Tag Archives: McMann and Tate vs Wolff Olins

Never Get Burn

Oh my my. As far as I’m concerned this has been a really crappy Friday the 13th. Really. Started out with me waking up a bit late at 7:00 and listening to the news on the radio as I made the bed and hearing of the plane crash in Buffalo killing 50 people.

Waking up to bad news like this certainly sucks. I puttered about the apartment, getting it together and heading out to catch the bus. I’ve gotten choosy on what bus I catch. I prefer a coach. It’s probably Bill’s influence from his bus driving days but also it’s a more comfortable ride.

I sat and started reading the New Yorker when my phone vibrated. I try not to talk on the bus, don’t want to be ‘that guy’, but it was my brother Brian so I took the call. He was asking if I was working today and I told him I was en route.

He was working at Hoboken high school. I told him to safeguard his valuables. We chatted and told me what was going on in his life. Total craziness and not in a good way. It’s not my problem and I’m not belittling his situation by saying that.

I only say that to explain I won’t write about it here. It’s his problem and all I can do is offer my support for this particular hell he seems to be going through. And he has my support 1000%. I’m disappointed in some of the players in his tale of woe and I feel bad for what they’re going through.

We wound up on the phone for almost 30 minutes. So much for not wanting to talk while on the bus, but I didn’t really talk outside of saying, ‘Really?’ That’s fucked up’ and ‘I am so sorry you’re going through this’.

I told him I was getting off the bus and he should call me later on if he had the chance. He didn’t call though, but I will always be there for him, come hell or high water.

After that I walked across midtown to work and found my mail box filled with voice mail from the stalker. Her name in Min Young Ahn, but I call her that fucked up Korean bitch.

She was crying and talking in Korean on 2 messages, the rest were in English, telling me she loves me and she was going to move and how could I have said all those nice things to her yet treat her so coldly.

She showed up at my building the other day during my stressed out moments of trying to book a flight for Vivek and his partner. I told security once again that she is absolutely not allowed into the building.

It all depends who is at the security desk, but I guess when they enter her name in the system there is an instruction to notify me immediately. I found out the next day she communicated with security by talking to them while looking at the ceiling.

I had a man date with Steve from my office who was let go when he came back from his honeymoon in October. He still uses the facilities and in January we had decided on Friday afternoons to go have a cigar and drink some scotch at a cigar lounge across the street from his apartment.

At 2:00 I met up with Steve and we picked out some of Harpy’s favorite cigars, the La Flor Domincana Double Ligero. I had a flask that used to belong to my father and filled it up last night with some Dewars.

We sat in some comfortable chairs and sat and shot the shit for over an hour. Good cigars and good scotch made for a pleasant buzz in an otherwise crappy day. We parted ways, he and his wife were driving out to the Poconos and I was going back to the office to get my stuff.

In the office, the right wing nuts had posted a picture of Bill Clinton, who I admittedly do not care for, saying that the current economic crisis was all Clinton’s fault.

My reaction was to print out a Wanted for War Crimes poster featuring the worst president EVER on it and pinned it discreetly in my cube at such an angle so that the main wing nut could see it behind my computer screen if he happened to glance in that direction.

The fucked up thing for me was, ‘if’ the current economic fiasco was Clinton’s fault, why didn’t the douche bag dip shit that followed him do anything about it? Of course they wouldn’t be able to answer that.

Perhaps they would mention that douche bag dip shit was too busy protecting the country from another 9/11 attack, which of course happened on his watch. I’m too busy myself preventing such an attack by hanging a bag of shiny rocks on my windowsill to the left of this computer.

Still buzzed I walked back across town and saw Bill for a few minutes. He was good at calming me down, after I told him all about what was going on in my world and the satellites orbiting. I’m glad he could be there for me when I need it and he says I’m there for him, even when I don’t know it.

We parted ways since it was getting cold out and he wasn’t dressed for it, so I left him with his high beams and continued west to the bus terminal.

Walking down 43rd street I ran into Amiable Alan, also known as Adam Ames. We worked together in 2006 at McMann and Tate aka Wolff Olins. It was odd seeing him in midtown and I asked him if he was still at McMann Olins.

He told me no, that he was let go as well as a lot of people. The company had a account with Washington Mutual and we all know how Washington Mutual turned out. I guess it was a good thing to get out of there when I did.

We caught up for a spell, he’s doing freelance design work and was off to another gig. I walked to the bus terminal and caught a coach bus back to Hoboken. I sat and read Sarah Vowell, The Wordy Shipmates which of course is funny, but the walking and the scotch made for lidded eyes and I closed the book and stared out the window instead.

Bought a Mega Millions lottery ticket, perhaps worth 85 million dollars. That could come in handy when I win it.

Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.

Man in the Street

It’s Tuesday again and it’s not my fault. I did everything in my power to make it Thursday but obviously that didn’t go as planned. My carbon monoxide detectors kept going off last night. It seems if I come home and turn on the heater to medium it sets those buggers off.

So for most of the evening I was sitting in the apartment with the windows open, heaters off and wearing layers as opposed to the single thong I usually wear when I write. Yes butt floss does a writer good. And I keep checking to see if I am red in the face since Harpy hipped me to the fact that carbon monoxide poisoning can be seen when you’re looking beet red.

Visions of Vitas Gerulaitis pass through my consciousness. The late tennis pro died of carbon monoxide poisoning a while back while living in the Hamptons. The detectors haven’t gone off so far and the heaters are on at a minimum.

Obviously I am still alive though by this writing sometimes one can’t tell.

One the bus home today I was reading Sarah Vowell, The Wordy Shipmates and of course it’s very funny but despite me chuckling to myself I could barely keep my eyes open.

That may have been from the errand I had to do taking me from 49th Street and Third Avenue to 56th Street and Seventh Avenue. Right by the Carnegie Club, a posh cigar bar that I have been to a number of times.

Fortunately it wasn’t open.

I say fortunately since I usually bring my own cigars and they charge you $10.00 if you are not going to purchase one of their over priced cigars. It is a good spot though, drinks a bit pricey. It’s best to stick to beer, I’ve found.

Actually what’s best is to go on a company credit card. It’s where I had my going away party when I left Putnam Lovell NBF, I mean, Wanker Banker. Oddly enough I only had one cigar that evening which kept going out due to the fact that I was so chatty that night with everyone wishing me well.

Little did they or I know that where I was going, Wolff Olins, I mean, McMann and Tate was the proverbial fire underneath the frying pan.

I much prefer the Cigar Inn where I’ve been the past two Fridays with Steve the former coworker. You do have to buy your cigars there but you can also bring in your own libation. I don’t know if we’re doing it again this week, neither one of us has brought up the subject.

I walked around listening to the Story of Jamaican Music on the iPod Alexander Lopez got for me over the holidays. After writing about the Jamaican music last night I decided to load them into my iPods.

I listened to all of that so much that I know all of the words and I found myself singing along as I walked through midtown.

It was almost ironic since I saw a messenger walking along rapping along to whatever it was he was listening to while he was doing his errands and I thought it was odd.

But singing about how the train is coming is a lot different than saying ‘I’m gonna shoot that mutha fucka in the fuckin face’.

Wouldn’t you agree?


Union City Blue

Yesterday was Mother’s Day, a day that I am probably at my most low key. True I did see some of my family in the morning, but other than that I kept to myself mainly. Not in the doldrums and not resenting other people who’s mothers are still alive like the first couple of years after my mother passed away. Didn’t do much of anything and right now I can’t think of anything that I might have done.

I did watch Alec Baldwin on 60 Minutes, then watched the Simpsons where to my surprise, Homer’s mother Mona passed away, on Mother’s Day. Don’t know if it was Mother’s Day in Springfield, but it was the day they broadcast it. Homer mourned and fulfilled his mother’s final wishes, dismantling a missile silo inadvertently with his mother’s ashes. King of the Hill was also very good and funny. It’s rare that I watch King of the Hill on it’s own, it’s almost always after watching the Simpsons.

Then I watched Ratatouille, which took me by surprise. It’s was very good and the animation was great. A cute little story. Who knew that rats could be so adorable and not ridden with disease and parasites? I was just glad they didn’t have the rats talking to the people and vice versa. The human, named Linguine did speak but it wasn’t like there was a conversation between him and Remy the rat. Recommended.

After that, then the news. Lots of tornadoes in the Midwest as well as in the south. If I were to use the meteorological and theological skills of John McCrazy’s friend, Pastor John Hagee I would wonder why god hates all of these people in the United States? His rationale for Katrina was the big gay Southern Decadence party scheduled for the week that Katrina hit and god was so angry about that it nearly wiped out New Orleans.

I don’t think many gay people were killed or left homeless so this avenging god just fucked up the lives of those who passionately believe in it, with the pieces still scattered since these oh so pious christians spend more time demonizing LGBT people and not helping the poor and less fortunate that Jesus did and suggested his followers do. So I blame god for these disasters, courtesy of Pastor John Hagee. You use god to explain one catastrophe, why not use the god for all catastrophes? Myanmar and China were simply believing in the wrong god.

Woke up this morning to the sounds of an extremely heavy rain storm, heavy enough for me to send an email saying that I wouldn’t be in. I then went back to bed after texting Lydia that I wouldn’t be in. An hour or so later I felt bad that I wasn’t going in so I contacted Lydia and told her that I might be in if they could ‘finish fixing my ceiling which was leaking’. That was the excuse. I used it once before when working at Wolff Olins or rather, McMann and Tate.

So I was able to take my time and get ready for work at my own pace. I made it into the office a little after 11:00. Most everyone had leaky ceiling stories so they all chimed in with their versions. I told them that the repairs were started pretty much after I sent the initial email and that my really nice neighbors were overseeing the clean up. Still it was a crappy morning, strong winds turning umbrellas inside out.

I took the subway to the office, and it seemed like I was the go to guy for people who didn’t know how to get to where they wanted to go. 3 different people in 5 minutes. Got to the office and surprised everyone which made me look good, coming to work while repairs were being done on my apartment. Today was the day that postage stamps went up a penny so I took it upon myself to get to the post office to get them.

It wasn’t raining when I walked up Third Avenue. I passed this guy who seemed glad to see me. He said his name was Mike and we had some friends in common. A black woman that I am good friends with is his sister. All I could think of was Margaret, Bill’s friend. He rattled on and on about Margaret, how ill she’s gotten. I was surprised at how much he knew, or claimed to know while maintaining a healthy skepticism.

He said he goes to Hunter College and bought a car but the gas guage was broken and he needed some money to get some gas. Like $8.00. I gave him $3.00 and walked away. I called up Bill and asked if Margaret had a brother and it turns out she didn’t. It was a scam, a well played scam, worth $3.00, no more no less.

New Tom Waits video, posted today! Lie To Me.