i just want to conquer people and their souls

I've discussed my boo the Manimal and his "Chamber of Wonders"  before on this weblog. Those of you who are faithful readers will know that not just anything makes it into the wunderkammer. Oh no! To be included in his  creepy cornucopia the trinket in question must exist on a higher plane of amazingness. I think we can all agree that this real alpaca foot shot glass from Colombia  eclipses most contenders and earns its place next to the taxidermied cane toad drinking Johnny Walker Red. Welcome home, alpaca foot shot glass.

Ohboyohboyohboy!! I don't really think I need to explain why I want this: It leaves my hands free for mayhem! The Wine Lanyard is officially replacing the "Bottle of Wine Glass" on my 2010 Christmas List. Take note, friends! Unless they make a Bottle of Wine Glass Lanyard, that is!

Q: What has two legs, a rat's tail and a shopping bag full of Chang stubbies? A: The man of my dreams! Just kidding, folks. Unfortunately some other lucky lady scooped him up. But, this perfectly describes the summer clientele of my next Travel Tips locale: Patong Beach, Thailand. This golden dream is located on the island of Phuket, a veritable beacon to the world's classiest folks. Patong has none of that Euro-trash you find stinking up the Italian and French Rivieras with their luxury yachts and designer fashions. No, no! Patong shuns these folks and bids them adieu with one dismissive wave of its acrylic-nailed paw.  No spray tan, no cornrows - no entry, my friend. Based on the promise of such high standards, my wife and I donned our best counterfeit Heineken tank tops and waded in to the fray. Would we be accepted? Would our sunglasses burns be large, and ghastly pale, enough? Could we drink an entire bucket of Thai moonshine and earn our keep amongst the th...

Hello my lovely readers! Long time, no rant. No, I haven't been killed by an insane Opus Dei Ranga hell bent on suppressing my knowledge of his evil doings. I also have not run off to join a wayward band of knife fighters. Far better friends, someone actually paid me money to do "research" in South East Asia! (shown below) *side note: Readers. I am so happy here that I have lost my edge. I have nothing to rant about - only raves, i tell you. I am sure approximately 33 nanoseconds in Brooklyn will fix all of that. What this means is that I decided to smear some greasepaint under the old peepers and "go rogue" for a few months. It also means that I have neglected to inflict my unique brand of psychotic venting on you for a while. I'm sure you managed without me somehow (although I'm sure it wasn't easy). Well, I'm not back yet; I still have a week or so of mayhem left. However, I thought I'd whet your appetites a little by mentioning t...

As I was perusing the news a few moments ago, I came upon the following picture. May I be the first to say a resounding "What.The.Hell??" Apparently, this "giant sinkhole" just opened up in Guatemala City after some floods. It ate a building and an entire intersection. What?!? Were you all aware that this could happen? Because, if so, one of you could have let me know. I might have turned out like the poor family of four from Quebec who died while a giant sink hole swallowed their house as they watched ice hockey on TV. Where does that thing even go? Is there molten-hot magma at the bottom?  Maybe I'm being rash. Perhaps that was just a bad angle.  Uh, no.  What with this, the flaming tornadoes and the standing-up-anteaters , I'm off to pour myself a double strength G&T to drink in my bunker as I wait for Armageddon.

This man is my new hero and style icon. Sometimes you just have to show those bears who's boss.

Hello readers! How would you describe your commute to work this morning? Were you trapped in your car, being subjected to some early morning traffic? Did the radio not play what you wanted it to? Did someone cut you off? Was your commute mildly unpleasant, the transportation equivalent of a melon-heavy fruit salad? Guess what I did? * Note that I simply chose this morning's subway incident. The subway is like the lottery: some days could hold the elation of escaping into the armpit of a tall businessman, other days one may experience the sweet terror of being trapped in the car with an actual crazy person. The NYC subway commute is life's version of craps, except you always roll "Snake Eyes" and never a Boxcar. If you are a loyal reader reader (ha!) you will be familiar with my morning commute ; it is a science, nay, a religion. Getting out of the door is only half the battle, my friends. Next comes Satan's Playground, otherwise known as the New York City M...