. To the unknown person who made my day, thanks.

I stayed in last night for Must-See-TV and instead got to watch the president reiterate that he is an ass. I turned off the TV and worked very productively to clean up the site and archive the old pages, but the revamp will not be ready until Monday. I photographed today’s pic while at karaoke on Tuesday. From left: Mary and Brian. Grant. Mary. Tyler. Sean and Josh.

When the weather is frigid, I walk most of my trip to work on the north side of Houston Street which gets a touch of warmth being bathed in the cold, low, winter sun.

As I went to leave the apartment this morning, I was halted by a search for my second glove. Unable to find it, I departed in an even worse mood than the terrible one I woke up with. Turning the corner onto the staircase I found the missing glove, placed specifically for me on the landing window sill. To the unknown person who made my day, thanks.

Boopy Trap, the all girl

Boopy Trap, the all girl rock band, performed to a packed house last night at the Bowery Poetry Club. There is something about hot chicks with guitars and tamborines that really brings peoplethrough the door. The place was full of attractive women, including Alison from Joe Millionaire. It’s an interesting venue and I’ll be returning there in March to see a rendition of Romeo and Juliet
performed with finger puppets. Seriously. Let me know if you want to go.

dingus n. Slang. An article whose name is unknown or forgotten.

March snow? Sucks. I was born in snowstorm.

Boopy Trap, the all girl rock band, performed to a packed house last night at the Bowery Poetry Club. There is something about hot chicks with guitars and tamborines that really brings people
through the door. The place was full of attractive women, including Alison from Joe Millionaire. It’s an interesting venue and I’ll be returning there in March to see a rendition of Romeo and Juliet
performed with finger puppets. Seriously. Let me know if you want to go.

dingus n. Slang. An article whose name is unknown or forgotten.

March snow? Sucks. I was born in snowstorm.