oh, and today is my birthday. happy birthday to me!!

BIRTHDAY CARDS
Why is it that all birthday cards absolutely suck? Maybe it's just Duane Reade birthday cards, since I never made it all the way to a real store with a better selection, as if Barnes and Noble has the monopoly on quality birthday cards. But I was trying to find a funny one for my father's 55th birthday which was a little over a week ago on January 19. So I go into Duane Reade and it seems like all of the cards they have fit into one of three categories, none of which were worth giving to my father:

1 -- cards that try to be funny but fall way short and are just about the lamest kind of humor that even a three-year-old would think is stupid. The problem with these is that my father is not brain-dead. In fact, he has a very keen sense of humor, (and of course, as his son, I got my sense of humor from him, so we have fairly similar taste, and find many of the same things funny: like farting). Giving my father one of these repulsive cards would not only NOT make him laugh, but it would probably piss him off (not really, but you know, it’d be like spitting in his face). I'm sorry, but I love my father too much to give him something that lame.

2 -- the "serious" and "sentimental" cards which at least don't try to be funny, instead aim for a really cheesy, really lame sentimental tone that sounds not only incredibly unoriginal, but insincere. I'm not talking about the relatively modest cards that say "happy birthday and best wishes." I'm talking about the cards that go over the top with disingenuous platitudes and say things that no normal person would ever say to another person with a straight face. Well, that's not going to fly either.

3 -- then there are my favorite cards. The ones that have absolutely nothing to do with my father, and are pretty much irrelevant. Of course I'm talking about the card that goes on and on about how my father likes to fix things -- complete with pictures of a father fixing the car, the VCR, and things around the house. While this may apply to most other fathers, my father has never fixed a thing in his life. My father is unique, so he defies being categorized into one of those cards’ categories. Here are a few examples of how my father is just a little bit different than most other fathers:

For dinner, most fathers will sit down to a normal meal. My father discovers that we have no food in the house, (and I'm honestly not joking -- my childhood was very difficult), and make himself a tomato and bread sandwich -- no meat, no mustard, no cheese, just tomato.

Most fathers will watch the news and read the newspaper and generally believe what they read and see from a variety of well-known sources. My father refuses to believe most of what is printed or is said on television, and instead goes to gossipy web sites that purport to have the real truth (mainly news about the Middle East). But even these sites he rarely takes at face value. Then in heated discussion at the dinner table (‘dinner’ only truly occurs on big occasions, like thanksgiving, and the discussions are generally with relatives), he will explain that "I write my own script," which essentially means he makes up whatever he wants, and believes it. I’d love to see a Hallmark card that makes a joke out of that.

My father is a doctor in private practice and is absolutely obsessed with running his office as efficiently, and with as little overhead, as possible. That's fine, but this has been the topic of 95% of our conversations since about five years ago.

He wakes up at 5:30 a.m. and runs 10 mi. -- he's run more than half a dozen marathons, the first in 1990. He goes to sleep at about 9 PM, and yells at me whenever I plan on going out after 9:30 p.m. (when I was living at home).

He hasn't flown in probably 30 years.

Two summers ago, when we took a family trip and drove up to Cape Cod, he listened to the song "smooth" by Rob Thomas and Santana on repeat for the entire four-hour drive.

So my father is in a category by himself, and Duane Reade simply did not have an acceptable birthday card for him.


PREWASH
why is it that most people prewash their dishes before putting them into the dishwasher? I feel like that's a real insult to your dishwasher, like you're selling it short. By washing the dishes, you are essentially telling the dishwasher, "sorry, you're not good enough to adequately clean my dishes. I don't trust you."

When my grandparents used to come into New York when I was young, they would always insist on literally soaping up and scrubbing all of the dishes and silverware before placing them into our dishwasher. Does this make any sense? I think I questioned my grandmother once about it, explaining that the dishwasher basically does what she is in the middle of doing, and that was kind of the reason the dishwasher was invented in the first place, so that she doesn't have to slave away at the kitchen sink. She didn't seem to like my tone, and we quickly got into a fight. I learned never to question the ways of elders again.

But I can totally understand getting The big stuff off of your plates, like rice or chicken or things that won't go down the drain, or soaking the pots and pans before putting them in the dishwasher. Fine, I won't argue too much with that, (God knows I argue about most things though).

But I'd like it to be known that I would be extremely comfortable being in a trust fall situation where my dishwasher were my partner. I never clean anything before putting it into my dishwasher, and my dishwasher has never let me down. (I guess I should be honest though, I also don’t mind eating moldy bread and I live on a rat infested street -- so maybe my standards are a little bit lower. Whatever.)

HOLDING DOORS FOR GIRLS
Whenever I hold a door for a girl as I’m exiting a building, they never put their hands up to hold the door themselves for their way out. When a guy holds a door for another guy, the other guy will extend his arm and hold the door himself as he exits. This is understood. Girls do not do this. Ever. They keep both arms down, most don't even look up, and they just assume that the guy will hold the door for them until they are safely out of harm's way. Maybe this is one of the big debates like putting the toilet seat down, but I'm honestly not bitching about this because I don't want to hold the door, or because I don't want to be courteous. On the contrary, this bothers me so much because I consistently forget that girls never will hold the door themselves, so as I'm on my way out I will sometimes forget to look behind me and just continue walking. My biggest fear is letting go of a really heavy door onto a very small girl whose hands are not up. "Her life was in your hands, dude.”


FROZEN PEE
so we've had some seriously cold weather for the past month. It is consistently below freezing, which means that nothing on my block has thawed, including all of the dog pee. I can't tell you how much of the sidewalk of 108th St. is covered in yellow ice. Oh, and don't forget about all of the frozen shit also.

Now that we just had another 6 in. of snow last night, I fear the frozen pee will never go away. Damn you frozen pee!!

FREEZING IN MY ROOM
My room is cold. Really really cold. Basically I have two really large windows that might as well be open ‘cause they don’t do shit to keep the cold out, and a tempermental radiator that spits at me whenever I turn it on And let me tell you how great it is to have water spraying from my radiator -- within about 2 ft. of it is my electric guitar, guitar amp, computer, external hard drive, video camera, shall I go on? (space constraints forced me to set up my room this way).

So all I'm left with is a space heater, which sufficiently heats approximately 15 in.² of my apartment. I hate the cold more than anything else one might be capable of hating.

My room is on the first floor and faces the street, so I can usually hear and see a lot of what's going on from my window. Every now and then I'll see the figure of a person standing right outside my window on the windowsill which is one of the scariest things imaginable because it's like somebody is about the break-in. But what I realize was that the person was simply using my windowsill as a step to get onto the fire escape, (for some reason this sets my mind at ease), and climb up the fire escape to what I would presume is his apartment.

So it's about 3 AM right now, I'm listening to music, about to go to sleep, and the same shadowy figure climbs up on my windowsill. I think nothing of it. Why should I consider myself with someone who climbs on my windowsill at 3 AM? Then he knocks on my window. I open the shade, and he says he doesn't have his key, that he lives in the apartment, and could I let him in.

So I let in two guys. One guy I recognize immediately since I see him pretty often. He tells me that he forgot his key and that usually when that happens he simply climbs up the fire escape since he lives on the second floor. Unfortunately, there's ice on the fire escape so it makes it very hard to climb, he tells me. Anything I want, he says, he'll give me to pay me back.

I'm assuming he's talking about drugs. I don't really want drugs, but I definitely could go for a stolen television.

"Blind date: Uncensored" is the greatest piece of filmmaking ever. I want to go on that show more than ever now.

walked home from grand central this evening after visiting a friend -- about 4.2 miles.

I was walking around the upper west side and noticed that all the apartment buildings have names. Very pretentious names. Caitlin is housesitting for her cousin -- his building is called "the century building." others are named "the briarcliffe" or "the austin." i decided my apartment deserves to be named, so when i give people directions i dont say "it's 204 w 108th." no, i want to be able to give a name. i want the pomp that all the rich people have.

let me just say, i think my apartment has all the amenities an upper west side apartment has.

- swimming: on hot days, (and many other days), you'll find all the water you need -- gushing out of a firehydrant just 100 feet away from the doorstep.

- doorman: i still dont know his name, but he stands at the entrance for literally the entire day, every day, smoking cigarettes and watching whatever goes on outside. a nice, older man, he always greets you on your way in or out.

- movies: forget the movie rooms that some apartments offer -- we've got the real thing just outside. new jack city? boys n the hood? its all here -- in real life. from your window you can watch the drug dealers -- forget HBO's "the corner." we have our own corner. not interested? change the channel by turning your head -- we have pay per view fights every night around 4am, we have specials on how to treat women like hoes, and don't forget reefer madness. you can practically smell the weed from your window -- unless you're me. Then you actually get high because it's literally right outside your window. unfortunately, all the shows are in spanish, with no subtitles.

- mailroom: we have plenty of people who will take your UPS packages waiting for your in the lobby. they can also sell you some kind bud. they might not actually give you your packages though. But sometimes you can purchase a TV from them late at night.

maybe that's what i'll name my apartment. from this moment on, i have christened my building "the mailroom."