Be careful out there...

Story of the month:

I have two friends, Tim and Tong, who are roommates. They live in the neighborhood where Tim and I grew up. It's a relatively working-class neighborhood of mostly Irish and Italians, stuck incongruously in the middle of a pretty well-to-do town that's mostly wealthy and Jewish. Anyway, they both go to Joe's Barbershop, the old Italian neighborhood guy I used to go to as a kid.


Note: Not the same Joe's. There are probably 10 million Joe's Barber Shops in America.

So a couple weeks ago, Tong goes to Joe's to get a haircut. Like many old-school barbers, the place is tiny, smells like shaving cream and old Italian man, and is full of old guys, many of whom aren't even there to get a haircut. It's just where they hang out. I've always loved Joe's. But then... well... things get weird. Tong is sitting in the chair, getting his cut, and overhears Joe talking to a couple of the other old timers. I'll translate, as Joe's accent is so thick, it's sometimes impenetrable.

Joe: It's just not safe anymore.
Old Italian Guy #1: I know, I know
Joe: The black guys, you can't even walk around at night anymore!
Old Italian Guy #2: I know! It's gettin' so dangerous I don't want to leave the house.
Joe: The black guys - you just hafta be careful.
OIG#1: Too true, too true. The black guys, you're right. It's not safe.

Now Tong, who is Chinese, is sitting there stunned. I mean, they're being so damn blatant about it. And they're going on and on about how the black guys are dangerous, how you can't go out at night anymore. I'm getting furious listening to the story. I mean, these guys used to cut my hair when I was a kid, and I had no idea they were such vicious racists. I mean, who knew a trip to the barber would turn into a Klan rally? And they just. keep. going.

Joe: What are you supposed to do? You hafta be so careful.
OIG#2: The black guys... I don't know. I don't want the wife to get hurt, you know?
Joe: Ya, that's right. You worry about the women, the little ones, with the black guys. What if they fall?

Huh? All of a sudden, just as he's about to stand up in outrage, Tong gets it.

It's not the black guys.

It's the black ice. The black ice is dangerous. The black ice is not safe. Remember the great Valentine's Day storm, where New England got covered in ice? Yeah. That's what they were talking about.



This is how wars get started, people.

Today will be a day that shall live in infamy

Well, my own personal infamy, anyway. It's been a low-key weekend... I went out to dinner with Mrs. TK on Friday night, to a lovely little restaurant in Dedham, MA called Isabella. Good food. Cute place. The table next to me was a horror show. It was a woman and her very elderly mother, and the entire conversation was about the elderly woman's future, or lack thereof. It was brutal, and much louder than it should have been. At one point, we overheard the daughter say, "Mom, we have two kids in college... we can't afford to find you a place to live until you die."

Sweet Jesus. Some fuckin' people. I can't imagine ever saying something like that to my mom. I wanted to punch the bitch.

Anyway. Saturday the wife left for work. She's doing two straight overnights, so she usually doesn't come home at all. Which means I live like a dog for two days. Yesterday I had what can only be called a video game bender, where I played PS2 for about 10 hours. I'm now trying to re-learn how to blink. Dork-out! During that time, Audrey the Beagle took it upon herself to grab a couple of cardboard boxes and chew them into teeny-tiny bite-sized pieces in my study. When I found the wreckage, she pranced around it with that "Look! Look what I did! Isn't it great!?" look. Meanwhile, Ceili the Wonder Dog is looking at me like Jay from The 40 Year Old Virgin: "I don't hang out with him! I work with him, and that's it! I tried to introduce him to a few nice people, and he made a fool of himself. I don't mess with him baby. That's not me."

Today is the infamous day. The Patriots play the Chargers in a game I'm terrified to watch. But I will. And then afterwards, I'll either celebrate or console myself with a friend of mine at some dirt-hole bar, since it is his birthday. We both have the day off tomorrow, which means things will get ugly. While many of my friends are smart, sophisticated people, this particular one is not. I love him to death, but he's a borderline degenerate. It will be a raucous evening of Miller Hi-Life and Rye Whiskey. Welcome to Hangovertown - population: me.

To keep this post from being too dull, here's one of my current favorite songs. "Alive With the Glory of Love" by Say Anything. Sure, they're a little derivative, but who isn't these days?



Anyway, that's all I got for now. I'm trying to think of something neat to write about tomorrow. Any ideas? Let's drink about it.