Back to work today, another Monday, but with the beach in my blood. It really put me to sleep last night and carried me through the day. It was an ok day. Bill left early, before I even woke up. I stumbled about the apartment, making coffee, getting into the shower. Not hustling into the office on Friday gave me a good sense of timing which I applied today. It was fairly easy going on the streets, a sense of calmness in my mind carried over from Monmouth Beach. Plantain man was behind the register in shorts that were oh so tight in the crotch area. He’s all smiles when he sees me though we don’t say too much. Such body language!

The Path was crowded but I was fortunate to be in an air conditioned car though the more it filled the less air conditioning I could feel. The sun was beaming already and it was only a little after 8:00. I walked on the shady side of the street. Shady, in most every sense of the word. Besides the buildings blocking direct sunlight, the sidewalk was populated with various guys setting up shop selling whatever used magazines, or books or porn, some asleep on top of tarps on top of whatever it was they were selling.

I walked down Downing Street rather than Carmine Street. A lot quieter and shadier, due to the trees lining the street. Some people walking their dogs and some going to work. I walked into the lobby of the building and chatted briefly with Harold the security guy. He and I get along pretty well. Nice guy. I doubt if anyone else from my office even knows his name. I’d be surprised if they did.

I rode the elevator with Larry Whitehead, the CEO of McMann and Tate. He’s Mr. California Cool. He’s married to a statuesque Amazon and just came back from Fire Island for the weekend. We chatted briefly about what all over the world strangers talk about, the weather. I walked around the office and didn’t even turn on the computer when one of the ditzes in the office says she broke the coffee machine. Seems she tried to turn it on and actually make coffee herself which was admirable yet foolish since she didn’t know what she was doing. And to prove a point, I moved the full coffee pot and burned my finger. My middle finger. Most apt. At various times throughout the day I was legitimately giving people the finger.

The nail is in the coffin regarding a return to Wanker Banker, not that I actually believed it was going to happen. It would’ve been too odd. Helen Devilakos, quite possibly the last time I ever write that stubby name, put the kibosh on it. I found out when I called up to find out what happened to my missing transit check funds. Though the money is mine, I paid into it, the Transit Check money went back to Wanker Banker after my benefits with them lapsed. It’s only thirty five dollars, but it was MY thirty five dollars. A pox on the house of Devilakos! May her sausage fingers cramp when she’s trying to adjust the water temperature on her shower stall.

I simply can’t curse someone like I used to.

Beach day with Julio, Stine and Bill. A wonderful day, today, a dry heat not humid. Everything went well with Julio finally getting an EZ Pass so that meant we all flew down the highways without having to stop for tolls, and boy they were lined up at the toll booths. Julio drove of course, Stine rode shotgun and Bill and I lounged in the back seat with me playing DJ once again.

Yesterday was quite a fun day. Meeting up with Rey and Connie in Central Park brought forth a lot of stories from our past excursions to Summerstage. Most if not all of those excursions were alcohol fueled and many laughs indeed. And yesterday was no different. Connie and I sat in the shade while Rey would occasionally ump in the crowd for some dancing. Connie and I both agreed that Rey was crazy and that it was too damn hot to go dancing in the sun.

I got Rey to stop drinking the Coors Light and he switched over to Stella with me. Stella definitely kicked Coors ass. We walked around the park for a little while afterwards, the three of us consuming massive quantities of water and finding a quick nosh. I was able to convince Rey that driving me home would be beneficial for all concerned. Unfortunately while driving through the Lincoln Tunnel I had to listen to how much he hates the Beatles.

Rey grew up on hip hop and just doesn’t get most rock and roll, or at least does not understand the deification of the Beatles. He kept insisting on my naming one Beatles song that he could like, and all I could come up with was Helter Skelter. At least it was something he probably would’ve heard of, either by the song itself or by the book written by Vincent Bugliosi.

It didn’t matter since he was basically baiting me, knowing how I feel about the Beatles. He was reveling in his callousness, and I was enjoying it since it did entail a free ride home. Connie just sat in the back seat while he ranted. He dropped me off outside the apartment building wrangling a promise to visit him upstate when he goes on vacation in a week or two.

I think he also asked me to be the best man at his wedding, though no date has been set. I am honored I think, though I’m dreading having to throw him a bachelor party if that is the case. They make a good couple and it should be some wedding. Me and his CO buddies. Could you imagine? It would be some scene.

Juan came over with some Heinekens and we drank those while watching the Warriors which I kept pronouncing as the Worriers. Juan: What’s it about? Me: About of people who are worried. It was a fun movie, not as violent now as it was then oddly enough. It was considered a violent movie in 1979. Now in 2006 there are far worse things on television.

The beach was fantastic, we left around 9:00 this morning, and wisely took a different approach since Bill and I watched both the traffic and weather reports and avoided a major pitfall. We made it to the beach at 11:00 after stopping off to get beer and sandwiches and fruits. The beach was hot and we set up four umbrellas.

Last time at the beach we lost Julio’s glow in the dark Frisbee. It flew into some crashing waves and was never seen again, so in the interim, Julio bought two new Frisbees online. One was 200 grams and the other was 175 grams. Both very good for the beach. At one point Bill, Stine and Julio and I were throwing the Frisbee when someone (not me) threw an errant toss and once again into the waves and lost to the ocean again.

The four of us fanned out, with me actually going into the 80 degree water to no avail. The ocean took another Frisbee, much like certain neighbors one has who when the ball lands in their yard, they won’t let you have it back. Who knew that ocean would resemble Marie Natale from Riverview Avenue.