Monthly Archives: August 2011

I Could Be Happy (Again)

The oh so unhappy syphilitic life of Phillip Andorr began when he was raised in a box next to a garbage can of medical waste. His smother was next to a lamppost and may have been impregnated when an overzealous dog chased a rabbit which turned out to be his father who was the understudy in a Fenway production of Harvey.

Phillip was a Red Sox fan and only by the decree of the most holy roamin’ apostolic church of idiocy was he spared the child and spoiled a rod. Phillip was an unhappy lad, not liked by anyone at all which made for an extremely bitter life overall.

No sweetness for Phillip Andorr, all sour and scorn for him. A truly nasty beast which haunted most of Long Island. It couldn’t have been easy but then again, being a Red Sox fan more than likely helped with his disconsolate lifestyle.

A teenager with sticky fingers Phillip found himself banned from both strip malls and strip clubs. His misogynistic tendencies did not help in either location and when he figured out what it was that was causing his routine absence of sense it only amped up his disquiet.

Phillip barked like a mad dog at passing cars whenever possible and it was then and there that he found redemption or at least what passed for redemption but Phillip actually figured out what it was that was bothering him. It was himself.

He looked into the reflection of a hub cap when he was laying in the gutter and wondered why life had dealt him such a lousy hand. That was my attempt at getting back at a true wanker who was a horrible customer that I had to deal with. Drivel and nonsense and fun to write.

I know I know, you’re thinking ‘John Ozed, is this one of your lousy attitude flip outs?’ And it isn’t, though of course you have every right to think so. You have every right to think about whatever it is you might want to think about. But for this I have back up.

Bradley witnessed the whole event and would back me if asked. And it was caught entirely on camera, which by the way added a lot more than 10 pounds to Phillip Andorr’s expanding frame. As I walked Phillip Andorr into the room he felt like I was watching him to make sure he wasn’t shoplifting. Now the only person who might think that would be a shoplifter, but still I gave him a doubtful benefit.

I tried to explain why I was there but Phillip Andorr was adamant that I was being too vigilant with regards to the criminal escapades in his dark and dank mind. Bradley heard this and offered to help but realized that there was no helping this loose loser. He flamboyantly showed Bradley and myself what he got and Bradley thought it best to let him wait a few seconds so he can cool off.

I took Bradley’s advice and there was Phillip Andorr so upset, as if an Ulster man ran over his turtle. I did my best to get this cancer out of the store as soon as possible and Phillip Andorr helped by calling me ‘Sweetie’ and I am sure he didn’t mean it as a term of endearment since discharge like Phillip Andorr wouldn’t know a term of endearment if it bit him in the face (and it certainly looked like that happened). But Phillip Andorr is out of my life and hopefully it will have nothing to do with your life.

That’s the way it goes I suppose. I should have been a proctologist, what with all the assholes that have been crossing my path the past months. With Lazy Teat Greg still reading this blog every day, followed by Miss Shack Thing and now in the flesh and blood, Phillip Andorr.

Can it get any better? Can they get any more bitter? Probably.

I Corinthians, 15:55

It’s back to work today after a weekend that was all about Hurricane Irene. It wasn’t as bad as the original predictions but still it was a stormy night. I went to bed around 2:00 in the morning. I sit by my computer which is next to a window facing south and I couldn’t hear the storm but when I went to the bedroom it was nothing but wind and rain, both quite loud.

Made for an uneasy night of falling asleep but despite all that I was able to get some shut eye. I woke up hours later with Bill telling me that Dawn Zimmer, Hoboken’s mayor was saying that power might be shut off in various parts of Hoboken for public safety.

That was enough to get me out of bed to make a pot of coffee before going back to bed. I had hoped the power would stay on long enough to brew some coffee and it was. An hour or so later I got out of bed again, no news, no real damage to our neighborhood. But we had power.

I was glad that Bill and I made trips to the supermarket since everything was closed yesterday. We had plenty of water, juice, food and two six packs of Stella Artois, plus I had a few cigars, so we were ready. I had some emails and texts from friends out of the area.

Alirio in Montclair invited us out to his place if we needed to evacuate. Sarah and Bob Pierson did the same, inviting us to Tuxedo, NY. While it was great to hear from friends, we had no way to get there. We were OK on the fifth floor.

Bill was napping when I decided to take a walk outside. I had gotten a text from Lois asking if she and her husband Fred could tag along. I had no objections to that I proceeded to walk uptown in their direction. We passed by a few shops that Lois was friendly with, wanting to make sure they were OK. They turned out to be alright, no damage that we could see.

The three of us walked over to the river and saw whatever it was to see there, walking down from 13th street, down River Road and Sinatra Drive. Uprooted trees, much like the one down my block, only not as large as the uprooted tree down my block. Debris from the river and it’s high tide were left around on the promenade by the river.

We walked past city hall where National Guard trucks were parked outside. A few blocks west of city hall was where the street had filled with several feet of water. A friend, Lisa lived nearby and she had fled town the night before. She was on the top floor and the first floor of her building was flooded. I left her a voice mail and sent her a photo.

She later called back thanking me profusely. I walked around the block with Lois and Fred to make sure that the Guitar Bar was safe and sound and it was. I then called Meghan Taylor, ‘the funniest girl in the world’ and told her the same. It turned out that Jim and Meghan had stopped by earlier in the day to make sure that both the Guitar Bar and Guitar Bar Jr. were OK.

It started raining again and Lois, Fred and I made our way back up Washington Street and to our respective apartments. I showed them the tree that had been uprooted down my block and they were both impressed. I went back home where Bill was wide awake. He certainly slept alot over the weekend. Our broadcast channels were out and on basic cable I watched The Shawshank Redemption. It’s one of Bill’s favorites though he didn’t watch it this time.

He was busy doing something on his laptop. Perfect timing since as soon as Shawshank ended True Blood began. But we weren’t able to get it since our HBO was out with the broadcast channels. We watched Lawn hors d’œuvre SVU until it was time to watch the unwatchable 11:00 News.

Bill went to bed after that and I was able to watch the west coast showing of True Blood which was very good. Only two episodes left and things are being tied up fast.

Home again, back with Bill and quite happy to be home after yet another under performing day with top sales, almost hitting five figures. What will I do with that bad attitude? Any wankers have a clue?