Archive for the ‘ Stuff About Dudes ’ Category

Fever For the Flavor of the FIFA

World Cup Fever is everywhere and the only proper antidote is beer and group chanting. Even in the tiny hamlet of Brooklyn, or should I say, especially in the tiny hamlet of Brooklyn, since every bar in the Heights and the Gardens has chalkboard signs proclaiming that they are showing the games and oddly enough, a lot of people are in there. I thought Americans were supposed to hate soccer! We are brought up playing it on teams like (true story) The Goalbusters and The Magicians and even in high school and college, it’s still the sport that rules. Especially if you went to college at a small New England liberal arts school, you could major in dating soccer players with a minor in hooking up with the lacrosse team. But then, the only person who ever did anything with that degree was Posh Spice Victoria Beckham, and she was just an exchange student.


When university education comes to a close though,things change. Like a capella music, soccer is hardly the draw it once was. In the post-college world, people will laugh at you if you say you want to go see the Metrostars play, like, “Really? Why?” So I’m surprised that this many Americans are this excited. But then, I notice these things more this time around because I am now a casualty of the World Cup. I am a World Cup widow.

My companion (when I don’t say what kind of companion he is, it makes him sound like my dog or gay lover, doesn’t it?) is a soccer fanatic. Not quite a hooligan but fanatical enough to have it rub off on me to the point where I actually have a favorite Premier League manager (Jose Mourinho, but only because he’s a sharp dresser) and have been drunk by 12pm on game days. Of course I’m a fanatic about certain things myself, so when the mid-afternoon-drunkies happen, I too become violently emphatic, but only about going to bed by 9pm. As a result of all this, every day until July 9 I have been warned that, while it’s nothing personal, he has a new companion. A lover who, for ninety minutes a pop with occasional stoppage time, will be 100% vice, providing him with everything I can’t. This lover will not tell him to stop eating mac and cheese for every meal. This lover will not ask him to cut down on smoking. This lover will make ice cream sundaes with crack on top him if he wanted it and there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t resent my companion at all, I don’t like being in the minority and if I resented him, roughly 4.5 billion people would wonder what my problem is. Even a war criminal would think I was a jackass. But since he is too busy watching, he won’t mind if I keep myself busy with some headlines (which Stan deserves some credit for as well).

U.S. loses 3-1 against the Czech Republic today. Czech-mate

African team loses 2-0 in Italian upset…Ghana Witha the Winda

Australia beats Japan 3-1 today but there are still plenty of Group F games left so Don’t Get Japanties in a Bunch

Mexico leaves Iran in the dust after winning 3-1. Mexico’s Close But Iran, Iran So Far Away

Portugal defeats a sluggish Angola 1-0 Obtuse Angola

Argentina defeats Ivory Coast 2-1 in Group C first round. These Ivories Are Untickled

Swedes and Trinidad and Tobagans Get into Art School Because They Draw.


Love Sucks!

But comedy about love sucking is funny! Tonight come see me and Jeff Hiller and John Flynn and Jackie Clarke and a whole crapload of other people whose names begin with J at the UCB at 8pm! I will be reading selected special letters from some special men I met in special cyberspace. Stay for the 9:30pm show “14 Kisses”…I was in this show last year and Time Out mentions it this week and not to toot my Yente horn but my sketch was the one that yielded the off-stage action. Yay kisses!

broken heart

Open Letter To the Guy Who I Thought Was My Date Last Night But Clearly Was Not

Dear Guy Who I Sat Next To At The Bar And Started Talking To Because You Said “Hi, What Have You Been Up To Today?” So Therefore I Thought You Were The Guy I was Waiting For,

To be fair, we both walked into the bar at the same time, and when you said “Well THAT was good timing!” I didn’t think it was a “line”. I thought you were the person I planned to meet there, and in retrospect I think that was your blunder. Your overt friendliness, I mean. And then when the bartender said to both of us “What’ll you have?” and we both placed our orders at the same time, that further solidified your status as the person I planned to meet there, wouldn’t you agree? Because I know I agree. With me.

This was definitely one of those moments where being in a Spanish-speaking country would have come in handy, don’t you think, guy? Because we would have known if the bartender meant “What’ll you (usted, singular) have?” or “What’ll you (ustedes, plural) have?”. Either way though thanks for being a sport when he charged you for both drinks. I got your back next time!

So, guy, it’s probably better that we weren’t meant to be each other’s dates last night. You, with your passive nature and confused agreeance to pay and me with my pride when I did not actually ask your name to confirm that you were my date, well, those traits would never mesh. That’s the hard truth.

I’m glad I’m writing you this in a letter, guy. Because if this were a dialogue I would hate to have you address the question of how I could have possibly mistaken you, since you look nothing like your picture. The easy answer of course is “I just assumed your picture online was taken before you grew a full beard and your swarthy complexion definitely didn’t come off quite as dark, I assumed you were experimenting with light and exposure time on your camera”. Obviously, guy. Obviously. I have my reasons and I don’t have to get into this.

Also, I’m sorry I kind of ignored you once my real date showed up. Wow, was it ever obvious that he was the guy I was waiting for as soon as he walked in the door! I mean, if a picture tells a thousand words, his online photo said “I look the same in real life as I do in pictures” 83 times over. No ambiguity there!

My date and I were lost in conversation all night and I feel bad not saying goodbye when we left! Talking to you really helped me break the ice with him, so thank you. Did the people you were waiting for ever show up?

Anyway, lesson learned. For both of us, I guess, wouldn’t you say? From now on, I’m calling happy hour “‘Verify Identity First’ hour”. ha! ha! Take care, guy!

The Master of My Universe

Is it me or is every girl a magnet for guys who love comic books/superheroes/alternate universes? I was almost going to say something about this triumvirate of dorkiness being like kryptonite to me, but I know that does nothing to help my cynical case against you all. I don’t plan to make too much fun because supposing you are the only guys I CAN attract I don’t want to alienate my chances with you all (and if ever a sentence reeked of desperation and “settling” that would be it), but truthfully, I don’t get it. I can respect your appreciation for them, hopefully the way YOU, Potential Suitor, can respect my need for OK! Magazine and emotional eating, but what IS the fascination?

It’s not for a lack of trying to “get it” on my part. I watched Lord of the Rings for goodness sake. TEN hours, people. I spent TEN hours watching this Middle Earth doodoo in the hopes that it would make me more desirable to you because I know who Aragorn is now. But I don’t care! Ten hours and I don’t even know what those two gay hobbits who were stuck in the tree were named. I’m sorry that I failed you, Potential Suitors. I was almost going to make a joke about guys who listen to Emo as well as liking comics and how Emo stands for Emotionally Retarded, but that’s not fair. In the Venn Diagram of dorkiness, not all Emo boys are comic book boys so I would hate to make sweeping generalizations. But seriously, I just wanted you to know that these obsessions handicap you all.

(Call me!!)