Redefining Rockel

You know I never discuss female thermodynamics - Lou; Rescue Me

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The WORD of the Week

Matthew 3:7-10

But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to where he was baptizing, he said to them: "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?

Produce fruit in keeping with repentance.

And do not think you can say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father.' I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham.

The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.

Stupid Fact of the Week

There was only one civilian casualty during the three-day Battle of Gettysburg

27 November, 2005

Tales From NYC: Went To Hell's Kitchen, Going To Hell (Part 3)

"Man, they must've been thick," Adam told me later, "both of us... from London... I mean, come on. What was I thinking?" (Remember what I told you about Adam?) He was unaware that I had alleviated that indiscretion later that evening, claiming to being born in Ireland before moving to London as a boy.

"You're British," he turns and says to me.
"What?"
"We're both from England."
"Why?"
He responded only with a shrug and a look of confusion and amazement that was fraught with much more meaning than perhaps necessary. Or at least, so it seemed at the time.

The evening progressed with thick accents, surprising football events, and me chatting it up with Debbie, the taller, skinnier, and older, we would come to find out, companion of Christy.

And of course our mere presence was not enough to shake the retards from the immediate vicinity, and so we continued to enjoy the floor show of embarrassingly deliberate sexual hopes and desires.

I laughed until I quite literally almost wet myself. I excused myself.

When I returned, Adam was pulling his hat out of his coat pocket, zipping himself up, and preparing for the night air. The ladies were already making their way towards the door, along side the hooligans. Adam looked over in my direction and his face went all panicky once again. He stepped up next to me and yelled.

"Oh my God, dude! They want us to go to a different bar."
"Serious?"
"Totally." He jumped back into the dialect even though no applicable parties were anywhere near.
"Well?"
"Dunnos."

The look on his face showed that he was still processing this entirely unbelievable turn of events. I knew I could say "No," and we would leave, and both he and I would feel immense relief to no longer have to keep up this fun little lie.

But what fun would that be?

I jumped back into the dialect myself.

"Well, we'd better hurry before they run off and leave us here twiddlin' our thumbs."
"Alright!"

His face lit up. Despite the insane amount of work it took to constantly select what you will say and how you will say it, especially in the midst of a loud, alcohol infused setting, the opportunity to be someone else for an entire evening was far too brilliant for such a young, method actor to just walk away from.

We ran out into the cold night to find the group hailing taxis.

There were 8 of us. Myself, Shatarsky, Christy, Debbie, and the four Jackals.

One taxi showed up and three of the Jackals hopped in. A taxi could usually hold four people. So this little event caused a bit of wonderment, since we now needed two more cabs instead of just one. Later we would find out that the remaining Jackal was doing everything in his power to overcome Debbie with his sexual prowess.

Another taxi was finally hailed, and after the report from the driver that he would take no more than four people, I, knowing full well what Adam would do, said that I would hang back and catch another.

For a second there was a pause. I began to question him. But then he spoke up.

"Yeah. You ladies go ahead. We'll meet you there."

He had already infested her head. I was afraid of that. "I'll wait around with you," Christy said. And with that the taxi sped off, leaving Christy alone with the British likes of Shatarsky and Me.

"Oh, no!" Christy exclaimed as soon as they were out of sight, and as we were failing miserably at trying to flag a cab. "I just let my friend get into a cab alone with someone I don't even know!"

You're about to do the same, I thought to myself. And just like that, a cab pulled up and in we went.

"To the Cellar Bar, please, mate!"

posted by Rockel @ 3:48 PM

2 Comments:

At 27/11/05 4:44 PM, Anonymous said…

I am not good at this patience thing....
At 27/11/05 5:03 PM, Margie said…

I just happened upon your blog and had to tell you that you are an excellent writer. I can't wait to find out what happens next...:)

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Lyrics of the Week

ON THE NICKEL
by Tom Waits

("I'd like to do a new song here. This is eh, it's about downtown Los Angeles on 5th Street. And eh all the winos affectionately refer to it as The Nickel. So this is kind of a hobo's lullaby.")

sticks and stones will break my bones,
but i always will be true, and when
your mama is dead and gone,
i'll sing this lullabye just for you,
and what becomes of all the little boys,
who never comb their hair,
well they're lined up all around the block,
on the nickel over there.

so you better bring a bucket,
there is a hole in the pail,
and if you don't get my letter,
then you'll know that i'm in jail,
and what becomes of all the little boys,
who never say their prayers,
well they're sleepin' like a baby,
on the nickel over there.

and if you chew tobacco, and wish upon a star,
well you'll find out where the scarecrows sit,
just like punchlines between the cars,
and i know a place where a royal flush,
can never beat a pair, and even thomas jefferson,
is on the nickel over there.

so ring around the rosie, you're sleepin' in the rain,
and you're always late for supper,
and man you let me down again,
i thought i heard a mockingbird, roosevelt knows where,
you can skip the light, with grady tuck,
on the nickel over there.

so what becomes of all the little boys,
who run away from home,
well the world just keeps gettin' bigger,
once you get out on your own,
so here's to all the little boys,
the sandman takes you where,
you'll be sleepin' with a pillowman,
on the nickel over there.

so let's climb up through that button hole,
and we'll fall right up the stairs,
and i'll show you where the short dogs grow,
on the nickel over there.