The Liam McEneaney Experience

HELLO AMELIA DAVID! TODAY IS AMELIA DAVID DAY!
Every day this week, I am dedicating a day to someone who wrote me a nice private message about my Blog. And Amelia's was so nice it literally made my week.
By the way, this is a Federal holiday, so take the day off from work. And if you're at work, get your boss on the line right now and tell him or her, "Look, I'm taking the rest of the day off. Why? Because today is Ameila David Day, and if you don't like it, you can shove it where the sun doesn't shine, you lardinous turd."

SAD NEWS
I've been keeping these blogs in text files on a disc labeled "Blogs" in a pocket of my knapsack. Getting out of the subway last night, I noticed the pocket open and the disc gone.
I can only assume it's been stolen. To be honest, if you're stealing a disc labeled "Blogs," you probably need my amusing reflections on life more than I do (who am I, Bil Keane?).
To rip off Janean Garofalo: if you see some crackhead doing a bit about the movie "Frailty" that isn't getting any laughs, you know where he got it from.
The same place I did; some open miker who won't know I ripped him off, heh heh heh.

SOMETIMES I FEEL OLD
The other day I was on the bus eavesdropping on two high-school girls - and that's all I was doing, Mr. Filthy Mind. They were sitting in front of me, and I couldn't help but eavesdrop. "Eavesdrop," "violate federal law," it's all semantics isn't it?
Anyway, one said to the other, "Last night I rented this movie called, 'Back to the Future'."
The other said, "Oh yeah, I've heard of that."
"You should see it. It's good."
"I don't know."
WHAT??!!! When I was in high school, if you said "I've never seen 'Back to the Future'," the next sentence was usually, "But then again, I grew up in Amish country."

WELCOME BACK
I was talking to a friend of mine from high school, and she's now a teacher - which is a scary thought in and of itself, if you knew me and my friends, and I was kidding around and I said, "Me and my wife, we're into the swinging lifestyle."
And she automatically corrected: "My wife and I."
I don't know what's funnier, that someone who was a fellow, shall we say, "Care-Less-Than-I-Should-About-School" person in high school correcting my English, or the fact that that was the most objectionable part of that sentence to her.

* * *

I WROTE THIS ON SUNDAY, WHEN I WAS NOT FEELING WELL:
(But I feel much better, thank you.)

I AM SICK
It's spring time, for Chrissakes! Why do I have the walking flu?

So I was in line at the drug store behind a woman buying cold medicine and a 40.
That's like saying, "I care about my body - oh wait, no I don't."
She wasn't fighting the cold, she was ready to party it to death.
That's like saying, "Okay, cold, I'm going to pass out now. When I come to, I expect you to take your shit and be gone."

I bought DayQuil, which is kind of dumb. It's NyQuil without the alcohol. That's like saying, "I want to smoke some crack, but I don't feel like getting high."

I like over-the-counter cold medicine, because I'm too wussy to do real drugs. I think that the packaging is missing an important advisory, concerning the one factor that decides what cold medicine I'm going to buy:
A "This shit will fuck you up" advisory.
Wouldn't that be nice? Then you could look and see, "Oh, Tylenol for Kids, this says, "This shit will barely fuck you up'."
NyQuil: "This shit will fuck you up." Tylenol PM: "This is the Date Rape Drug."
One time, I was complaining because I had a headache, and someone gave me a Tylenol PM. Not only did my headache go, but I woke up in Mexico wearing a matador costume and a wife from Vegas.

HELLO BEX SCHWARTZ! TODAY IS BEX SCHWARTZ DAY!
This week, I'm dedicating a day to everyone who sends me a nice message about this blog.

If my Blog were a bad Morning Zoo program, I'd call this:

MONDAY MORNING MAIL CALL!
Once again, this is a real letter I sent out, to a Quality Inn in Washington. I'll post a reply if I get one.

QUALITY INN
100 E. Kellogg Rd.
Bellingham, WA 98226

Dear Sirs;
I recently had the pleasure of staying at your fine quality motel.
However, I think I accidentally left a Bible in the nightstand of my room.
If anyone turns in a Bible, please let me know.

Much thanks,
Liam McEneaney


SAD SINGLE GUY'S SUNDAY SCHEDULE:

* 9am: Wake up. Go to the bathroom. Check clock. Wonder why you're awake at such an ungodly hour.
* NOON: Wake up. Go to the bathroom. Check clock. Wonder if you have a couple more hours of sleep in you.
* 12:15pm: Breakfast of whatever Chinese food you didn't eat Friday night.
* 12:30pm: Shower. Realize that you've forgotten to buy soap again. Pour shampoo into hand and wash yourself with that. Realize that you're now out of shampoo. Think, "Oh great, what am I going to wash with tomorrow?" See conditioner and feel relief.
* 1:00pm: Begin process of doing laundry by playing PlayStation 2 "for only ten minutes."
* 2:00pm: Accidentally see clock, realize that you haven't started laundry yet. Firmly resolve to stop playing "after next turn."
* 2:30pm: Start laundry process by selecting CD to play while you gather dirty clothes.
* 2:45pm: Finally decide on CD Get laundry together.
* 3:00pm: Get laundry to laundromat. Feel faint surge of pride that it only took you two hours.
* 3:15pm: As you put your laundry into machine, realize that even you can no longer wear your favorite flannel shirt, which has two holes larger than the one you're supposed to put your head through. Then feel sentimental, as shirt has lasted longer than any relationship you've had. Then buck yourself up and remember that you're a grown adult now. Firmly resolve to throw shirt away next week.
* 3:30pm: Read 2 week-old New York Post in laundromat and pretend not to stare at marginally attractive woman doing her drying.
* 4:00pm: Decide laundry is "dry enough" and get out of there.
* 4:30pm: Realize grocery store is going to close in half an hour, and that you're really going to have to bust your ass to do shopping.
* 4:45pm: Decide that shopping can wait until after work tomorrow.
* 5:00pm: Go to bodega for beer, food. See bald, middle-aged guy browsing porn and thank your lucky stars you're not THAT guy.
* 5:20pm: Idly masturbate to MTV "Spring Break" show.
* 5:45pm: Find phone number of ex-girlfriend. Decide to call her, see how she's doing. Then remember that you already did that a couple of months ago and she never returned your call.
* 6:00pm: Rent movie. Counter girl smiles as she gives you your change, tells you to enjoy movie. Is she flirting with you? Decide not to risk never being able to show face in store by asking for her phone number.
* 6:15pm: Watch "Die Hard: With A Vengeance" for third time in past two months.
* 6:30pm: As movie unfolds, decide counter girl WAS flirting with you. Chastise yourself for dropping the ball.
* 8:30pm: Dinner. Find hamburgers in the back of the refrigerator. Try to remember when you made them. Sniff them, decide that a microwave will kill any germs. Side dish: Microwave popcorn.
* 9:00pm: Turn on TBS. "Die Hard: With A Vengeance" is starting. Watch it all the way through again, only now with commercials and bleeped language. Wonder what Bruce Willis has got that you don't.
* MIDNIGHT: Bed. Gratefulness that you have an office to go to tomorrow.

CONFIDENTIAL TO THE WOMAN ON QUEENS BOULEVARD TODAY WEARING A BLACK PAIR OF PANTS WITH THE WORD "BOOTYLICIOUS" WRITTEN ACROSS THE ASS IN LARGE RED GOTHIC LETTERING:
Sorry, but you shouldn't have been offended when the guy at the payphone whistled at you.
Especially since - and I don't want to be rude - your Booty is rather less than "Licious."

* * * *
This being the weekend, and the weather being nice, and me being a naturally lazy sod anyway, I am going to do a little "found comedy" here.
I'm reprinting some old poetry.

THE 1999 ROPER-STARCH POEM
This is a poem I found written in pencil on the back of an old calendar from a job I had, when I was doing market survey research over the phone for seven dollars an hour. It was a shitty job anyway, but making it worse was that my hours were kind of tough; Friday evenings, 12 hours straight on Saturday and then Sunday 10 - 4. You can imagine how happy folks are to hear from you all weekend.
Not to mention that it's a shitty company anyway (unless I end up working there again, heh heh).
The bottom of the calendar has the slogan: NO EXCUSES - JUST RESULTS. The kind of mind that thinks that inspires employees making barely above minimum wage is not the kind of mind you want to end up working for.
Was I unhappy? Just read this poem I wrote one day between phone calls:

"Untitled"
by Liam McEneaney

The night air cool, and sweet, and dry,
Oh sweet Lord Jesus, won't you let me die?
Or if not die, at least to sleep,
And let this hard and restless night pass?
I lie awake, to curse my wits and weep,
I wish this night just pass me by.

My tongue like lead, as my heart is broken,
Words rush my head and die unspoken.
I, so brave, to be taken afright,
Of such a fair and good-natured lass,
And lie awake to curse my night,
That trades my heart like cheap gem token.

Night without end, hour piled upon hour,
As my heart wilts like a desert flower,
My gut rolls in me like a boulder down a hill,
And as dawn breaks the endless dark plain,
Each minute a world of death and still,
I roll over, and face the dark dense night again.

I lie awake and curse my wit,
Regard the dark and rolling infinite.
The air cool and dry, like a baby's breath.
I lie awake and pray I might,
Find escape through the succor of death,
Or through dawn's passage from the deadly night.

* * *
LIAM'S ANALYSIS
Oof. This is like reading bad adolescent poetry (and believe me, I have a heavy backlog of THAT), only at the time I was 22 years old.
As I recall, there was a woman involved, who had indicated that she was interested in me, but on whom I was afraid of making a move (that's a whole other discussion), but overall this is just a pretty bad poem. If I'm allowed to retroactively title it, I'm gonna call it, "From A Bad Place." Because that's clearly where it comes from.
Some particularly bad imagery bears analysis:
* "Trades my heart like a cheap gem token" - Clearly influenced by the works of early Nintendo, particularly "The Legend of Zelda."
* "My heart wilts like a desert flower" - Desert flowers are some of the sturdiest plants in existence. Cactii are ideal plants for people like me, because you can forget to water them for two weeks and they'll live.
* "My gut rolls in me like a boulder down a hill" - That is just sheer poetry.

YOU CAN WIN AN AUTOGRAPHED COPY OF THIS POEM!
Just be an attractive woman who wants to make out with me. Entries can be sent to: McEneaneyL@aol.com
Just to qualify: You not only have to be an attractive woman willing to make out with me, you will only be presented with the poem upon completion of said "make-out session." Sorry kids, but I don't makes the rules, I just enforces them.

AMAZON.COM
According to Amazon, people who bought "The Anarchist's Cookbook" (a famous book from the '60s that details how to make bombs and cause havoc) also bought:
* "The 50 Greatest Cartoons : As Selected by 1,000 Animation Professionals" by Jerry Beck

CLASS CLOWN
I'm in comedy, but I was never the class clown.
I wanted to be, but the first time I tried, the other kids just made fun of my makeup and my big red shoes.
At least I didn't have it as bad as the kid who tried to be the class mime.

I AM HENRY THE VIII, I AM
Henry the VIII had six wives. Since the Catholic Church forbade him to divorce, he murdered his wives every time he got tired of them.
That was definitely more moral.
And I can understand why the first or second wife would marry him; after all, what's a little homicidal mania when you're about to marry the King of England?
But what was wife number four thinking? "I can definitely change him. Sure, he killed all those other women, but I'm different. People say he's a rabid maniac, but I've seen a different side to him. He's just a quirky guy with commitment issues."
Of course, wife number six was probably just riding the odds. "He'll be dead before I will. C'mon palace revolution. C'mon syphillis-infected mistress."

ROBERT BLAKE
Speaking of spousal murder (you see the theme of today's blogging?), I kind of like the Robert Blake case, because IT NEVER STOPS GETTING WEIRD. It's like, last year we find out he married a Lonely-Hearts scammer, then we find out that his alibi for not being on the murder scene was that he had to go back into the diner to get his gun, now we're finding out he tried to hire two stuntmen to kill his wife. It's like, even with O.J., there was a limit to the weird shit we discovered about his life, and it just became sad. With this case, we're just scratching the surface. I think it's only days before the LAPD discovers a rune-covered altar dedicated to the Aztec god Quetzlcoatl.

SLIM SHADY VS. SLIM GOODBODY
They have more in common than you might think.

SLIM GOODBODY: Host of children's health/exercise show.
SLIM SHADY: Releasing album titled "The Eminem Show," which will probably deal with childhood issues.

SLIM GOODBODY: Wears a bodysuit with his internal organs painted on the outside.
SLIM SHADY: Wears his heart on his sleeve, particularly when it comes to his love of murdering his wife.

SLIM GOODBODY: All about "working through the pain."
SLIM SHADY: All about "working through the painkillers."

SLIM GOODBODY: Gay and a minor celebrity.
SLIM SHADY: Well-known to the gay community.

SLIM GOODBODY: Exercises right.
SLIM SHADY: Exercises his rights.

SLIM GOODBODY: Fun for the whole family.
SLIM SHADY: Wants to murder his wife.

Finally:
SLIM SHADY: Yes, he's the real Shady, all the other Slim Shadies are just imitating.
SLIM GOODBODY: For the love of Christ, who's going to impersonate him?

BONUS!
SLIM SHADY VS. SLIM PICKENS

SLIM PICKENS: In the movie "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid," died in his wife's arms while the powerful song "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" played in the background.
SLIM SHADY: Has written several powerful songs concerning the death of his wife.

MY NEW PUNK ROCK NAME
My-T-Fine Biafra.

A FUN PRACTICAL JOKE (MTA CONSTRUCTION WORKERS ONLY)
If I was an MTA construction worker, and I had to do track work at some lonely hour like 3am, what I'd do is, I'd get a buddy and two high-intensity flashlights.
Then I'd wait until a bunch of people were waiting for the train. I'd turn the flashlights off and walk us up halfway up the tunnel. Then each of us would stand next to a rail, turn on our flashlights and start running down the tracks towards the platform.
Then I'd keep running past the passengers to see the looks on their faces when they realize that the train isn't coming, just two asshole MTA construction workers.

MY DRUNK FRIENDS
Do you have one of those friends who's so different when they're drunk that they offer you shit, but you know you have to wait to run it by their sober self?
I'm like, "Hmm, Drunk Katie offered to put me up at her place for three weeks when I come out to LA, but let's see what Sober Katie has to say about it. 'Go fuck myself?' Okay, that makes sense."

NEVER GONNA CHANGE
My whole goal in doing this is to someday be world-famous. But you hear about people who become famous and then turn into these horrible jerks, and everyone says, "Oh man, he chaaanged. He chaaanged. He used to be so cool. Now he's mowing people down in his Rolls."
I don't want that to happen to me, so I've decided that I'm going to change and become a horrible jerk right now.
I'm only going to talk to celebrities, I'm going to dump my loser friends, and I'm going to hire three large bodyguards with no neck to hold back strangers, even though they clearly have no desire to talk to me whatsoever.
Also, I would appreciate if you stop reading this Blog right now. I'M SERIOUS, WHY CAN'T YOU PEOPLE GIVE ME MY PRIVACY FOR ONE SECOND??!!!!

OLDIES STATION
When I was growing up, I used to listen to WCBS-FM, New York's Oldies' station.
For a while, I was into doo-wop, and so I would listen to "Don K. Reed's Doo-Wop Shop," Don K. Reed being a man with a degenerate's voice whose life was devoted to the preservation and spread of a music form whose popularity peaked some time in the mid-'50s.
I'm not poking fun at the guy; after all, I'm devoting my life to an art form whose popularity peaked around the same time hair metal did. I admire the fact that he can make a living from something that he loves.
The hilarious thing about the "Doo Wop Shop," though, was the fact that no matter when I turned on the show, he pretty much had the same guests; a group of four or five middle-aged guys from Long Island, guys with names like Vin, Chazz, or Irv.
They always had the same story, and that story pretty much started with, "Yeah, we were hanging in Frank's garage reminiscing about doo-wop music," and ended with, "So we're going to be performing the Montauk Outdoor Crafts Festival this Thursday."
I don't know if he still does the show. I hope so. It would be nice to know that somewhere out there in the wasteland known as New York radio, there's a little corner where people follow their quioxitic quest to follow their dream, even though they know fame and fortune are not to be found, but rather just the simple enjoyment of a forgotten harmony.

VERIZON
Is there any less effective advertising campaign than Verizon's "Can you hear me now?" guy?
I think the only one would have to be the Army's "HIGHER MORTALITY RATE THAN CANCER" campaign.

AMAZON
According to Amazon.com, customers who bought "Final Exit" (the How-To book on suicide) also bought:
"What Went Wrong: Western Impact and Middle Eastern Response" by Bernard Lewis

ROOM
I spent last night cleaning out my room. It's been a couple of years, so I found some neat stuff I forgot I had. Like Chandra Levy. Boy is my face red - I don't even remember bringing her home!

Heh heh.

HARDER
Cocaine's making a comeback. Why are people doing coke again? Don't they know it leads to harder stuff - like disco? Polyester? I've lost too many friends to '70s retro.

STORIES
I see these newspaper stories every winter about people who can't afford their electric bills, and the headline is always like, "CHOICE BETWEEN HEATING AND EATING."
I have a similar problem, but you won't see any articles about it. Mainly because there aren't too many words that rhyme with "drinking."
"CHOICE BETWEEN LIGHT AND FUNCTIONAL ALCOHOLISM"
I'm just kidding. It isn't really a problem. I can go without heating.

FRAILTY
I saw the movie "Frailty." It stars Bill Paxton as a father of two who wakes up and decides that God wants him to kill people.
It's also directed by Bill Paxton, which is cool, because it means he read the script and said, "Hey, there's a creepy, psycho side of me no one's ever seen before."
But he spends a lot of time in the movie saying, "God wants me to kill demons. My job is to kill demons that look like people."
I think that's awesome. That's so awesome that I've decided that I'm going to do that every time I'm stuck in a bad conversation:
"Liam, your mother and I think you should get a job." "I do have a job. My job is to kill demons."
Or if I get a telemarketing call: "Of course I'll transfer to your credit card. You'll need some info? Okay. My occupation? I kill demons. They look like people, but they're actually demons."
I don't think that would work with getting out of jury duty, though, because I live in New York:
"Mr. McEneaney, would you please state your occupation?"
"Certainly your honor, I kill demons."
"Great. You can sit between the crack dealer and the guy who thinks he's a plant."

Today I post some poetry. I've read this a couple of times onstage, and to answer the question I've fielded more than once; no, it isn't about me. It's more about every time I've seen some guy be a complete a-hole to a pretty lady, and I've thought, "Hey, I've got no girlfriend, but odds are god I'd be nicer to her than this lout. Enjoy

AFTER I BROKE UP WITH YOU:
A VALENTINE
by Liam McEneaney

After I broke up with you, I started thinking about you and me.
After I broke up with you, I started drinking to the way we used to be.

Do you remember? I do,
The way you owe me forty bucks.
I mean, no big deal, whenever you can get it to me is cool,
It's not like it bothers me or anything.
It's only forty bucks.
But still, you've owed it to me for a while now, and a little consideration would be nice.
All right, I won't bring it up again.

Now you say you think about me,
That you love me, and can not live without me.
But that's not what you were saying when I made all those jokes about wanting to have sex with your roommate.
Woman: Ficklety is thy name!
Come on now, honestly. If I thought for one second your roommate would actually be into me, do you really think i would have brought it up so many times?
No sense of humor, that's your problem.
Um, your roommate isn't into me, is she? Just, I know the way you girls talk.

You say it's the little things you're missing,
My little touches along the nape of your neck, my softest kissing.
And there are things I miss too,
Like that forty bucks I lent you.
I know I said I wouldn't bring it up, but I know how you forget the important things.
Like the time you said you'd pay my cable bill and then forgot after you had to go to the emergency room.
And I had to go without seeing that VH1 special on the Go-Gos.
You know how much I love the Go-Gos.

Seriously, I know that when I lent you the forty bucks, I may have used words like, "Keep it, it's yours, it's a gift, please take it I don't expect it back."
But honey, you have to know when I'm kidding.
This goes back to that whole "No Sense of Humor Thing" I was just talking about.
Like that time your sister accused me of making a drunken pass at her at your cousin's wedding,
And I told you she was a liar and that she was stealing money from your grandmother's purse for heroin,
And you didn't talk to her for eight months.
Well, of course I was just kidding.
Besides, I needed that money more than your grandmother did.
Your grandfather's insurance left her loaded.
I mean, how else was I going to pay for your birthday dinner? My job?
I can't believe you actually thought I had a job. Get real!
Vice-President of Finance at Goldman Sachs?
Honey, would the Vice President of Finance dress like this?

Where was I? Oh yeah, so you see why I needed that money for your birthday dinner.
And frankly, I was as surprised as you were that I ended up taking that money to Atlantic City and losing it all on blackjack.
It was real romantic the way you came and picked me up, and drove me back.

That's when the trouble began.
Your friends started putting ideas in your head,
Mean, awful ideas like "self-respect," and "you need a man who doesn't use you."
Frankly, I was as insulted as you were.
And so I had to dump you.
I can't be seeing someone who's weak enough to be swayed by the first trendy self-help idea that comes down the pike.
If I ever meet that Dr. Phil guy, I'm gonna punch him in the nose.

As I stand here among my belongings, which you are even now throwing out of your third-floor apartment window, I say this:
All right, but I'm only going to give you one last chance.


To give me my forty bucks back.

Today, I sent a letter to General Mills concerning their Satanic breakfast food, Frosted Lucky CHarms. Yes, I really sent this letter, andI'll post their response here when I get it.


General Mills, Inc.
P.O. Box 1113
Minneapolis, MN 55440

Dear Sirs;
My name is Liam McEneaney, and I am the President and Commanding General of the New York branch of Koncerned Khristians for Kwality. And I have been elected to head up our new “Kwality Patrol” program, providing community outreach for Koncerned Kristians on issues of concern.
Speaking General to General here (seeing as we both share the same honorary rank), I must express our concern over your “Lucky Magic Charms” Cereal, and your mascot, Lucky the Magic Leprechaun. Now, I realize that Lucky is meant to be a cute little character, but you can see our problem: you are using a black magic creature to sell cereal to kids! Just like the Harry Potter character, who seemed to be harmless, but upon closer inspection, was merely another tool used to sell kids on the idea of becoming witches and turning their backs on a healthy, self-respectful lifestyle.
Sure, your cereal is just a healthy mix of sugar and corn and starch, but it’s also teaching kids that it’s okay to live with magical items and ingest them. And that evil magical creatures like leprechauns are just friendly folks who want to serve you breakfast.
And your advertising tagline is: “It’s magically delicious!” But is it really some nebulous magic that makes your cereal delicious, or God’s gift of sugar, complex carbohydrates, and red and yellow food dye? I think you can see where I’m coming from here.
Therefore, we have a couple of suggestions for you to improve your product line and avoid spreading the Devil’s Word:
A)“Frosted Happy Smiles”: Yellow marshmallows shaped like happy smiley faces, red marshmallows shaped like a thumb’s up and blue marshmallows shaped like a cross!
B)“Pets Parts Parade”: Cereal with marshmallows shaped like the favorite parts of kids’ favorite animal; a dog’s head, a horse’s tail, a pig’s hoof.
C)“Boatmeal”: Crispy oatmeal shaped like boats.
Thank you for your attention to this most serious problem, and we look forward to seeing how you resolve this problem.

Yours in kwality kontrol,

Liam McEneaney

SOME BUSINESS:
My roommate is leaving me in June to live in sin with her boyfriend. If you don't smoke, don't "drink all day" (see the Blog entry for April 11th for more details), and are cool, drop me an e-mail at mceneaneyl@aol.com. I live in a rent-stabilized apartment, so it's fairl reasonable.

WHERE ARE YOU TONIGHT, SWEET MARIE ANTOINETTE?
Marie Antoinette was the Queen of France (wife of Louis the XVI) in 1789. The peasants revolted, and she and her husband got their heads lopped off via the newly-invented guillotine.
Seems that one of the things that Antoinette did that got the populace angry was, when someone told her the peasants had no bread, said, "Let them eat cake!"
Now, I remember hearing about that when I was a kid and thinking, "Why are they so angry? My parents almost never let me eat cake. If I was allowed to eat cake all the time, I would!" I thought it would be really cool to have a ham-and-cheese-on-chocolate cake sandwich.
Also, if you have the ingredients for cake, don't you also have the ingredients for bread? I mean, was there a French baker who was like, "But I had to make zee cake! You theenk I was going to let all thees frosting go to waste?"

By the way, do you like my subtle and nuanced characterization of a French accent? It's that kind of attention to building a character that makes a great writer/performer.

THESE ARE THE PEOPLE IN YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD
In my neighborhood, there are two strip clubs within walking distance; one is across Queens Boulevard from me and the other is a block and a half down the Boulevard. Their names are Goldfingers and Wiggles, which makes sense when you realize that my neighborhood as a high concentration of Bond characters living there.
I remember once, a few years ago, it had just stopped raining and I walked to the bus stop to take me into Manhattan. I t was across from Wiggles, and I saw that despite the rain, two cars had managed to catch fire right in front.
By the way, STRIP CLUBS ARE NOT OBVIOUS MAFIA FRONTS, in case you were wondering.

THE WEATHER
Jesus Christ! And my allergies!

LIAM VS. HONG KONG PHOOEY
Something I was thinking about was: Who is better, me, or cartoon superhero Hong Kong Phooey? It's a lot closer than you might think. Here's a point-by-point comparison:

1) Has style
LIAM: YES * * * * H.K. PHOOEY: YES
2) A groovy smile
LIAM: YES * * * * H.K. PHOOEY: YES
3) A bod that just won't stop
LIAM: YES * * * * H.K. PHOOEY: YES
4) When the going gets rough, he's super tough with his Hong Kong Phooey Chop
LIAM: NO * * * * H.K. PHOOEY: YES
5) Has appeared on basic cable
LIAM: YES * * * * H.K. PHOOEY: YES
6) Will write a sonnet for you if you ask
LIAM: YES * * * * H.K. PHOOEY: NO
7) Has been mistaken for Underdog
LIAM: NO * * * * H.K. PHOOEY: YES
8) Good at writing dirty jokes
LIAM: YES * * * * H.K. PHOOEY: NO
9) Also works as a janitor at a police station
LIAM: NO * * * * H.K. PHOOEY: YES
10) Fights crime in a maroon bathrobe and face mask
LIAM: YES * * * * H.K. PHOOEY: YES

Final Analysis: TOO CLOSE TO CALL!

STRIP CLUB
The other night I went to a strip club, because that's what my date wanted. True. She was like, "Do you want to go to a strip club?" And I said, "Sure. Because I was looking for a way to spend sixty bucks in twenty minutes. It's either that, or buy some blow. And I don't know a good blow dealer."
Of course I said, "Yes." There is no other answer when a woman asks you if you want to go to a strip club. It's like, a woman can say, "Hey you want to go to a strip club and then disembowel your mother?" And the correct answer is, "Sorry mom, but I've got a live one here. You had your chance to ruin my life, now it's time to let another woman have a crack at it."
So we went to the strip club - oops, I mean "Gentlemen's Club." Yeah, because a true gentleman opens a door for a woman, buys her flowers, and then stuffs dollar bills in her g-string while she dances in front of sixty drunken strangers. It's good to see chivalry isn't lost in this world.
I went in, and right away the fella at the door said, "Take off your hat!" Because I was wearing a hat. And I was thinking, "Look buddy, I realize that every Mafia front needs its standards upheld, but let's be honest; if I'm here to pay twenty bucks to some massage school dropout with dreams of a porn career so she'll take off her clothes and grind against my crotch while bad 80's hair metal blasts in the background - I think we can all afford to let our hair down."
But then I found out that tey also had refused to take the cap off of beer prices. Ten bucks for a beer, holy shit! Ten bucks for a beer! Do you know how many thirsty African children you can supply beer to for ten dollars? I hope that beer was sick, because I nursed the hell out of it. I was a regular Florence Nightingale with that beer.

IF YOU'RE WATCHING CONAN TONIGHT
And you happen to not blink, check me out in a sketch. I play a member of Conan's "Nerd Posse."

I know what you're saying: "What a second Liam; you, a nerd? When they find out what a horrible piece of miscasting that was, they're going too be soooo upset. You am barely believeable as a nerd!"
Or if you're not saying that, then I wish you would.

I was told by the wardrobe woman the day before shooting to bring in some "nerdy clothes" from home. So I brought in a couple of plaid shirts. The wardrobe guy looks at what I brought and then says, "Actually, I like what you've got on."
Ouch!
It's all good, though. He ended up giving me another shirt to wear anyway.

WHAT LIAM WEARS
I have Reeboks. They are the most comfortable sneaker I have ever worn, no lie. When I bought them, I had this horrible thought, "Oh dear, all those sweatshop kids."
But after a month and a half of my feet not hurting for the first time in years, all I can think is, "Damn, those little third world kids make a good sneaker! Maybe I can hirew some of those kids for seventy cents a day to do work around my apartment!"
And before you e-mail me and tell me that seventy cents a day is not enough to pay them, remember those commercials: it only takes ten cents a day to feed one of those kids. That's a clear sixty cents profit! And in that kind of economy, they're probably buying jet boats and land cruisers.

STEVE AUSTIN VS. JASON GIAMBI
Steve Austin was the Six Million Dollar Man; that's how much it cost to reconstruct his body with bionic parts.
Jason Giambi is the One Hundred and Twenty Million Dollar Man. That's how much it costs George Steinbrenner to have him play for the Yankees. This leads to the question:
"Is Jason Giambi worth 20 Steve Austins?"
Let's compare and contrast, shall we?

IS MADE OUT OF BIONIC PARTS:
AUSTIN: YES * * * * GIAMBI: NO

CAN RUN FASTER THAN A PICKUP TRUCK:
AUSTIN: YES * * * * GIAMBI: NO

CAN THROW OBJECTS OVER SEVERAL MILES:
AUSTIN: YES * * * * GIAMBI: NO

WAS ABLE TO MAKE A SINGLE AFTER A MERE WEEK OF PLAY:
AUSTIN: NO * * * * GIAMBI: YES

IS CAPABLE OF BRINGING THE YANKEES TO THE WORLD SERIES ALMOST SINGLE-HANDEDLY:
AUSTIN: YES * * * * GIAMBI: APPARENTLY NOT

GETS BOOED WHEN HE PLAYS IN NEW YORK
AUSTIN: NO * * * * * GIAMBI: YES

GOT CANCELLED AFTER HIS RATINGS STARTED TO GO DOWN:
AUSTIN: YES * * * * GIAMBI: STEINBRENNER "SUPPORTS HIM 100%"

YOU MEAN THE WAY STEINBRENNER SUPPORTED BILLY MARTIN "100%" ALL THOSE TIMES?
AUSTIN: EXACTLY * * * * GIAMBI: "HEY! I'M JUST IN A SLUMP!"

MY PREDICTION:
A nostalgia-fueled "Bionic Craze" will revive Austin's career this year.
Giambi will be gone by spring training 2003.

INTERNET HOAX STARTER KIT
Here's a fun idea: let's start an internet hoax! All you have to do is copy the "Crazy Laws" below the asterices, and then forward them to all of your friends in an email that says something like, "This is so funny cuz it is true! Pass it on to twenty friends or you will never B luvved!!!!"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
TEN CRAZY BUT TRUE LAWS
1) In 1953, Congress passed a law giving women the right to drive. Up until then, the closest they were allowed to the wheel were novelty "Backseat Driver’s Licenses."
2) In 1667, Dr. Steven Edgerton of London, England, discovered the spleen. He then filed at the local patent office for exclusive rights to the spleen and associated bodily functions. His fellow physicians could not experiment on, or publish articles about, the spleen until it fell into the public domain forty years after his death.
3) In Johnson City, Tennessee, the city council passed a statute outlawing public fornication. A wag wrote in ballpoint pen after the law, "Especially if it’s done wrong." The phrase was never removed, making Johnson the only city in the world where making love badly is illegal!
4) In 1987, Sacramento, California, voters wrote in the cartoon character "Garfield the Cat" as a candidate for State Senate. "Garfield" won by a landslide and served a full two-year term.
5) In Northern Ireland, "Cheez Whiz" is called "Cheez Sauze." Due to the thick Irish brogue, "Cheez Whiz" sounds like the word "Jesus," which grocers find offensive.
6) Under a law passed in 1857, every elected official in Manchester, England, must be a certified lifeguard.
7) Due to an old Hungarian folk tale that every pig has a woman’s soul, it is a misdemeanor in the city of Szolnok to swear in front of a swine.
8) It is illegal all throughout the South to tattoo someone on the face. This is because when he was seventeen, Willie Nelson (yes, the Willie Nelson) had an eye tattooed on his forehead while stoned. That's why he always wears bandannas or head-concealing hats.
9) From 1813 to 1821, dogs in Rhode Island had ¼ vote.
10) In order to get around strict environmental protection laws, the state of Ohio has classified all fish as "legal tender," and therefore not eligible for protection from the EPA. One fish is worth 1/100th of a penny.

I used to write for Joke-of-theDay.com. That training came in handy when I wrote this jokey-joke:
NOT THE WOMAN I MARRIED!
Old Joe was sitting at his local watering hole, looking depressed. Billy, the bartender, walked up and refilled his beer.
Billy, concerned for a long time customer, asked, "Hey Joe, what's wrong?"
Joe looked up. "It's Myrtle, my wife. She just ain't the woman I married."
"How so?" asked Billy.
"Well, when I first met her, she had a body that wouldn't quit."
Billy shook his head sympathetically. "And her body quit?"
"I'll say. Except her mouth. That still works overtime."
And then he shot himself in the face.

AOL CHAT ROOM THEATRE

WARNING: This is a little gross. One night I was bored, and being on America OnLine, decided to go into a chat room and screw with people's heads. I cut n' pasted the transcript, and posted it below.
A note: This is a sex chat room. It is also a Role Playing Game room, which means that everyone in there has assumed the identity of a character from the Dungeons and Dragons world. Any time you see ::Liam types this part of the sentence in between double colons running his fingers along the keys seductively:: it means the person is typing an action. what he or she is doing.
I am McEneaneyL. All chat is exactly as everyone typed it with typoes left in. I only rearranged the order somewhat for more comprehensible reading.
ENJOY!

OnlineHost: *** You are in "Arts and Entertainment - Rhydin Pleasure Tubs". ***
McEneaneyL: ::walks into the room::
McEneaneyL: ::nods to pleasure drones::
McEneaneyL: Hello all.
XAprilmoonX: ::walks over to a unoccupied tub slips off her shorts making a blue bikini completly visable
XAprilmoonX: ,and slide in to the tub::
XAprilmoonX: slides*
McEneaneyL: ::disrobes::
McEneaneyL: ::completely naked::
Golden Eyed Drow: * leans back against the side of the tub and chuckles as she glances about *
SharonLoganX: ::cupping her hands,she takes water in her hands and splashes it on her neck,letting it run over her covered breasts.The material soaking up the water::
McEneaneyL: Hello April
XAprilmoonX: hey....
McEneaneyL: What brings a girl like you into a place like this?
XAprilmoonX: i was bored....
McEneaneyL: Sorry to hear that. Care to join me in my tub?
McEneaneyL: ::takes a dump in his tub::
McEneaneyL: There's plenty of room, and it's warm.
XAprilmoonX: um..no im fine over here
Golden Eyed Drow: * she shakes her head a as she reaches into her pack she placed beside the tub and brings out her book of elven runes and begins to study it *
Arin Tirent: ::a sigh of relief from her breast as she walks into the steam
Arin Tirent: filled room, slow liesurly gait and the tail of that white robe
Arin Tirent: flying behind her, exposing lightly tanned smoothen legs::
AeNaRionRE: ::he sighed as he sat on the bench alone, waiting for someone to notice him::
McEneaneyL: ::eats his own feces::
AeNaRionRE: ::he looked about the room, glancing at everyone and a few tubs::
Jester26MN: :::hopes that's chocolate McEneaney is eating:::
McEneaneyL: You dont know what youre missing, babe.
XAprilmoonX: ::mutters:: i dont think i wanna know......
McEneaneyL: Hey Golden. What are you reading?
Jester26MN: ::::a tall handsome man enters the room, wearing a red fur cape...just for show:::
Jester26MN: ::::takes off his cape, revealing his chiseled torso, broad shoulders, muscled chest:::
Arin Tirent: ::a thin line skin patched with colors of a tropical sunset
Arin Tirent: where her bikini lies against her::
Golden Eyed Drow: * slides down in the tub untill the water reaches her chin as she continues to read her book*
Jester26MN: ::::thinking he looks quite dashing thank you very much:::
Veshara: ::she enters, her luscious lips curved in an innocent smile, her eyes blinking as she glances around::
XAprilmoonX: ::looks over to Jester, then leans back in her tub and closes her eyes::
MimiTachikawa17: ::walks in in a blue bikini with sparkles on it::
McEneaneyL: ::soaps up, letting his loofah sponge run over his chiselled muscles::
Jester26MN: :::sees Veshara enter, appreaching her luscious lips in a not that innocent smile:::
AeNaRionRE: ::he smiled at Veshra as she entered, he sat on the bench::
McEneaneyL: ::begins masturbating::
McEneaneyL: HI VESHARA!!!
SharonLoganX: ::::watches the room with her green eyes::
Veshara: <>
McEneaneyL: Veshara, wait!!!
MimiTachikawa17: ::walks to an empty tub::
McEneaneyL: Hi Mimi
Lrd Pyrne: (::Just... Sits here and observes::)
MimiTachikawa17: hey
MimiTachikawa17: ::slides inside::
Arin Tirent: ::as she passes a the pegs on the wall, that robe is shrugged
Arin Tirent: off and tossed carelessly onto one, lushous curves in all the
Arin Tirent: right places, and her hips sway gracefully with the movement
Arin Tirent: of those long legs::
McEneaneyL: ::his golden locks drape to his elven face, creating a soggy halo::
Jester26MN: :::notes Arin's long luscious legs and womanly hips::::
AeNaRionRE: ::he turned his head and looked to Arin and smiled to her, hoping to catch her gaze::
Jester26MN: ::::wondering where the ice water is at::::suddenly needing to chew ice:::
McEneaneyL: ::waves his 18 inch penis at Arin::
McEneaneyL: Hey Arin
Golden Eyed Drow: * tries not to laugh at all the men in the room with their mouths dropped open as they stare at all the girls who walk in the door.. then goes back to reading her book*
McEneaneyL: Check this out
AeNaRionRE: ::he aproached Arin with a light smile:: Hello
McEneaneyL: ::begins sucking his own 18 inch penis::
Arin Tirent: ::long dark lashes fell over those oceanic blues not once,
Arin Tirent: but twice as she smiled to the patrons of the room::
SharonLoganX: ::shakes her head slowly at the spectacle::
Lrd Pyrne: ::A somewhat shaky entrance was made by him as he weaved bacd forth through the doorway, dan
SharonLoganX: ::pushes her hair back,layes her head on her hair as a pillow::
AeNaRionRE: ::he stood before Arin:: How are you m'lady?
Arin Tirent: ::a bemused glance at the poor guy fiddling with his dick and then she retied the thin strings on one hip::
McEneaneyL: ::stands up, walks over to Golden::
Lrd Pyrne: gerously unbalanced.. Legs meanding in either direction, he manages to dazedly take up a sea
Arin Tirent: very well and ye m'lord?
BlueMist713: ::and she made her way to the door, kneeling slowly:: May this slave girl enter?
Lrd Pyrne: t on the edge of a tub, shaking his head with a small sigh:: Come in.
McEneaneyL: ::slaps Golden in the face with his 18 inch penis::
Jester26MN: ::::takes out his rubber duckie at his hip::::
AeNaRionRE: ::he sighs:: not to well I suppose
McEneaneyL: You like that, Golden?
Jester26MN: Says to BlueMist. Hey...slave girl. You may enter but come over here!
Jester26MN: :::waving her over:::
SharonLoganX: ::looks at Lrd:;
Golden Eyed Drow: * looks up from her book as she is slapped and chuckles* maybe if it was a little bit
Golden Eyed Drow: bigger .. *goes back to reading her book*
Arin Tirent: oh, whys that? ::her attentions switched to the other hip
Arin Tirent: making sure those were also secured::
McEneaneyL: ::jumps into tub with Golden::
BlueMist713: ::she looked to jester, making her way over to him::
McEneaneyL: ::puts his arm around Golden, throwing her book into the water::
AeNaRionRE: I have been lonely all night
Jester26MN: :::smiles up to her:::: So are you anyone's particular slave girl?
Lrd Pyrne: ::A msall mutter as arms were raised above his head and fingers locked together, the joints
Jester26MN: Because I have been looking for a slave girl for a while now.
BlueMist713: No.. My lord.
Lrd Pyrne: popping audibly as he groaned nuder his breath::
Lrd Pyrne: *Small
Jester26MN: (i.e. since birth)
Jester26MN: MmmmHmmm. Well why don't you jump in and begin your duties by giving me a back massage.
Golden Eyed Drow: * looks to the one who seems to have made himself at home in her tub * can I help you with something
McEneaneyL: Golden, let's "do it"
XAprilmoonX: ::adjusts the top off her blue bikini::
McEneaneyL: And I mean that in the Biblical sense
Arin Tirent: oh, im sorry ::her gaze wandered to the open tubs::
McEneaneyL: April, you can join us
McEneaneyL: ::urinates::
XAprilmoonX: not if you payed me
BlueMist713: ... ::she nodded::
Golden Eyed Drow: * lokos at him and bust out laughing* not if your life depended on it .. Now get out of my tub
XAprilmoonX: net even if you payed me*
Arin Tirent: ::laughs::
Golden Eyed Drow: looks*
XAprilmoonX: not**
McEneaneyL: ::Farts, creating his own personal jacuzzi.::
AeNaRionRE: ::he laughs lightly:: yes you, you seemed like a you would be a pleasure for company
McEneaneyL: ::the smell of his personal jacuzzi wafts over the room::
XAprilmoonX: ::looks away and closes her eyes::
McEneaneyL: So APril
Arin Tirent: ::shrugs as it still is and moves to dip a toe into the water::
XAprilmoonX: dont talk to mr
XAprilmoonX: me*
AeNaRionRE: My name is Isaac by the way :;he bows his head in respect::
Arin Tirent: hmm can tell that just by looks?
McEneaneyL: Do you enjoy "doing it"?
Golden Eyed Drow: * grabs her things and hopps out of her tub and moves to another one not carring if it has anyone in it or not *
MimiTachikawa17: ::closes her eyes::
Arin Tirent: a pleasure Isaac...I am Airianna
McEneaneyL: My name is Lord Leppy
Crimson Chimera: ::a red-skinned chimera enters and moves into the shadows, as per usual::
XAprilmoonX: good for you
SSC McCAFF: ::Slides into a nearby tub::
McEneaneyL: ::urinates on the chimera::
Jester26MN: :::looking up as Sharon stands, admining her bikini -- more to the point...her body dripping with water:::
Lrd Pyrne: ::A glance right and a glance left before he pushes away from the tub he'd been leaning agai
AeNaRionRE: ::he raises a brow:: that is a lovely name you have
SharonLoganX: ::steps out,grabbing a towel::
Katala Aarym: ::braides her long brown hair, a few strands fall beside her eyes::
McEneaneyL: ::gets out of the tub, walks over to April::
Katala Aarym: :;she walks out::
MimiTachikawa17: ::sighs::
McEneaneyL: ::gives her a big hug::

# posted by Liam @ 4:14:00 PM

BLOG BUSINESS
Just added my high school chum Evan Sterling Silverman (yes, that's his real name) to my links. He's in a kickass band called The Rosenbergs.

BOB DYLAN
I belong to a Bob Dylan Fantasy Pool; we bet on what the set lists in each concert tour is going to consist of. Winners receive bootleg concert CDs.
The Dylan Pool recently printed up official t-shirts, and I now own one. It has a stll from the famous cue-card sequence in "Don't Look Back," with the words "Dylan Pool" in the cue cards.
Before you call me dorky, let me explain something. When I was thirteen, I could identify any "Star Trek" or "Dr. Who" episode after watching it for about two minutes. Not only that, but I had memorized "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," and in the fifth grade I did a book report on Douglas Adams' "So Long and Thanks For All The Fish" (I was probably the only person who did a report on a book that contained the word "fuck" and scenes of "fucking." We were supposed to illustrate, comic book style, a scene from the book. I illustrated the final scene where our heroes discover God's final message to the uNiverse. At the time, she seemed to find that slightly distasteful, and I didn't understand why).
So, A) I have earned my dork credentials.
And more importantly, B) This Dylan pool thing? It's the least dorky thing I've ever become involved with.
If you're curious, it's at http://pool.dylantree.com

CHRISTINA RICCI
In my public library branch, there's an old poster trying to promote literacy among young people. It's rather strange, in that it's a picture of Christina Ricci in a Catholic school uniform (yes, with a red plaid skirt), on a dark street corner, clutching a copy of Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead."(!)
This is a kind of weird message to be sending to the young people - "Yeah baby, open that book. No open it wider. Uh huh, you know you like it, look at the way you're dressed."
It's kind of like, "Read a book, become a hooker!"
(I'm trying to come up with a classy books on tape/oral joke.)

HEY WHITE PEOPLE
Let's get with it people, it isn't 1997 any more. Here are some words and phrases you should stop using already:
* "Dissed!" or "Dissed and dismissed!"
* "Talk to the hand"
* "tha hood"
* "tha" anything
* "homey," homeboy," or any variation thereof
* "Word up!"
* "dope"
* "Yo!"
* "ho" or "hos"
* "OPP"
* "dawg"
* "Raise the roof!"
* "Tawana told the truth!"

However, I do have some new street slang you're allowed to pick up on:
* "babydaddy"
* "let's bounce"
* "sniper bait"
* "bottle trout"
* "punkin' pie"
* "rage clock"
* "cocktail straw"
* "slingin' buttered biscuit"
* "crippled dingo"
* "plate money"
* "hot plastic pocket pussy"

Remember: Ironic racism is racism with a smile!

I WROTE A PROTEST SONG!

"Please Stop Singing"
by Liam McEneaney

Won't you please stop singing,
Before I kick your head in,
'Til your ears start ringing,
And you're all bed-ridden.

Then three large men will be hired,
For your crippled body to pee on.
You're supposed to be retired,
So please stop singing, Celine Dion.

(copyright McEneaney 2002)

ONE THING I LIKE TO DO
I like to go to the Self-Help section of a bookstore and find books like "Seven Habits of Highly Effective People." Then I slip in a piece of paper that reads, "This is the biggest waste of time and money ever. - Signed, the author." Or I find a book like "Smart Women, Stupid Choices," and I slip in a piece of paper that reads, "Way to make the worst book-buying decision of your life, dummy."

DIDJA EVER
Did you ever wake up in the morning, and something stinks in your apartment, so you wander around looking for an hour, and it's getting stronger, and the smell is awful, and you realize, "Oh it's me."?
Um, me either.

I HATE MY UPSTAIRS NEIGHBOR
He and I have differences of opinion. Like for instance, I feel he should let the super in when a pipe breaks in his bathroom, causing my bathroom ceiling to collapse. He feels it's appropriate to wait until the Fire Department has to break in (that's true!).
The only person I hate worse is his upstairs neighbor on the sixth floor. He's one of those big dumb guys with huge bulging muscles, and a big dog that he doesn't clean up after, and he doesn't always feel he has to keep on a leash.
So I decided to kill two birds with one stone. One day, I slipped a note under the door of the sixth-floor guy that said, "Hey asshole. If I ever catch you not cleaning up after your shitty dog's shitting shit, I will kick your ass so hard you'll be seeing Friday on Sunday, you big dumb piece of shit. Get cancer and die, sincerely, your downstairs neighbor."

DIALOGUE FROM A MOVIE I MAY NEVER WRITE:

CHUCK: I'm here to break hearts - and hymens.

I like this "writing for a website daily" thing, which is ironic because I used to write daily for a website professionally. It was a humor service, and I don't want to say which one, but let's just say we sent out a joke every day. I hated that job.
The management there were all jackasses. At Christmastime they gave every employee an envelope with a pink piece of paper. Every employee thought they were getting pink slipped - turned out it was a "funny" way of giving us our Christmas bonuses (bonii)?
The bonus? Stock options. Yes, our big bonus was the chance to invest our money in the company should it ever go public (it didn't).

I saw a hand-written sign up in Williamsburg, Brooklyn last night. It was someone looking for a roommate in Greenpoint, to move in on May 1st.
The sign read, "I am a female, 27 year-old filmmaker/musician/artist." THat sign should read honestly, either, "I am a temp-to-permanent," or, "I HAVE A TRUST FUND!"
"You will also be sharing the apartment with a 35 year-old dog." In other words, "I am the kind of person who treats their pet like a person. The dog will have more rights than you."
Then it went into a whole list of who she didn't want to live with - no smokers, no negative people, and "If you like to drink all day, it's not going to work out." If you like to drin kall day, your roommate situation not working out is the least of your life problems. If you're at the point in your life where you can honestly say, "Hey, I drink all day, better not answer this ad," then there's a lot in your life not working out.
How would that interview go? "You smoke?" "Nope." "Are you negative?" "Nuh-uh, no way. I hate negative people and wish they would die."
"Okay. You drink?" "On occasion - the occasion being that I just woke up. I ususally drink from sunup to sundown, then I vomit and pass out." "Ooh, i'll let you know."
Something tells me she's going to be a lot less picky come June. "You only shoot heroin on your lunch hour? Okay, but you have to promise that you'll stop kicking my dog."
But the capper was the picture she drew of herself, Junior HIgh School style, in a magician's outfit. Just say, hope she's leaning on the filmmaker/musician aspect of her drems.
But that picture's cool, 'cause it says, "I'm not just a 27 year-old temp; I am also magically the biggest nightmare you will ever live with."

I actually wish I'd called her now, just to interview. Just so I could sit in her living room and say, "Yeah, don't worry, I drink 'til noon, then I take a four hour nap."

People say that the Jews have all the money. The Jews don't have all the money. Bill Gates has all the money. Oprah has all the money. The Waltons, the family that owns WalMart? They literally have all the money. Jews don't own WalMart. They don't even shop at WalMart. Until you walk into WalMart and see a knockoff yarmulke section, the Jews don't have all the money. Until Oprah's Book Club spotlights the Torah, the Jews don't have all the money. Although Bill Gates might be Jewish. My Windows stops working every Saturday at sundown.

If you like this blog, why not tell a friend? And if you don't like this Blog, why not tell an enemy? Because if you don't like me, then I'll probably get along with someone who doesn't like you.

MY MEETING-EMILIO-ESTEVEZ STORY
Everyone's got one. Mine occurred in, I believe, 1994, right after "National Lampoon's Loaded Weapon 1" came out. I had gone to see it, and had felt disappointed, which is quite something considering the low expectations I had gone in with. Anyway, I was camped outside 30 Rock* waiting for SNL** tickets. Pearl Jam was the musical guest.
So it's Friday night, and Emilio Estevez, the host for that week, showed up. I walked up to him and said, "Mr. Estevez, I just saw 'Loaded Weapon 1.' Can I have my money back?"
He gave me a tight smile and walked past me. What a snob! Look who forgot about his fans!

Actually, now that I'm a celebrity***, I totally understand how rude I was.
Maybe I'm not a celebrity, but I have been recognized on the street twice now. The first time I was on the street, coming home from the gym. I had grown a beard+, and I was sweating and smelling bad. I'm kind of the Vincent "The Chin" Gigante of my neighborhood. Anyway, a new mother pushing a stroller stopped me and said, "You're the guy from TV, right?"
I fucked her.

I love giving gift certificates. They let your friends know, to the exact dollar amount, what they mean to you.
"Hey Chris, you're worth twenty-five dollars in CDs from Tower Records to me. You're a one-and-a-half CD friend."
I also like giving them to my enemies. What I do is I give them a gift certificate that's just enough that they want to use it, but just small enough that they still have to spend their own money."
The look on their face is priceless: "Oh, look, an eight dollar gift certificate to the Virgin Megastore. That can buy me half of that new Jay-Z album. I guess I'll kick in the other eight myself, you jackass."

I have a friend who asks rhetorical questions all the time. The problem is that all of his rhetorical questions have answers no one wants to hear.
He's like, "You know who's hot? Disney's The Little Mermaid. Oh, I know she's got no legs - but I'd still do her."
"You know who's getting rich? Those orphans on TV. Think about it, if two million people sent you sixty cents a day, you'd be living on Park Avenue right now!"
"You know the only thing worse than having a hernia operation?" Yeah, having to hear about it.
Then there's people who end a sentence by trying to build a consensus: "But then again, who hasn't gone drunk-driving and killed a busload of nuns?"
Um, everyone, you jackass.

I hope Erin finished her 20-page paper last night

Liam M.

* "Industry" slang for 30 Rockefeller Plaza, where NBC's shows are taped
** "Industry" slang, short for Saturday Night Live
*** "Industry" slang, meaning "famous person"
+ If you've ever seen my sad attempts at growing a beard, you'll know that the word "beard" is a bold overstatement

Things To Not Say On The First Date #472
"I thought I told you to wait in the car."

I was walking down Broadway just now, saw a guy in a tie-dyed t-shirt and one of those rainbow knitted Rasta hats that white potheads wear. He was slumped on the curb, with a pigeon perched on the back of his neck. Just kind of sitting there doing nothing. The guy shifted, and the pigeon flapped its wings but didn't bother to fly away. More on this as I think of a way to make it funny.

I bought a 20 pound bag of rice. Why? Because it was only three dollars. I thought, "Okay, twenty pounds isn't that much rice." But then I made two cups of rice. Do you know how much rice is in two cups? About six weeks' worth. What I'm saying is, if you know any third-world countries, invite 'em over to my place. My room is such a mess, the UN may declare it an international emergency. If it does, I'll be ready to feed refugees.

A lot of groups are "reclaiming" words; gay people are calling themselves "queers," black people are using the "N-word," there's a magazine for Jews called "Hebe."
I was thinking it's high time for white people to reclaim a word. Unfortunately, there aren't too many derogatory words for white people - by which I mean, there are, but it's never bothered us. White peopel find those words funny:
"Hey cracker!" Ho ho ho, yes, we are crackers."
"I'm talkin' to you honky!" "Yes, we are honkies. And don't forget white devils!"
So we're going to have to do what we've always done; take someone else's word. I think we should take the word "Redskin." I mean, we've taken everything else from the American Indian, why not their horribly derogatory nicknames?
You know what I'm saying, my savage brothers?

Speaking of things you should never say, the other day I called a woman a "cunt." This isn't something I'm proud of, I didn't want to, but she really provoked me (trust me, it's not a word I like to use, but there was no other way to describe her at the time).
But she startled me. She got really mad, and started screaming, "You don't know me! You don't know me!"
So what was she saying? That if I knew her better, she wouldn't mind if I called her a cunt? That that's a term of affection by her really close friends?
Maybe she was trying to say, "You have no idea what a cunt I am. Just get to know me better, that's when I start acting really cunty."
Maybe she was really surprised, and she was trying to say, "How did you know my childhood nickname? That's what my daddy used to call me."
You're saying, "Why call her a cunt at all?" The answer is: Because the word "bitch" has somehow become a term of affection, and I need something with a little more "pizazz." That's right, women have reclaimed the word "bitch." (See how this all comes full-circle?)

My mom has just resolved to never read this Blog again.

Send an angry e-mail to: McEneaneyL@aol.com

Greetings and vilkommen as the Germans would say. This is my blogger and get ready, because Liam McEneaney has fifty thousand volts to blog you harder!

I guess I'll open my blog with one of those embarassing-yet-true stories that all of us in this crazy city (indulgent chuckle) live with every day.

Seems I was walking down the street the other day, heading towards my favorite Lower East Side bodega, when a street person approached me and asked if I had any spare change "for food." I told him no, because I was sure he was going to buy crack with it. He told me, "Serious, man, I ain't eaten in three days and my teeth is falling out."

Well, you can imagine how embarassed I was when he watched me go up to that bodega, after telling him I had no money, and buy crack from the guy who hangs out in front. I felt so bad that, as I was walking away with the crack, I felt obligated to share some with him.

This is why people shouldn't be encouraged to post whatever they want on the Web.

I was going to see "Death to Smoochy" last week with my friend, the talented comedienne Val Kappa. Unfortunately, I read the theatre wrong in the paper, and the only movie showing next was "In the Bedroom." Snooorrre.

I saw the Panic Room last week with my friend, talented comedienne Tami Vernekoff (I still owe her ten bucks for that). It was an okay B-picture; if Warner Brothers had made it in the thirties, it would have cost thirty grand, starred an up-and-coming actress, and played on a double-feature with an Errol Flynn movie. As it is, it looks like someone at a movie studio accidentally green-lighted a Lifetime woman-in-jeopardy flick. Seriously, the movie was a twenty-million dollar budget away from starring Meredith Baxter.

Dwight Yoakum played the part of a psycho like he was hoping that halfway through the movie, Gepetto would turn him into a real little boy. Usually you find something that wooden with letters and numbers painted on the side, jammed in the toothless mouth of a two year-old.

The direction was pretty cool, although there were so many CGI effects that I expected Jar-Jar to show up. At one point, the director used the magic of digital technology to give an extreme close-up of grout. Grout! And I'm not talking a split-second transition from one scene to another, I mean a full-on ten second reaction shot from the wall. It was weird.

But it was suspenseful. Although the biggest suspense was trying to figure out when the baby that some dumb baby-factory bitch brought to see an R-rated scary movie would start crying (two minutes in). Don't bring your baby to the movies, don't bring your baby to the movies, don't bring your baby to the movies. I cannot emphasize that enough.

All right. I'll be back some other time.

Liam M.