Bill | johnozed | Page 486

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?

Well Chaz once again threw a pretty good party. All very adult, chit chat and cocktails. The promised snow storm didn’t happen. I was starving beforehand so I ate a light supper about two hours early. Bill was in the city, fortifying himself with Claratin. Chaz has a cat, Lily (who once tried to take my eye out) and Bill is hyper-allergic to cats.

Rand and Lisa were going too so plans were made to meet at the Path train. I stopped off at Karma Cafe gingerly stepping over the kitchen help laying about the floor and got a gift certificate for Chaz. I started walking down Washington Street when I got a phone call from Bill who was in the city and about to head into the 14th Street Path station.

He mentioned meeting at Journal Square which made sense since the train he would be on would be going to Journal Square after Hoboken. But he wasn’t going to make a move until I gave the go ahead. The plan was to meet at the station so I told Bill that yes we would meet in Jersey City.

Rand and Lisa were a block or two behind me so when I got to the station I called them. They thought we would all be taking a cab from Hoboken to Jersey City Heights and I explained the situation. Rand and Lisa and I met on the platform, Bill on a train already, somewhere.

Nice ride and a few laughs along the way. We got off at Journal Square where we found Bill disembarking from the same train that we were on. He was in a different car, you see. I figured we would be taking a taxi from Journal Square so I bought a six pack of Stella Artois which cost more than usual since it was part of the train station.

When I left the store, it was suggested that we could walk. That was fine by me and I was surprised to find out that Lisa and Bill were into it. I know Bill isn’t a fan of the cold. I could have bought a six pack closer to Chaz’ house but it didn’t matter. Rand and I led the way with Bill and Lisa chatting it up a few feet behind us.

It wasn’t too bad of a walk, a frozen drizzle would rain on occasion but overall it was harmless. We were on Carlton Avenue before we knew it and soon we were in Chaz’ warm living room next to a kitchen table crowded with food and snacks.

Chaz made some excellent vegetarian chili as well, which I only had a tiny portion. Chaz’ lifelong friend Andy was there with his friend Howard. They made for a nice couple as well as Debra and Roy another couple that I only seem to see at Chaz holiday party.

No Dave McKenzie, no Connie and no Kathe. Dave was in Kentucky, Connie was fearful of the blizzard that wasn’t happening and Kathe had gotten out of work in Astoria and was just too tired to make the hike. And it would have been a hike for Kathe from Astoria and Connie could be excused since it would be unnerving to drive home in the middle of the night back to Highlands.

From what Chaz said, Connie was angry with the fact that she wasn’t going to be at the party.

Chaz had presents for most everyone, Bill and I getting a Simpsons calendar as well as a Simpsons bottle opener and two DVD’s, the Outkast movie Idlewild and the Paul Giamatti movie Sideways. You could tell it was a good party, lot’s of food, and drinks and before we knew it it was 1:00 in the morning and Bill was on the phone calling for a taxi to take us back to Hoboken.

Bill was heading back to Stuyvesant Town so Rand, Lisa and I rode to the Path train and saw Bill off. The three of us walked up Washington Street in a light drizzle past people lined up outside of bars trying to get in. I parted ways with Rand and Lisa on 7th Street with hugs and kisses.

I came home and watched Saturday Night Live for a bit while enjoying a night cap before going to bed myself. I waited to hear from Bill to make sure he got home alright. He did but was waylaid by his allergy since the Claratin wore off.

That’s it for now, back to rearranging the deck chairs tomorrow.

Here’s some pics.