A Summarized Story as Told by Jack Yesterday at Lunch:
“Have you seen Jimmy’s new joke? Jimmy has this letter written by a man whose wife ran off unexpectedly. In the letter he begs his wife to return to him. She writes back saying she won’t be coming home as she is in Borneo and has found happiness and sends him a photo for proof. The picture shows her wrapped around a native with a schlong this big (gestures a size of about two feet long).

So Jimmy has been running around the office showing everyone this joke. Can you believe that? In the office!? I mean, how juvenile! Grow up! But what I really want to know is, how did Jimmy get a picture of my di*k?”

I’m lunching with Jack again today. O, what new quotes await me? We shall see.

…

Lunch was great. I still can’t wipe the grin off my face. Duck steak, chicken schnitzel and chopped prime rib at Shelly’s. Jack couldn’t stop talking about the Borneo photo and how hard it is to walk around with a horse-sized co*k. He gave us this little gem as we bundled up in our coats:

“So this Goyam walks into Saks and asks, ‘How much for the coat?’ The salesman says, ‘$1,500.’ The Goy says, ‘I’ll take it!'” Jack then laughed so hard his face turned pink. Hard to believe he’s 57 years old.

Lunch at the Sea Grill today with three co-workers. Greens for $10; two crabcakes for $32. Classy. Yummy. Beautiful. Seated at a four-top. Jack takes a seat facing the ice skating rink. Later complains, “This seat sucks.” I remark at how surprised I was that he had chosen that seat in the first place.

His reply, “I wanted to face the big, gold, naked guy. Goldmember.”

“Prometheus,” I inform him flatly.

Later a child starts getting cranky nearby. Jack demands, “Shut the fu*k up. Who brings kids to the Sea Grill?” I tell him of Dim Sum Go Go and he wonders if I’ve ever been to Sum Dum Goy which evokes a big guffaw from deep within his belly. All along, several women parade to the Ladies Room past our table and back again. Finally no longer able to keep shut, he asks “Have you seen the asses on these women? Jesus! I bet they all have their own zip codes.”

And he wonders why I didn’t invite him to Sheila’s party.

My friend Sheila hosted one of her infamous soirees at her showroom for this welcomed event. Her friend Veronica, owner of Dim Sum Go Go in Chinatown, was kind enough to cater the affair. Can I just say, Dim Sum Yum Yum?

In keeping with my true character, I made a few new friends. One of which is traveling to Morocco this February and has invited me to join the group. Umm, yeah, count me in! Then there was Mike, a reporter for the New York Times. He didn’t laugh at anything I did or said, so I quickly decided I hated him for infinity plus one, but if I ever need a contact at the Times I might forgive him.

Finally, I re-met Beth. She is a photo-journalist for the Associated Press whom I originally met this past summer at Sheila’s rooftop luau which was complete with grass skirts, coconut bikini tops and an inflatable pool. Beth’s husband Pancho hails from Chile and is also a reporter for the Times. Beth not only makes a killer batch of guacamole, she lived with a group of female gang members in Florida for six months as part of report. Beth Rulez! I think I’m going to go through initiation so she’ll have to talk to me again. I’m just not sure about that whole gang bang thing.

So um, yeah, happy new year and Rams are cool.

Bipolar Disorder Defined
I’ve endured two days of screaming, ranting and raving (no exaggeration, I promise you) from Bossman about a chipped piece of furniture and some other really petty problems with our office move. Granted we only moved one floor so not much should have been a problem, but still, what’s with all that anger? Dude, relax. Around 5:00 today, he came out of his office all sing songy and whistling showtunes like he does, sidles up to me and says, “So, all in all it was a pretty smooth move.”

Either he’s bipolar or that valium I slipped in his afternoon coffee was just what the doctor ordered.

I had a crappy day. Not the worst in history seeing as how I incurred no bodily harm and didn’t get arrested; but, crappy nonetheless, and the night’s still young. It was stupid stuff, like my boss yelling at everyone, including me, which never happens. Yell at me, that is. He always yells at other people. All day. Every day. He hates Mondays more than anyone I know, and a Tuesday after a holiday might as well be the apocalypse. Since I love math problems, I present an equation:

1 day of work + 1 yelling boss + 1 man dressed like Statue of Liberty hounding me 3 separate times = 4 miles of walking in -30 degree wind chill factor + 1 bad day.

I just wanted to slice somebody open. That is, until I got this.

Yesterday was the last day for Deborah and friends to be in New York City. We met at the Duplex to see my friend Robby pound out the tunes on the piano and had a great time. Sunday night at the Duplex is show your underwear night, so everyone was asked to drop trou. Russell and Tom, extremely –nay, devoutly– heterosexual males, were great sports and gave all the gay males something to write home about. Russell was waiter and singer Kurt’s boy toy for much of the evening–this will be one image hard to erase.

Gospel of Jack 12:9
Today is my first day back in the office since last Wednesday. Jack screamed my name in agony and I answered, “Yes?” He replied, “THANK GOD YOU’RE BACK! Never in my whole life did I think I would be this happy to see one woman.”

Not one to pass up an opportunity during someone’s weak moment, I asked for a raise, a fur coat and an extra week vacation. I guess he forgives me as he informed me of my stellar annual review. Whew!

Later last night, Deborah and company went on to see “Rent” while I made my way to Siberia Bar. This place is a dive bar that used to be located in the subway station at 50th and Broadway (the only bar ever in New York’s history to have been located in the subway), but was recently booted by the Rockefeller Group. I made my way downstairs and plopped down on a very low, dirty couch to pass the time till my friends were out of their show.

There weren’t many people there so when Anthony Bourdain walk in with Tracy Westmoreland, owner of Siberia Bar, I immediately noticed. I threw all proper etiquette aside. This was going to be my exception to my rule of never asking for an autograph. I borrowed a pen and pulled out one of my business cards. I went up to the bar and ordered a Red Stripe, turned around and faced Anthony. I stuck out my hand which he immediately took in his and shook heartily. Here’s a summary of our conversation which was rather high energy and fast paced.

Me: “Hi, my name is Kambri, and I apologize for disturbing you. I have never asked anyone for an autograph, but I MUST ask you for my friend’s sake. He’s read every one of your books, he’s never missed any of your shows and we have you programmed in TiVo. He’s obssessed with you. In fact, I think he’s gay.”
(Hey, Marc wasn’t there, so it’s not like he would ever know, right?)
Anthony Bourdain: Smiling big and chuckling, “Hey Kambri…sure! Got a pen? What’s his name?”
Me: “It’s Marc with a “C” cuz he’s Jewish. He prepared monkfish tonight, how would you have prepared it?”
Anthony Bourdain: “Wrapped in bacon.” (Great answer!)

He introduced me to Tracy who offered to buy me a drink and the three of us chatted for a few minutes. Mostly I heard Anthony go on and on about how great Tracy was and how Tracy was his right hand man. Which prompted Tracy to show his penis for the camera which I hadn’t noticed before (the camera, that is) and didn’t realize was filming for a documentary. This stunt made Anthony go wild.

Anthony Bourdain: “You’ve got to respect a man who shows his penis on camera!”

That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout!

They were having a great time and were highly energetic. I thanked them both and called Marc right away. That’s when I realized I had my camera with me and didn’t even bother getting a picture. Duh! Oh well, I got this instead: “To Marc: (Picture of a butcher knife) Cook free or die. Anthony Bourdain.” He rocks!

Deborah and her friends Russell, Tom and Sharon all flew in from South Carolina late Thursday night and are staying for *free* at the Embassy Suites in Battery Park courtesy of a few NYPD / DEA officers. Deborah became affiliated with these officers when the Myrtle Beach Area Hospitality Association hosted some trips for them after 9/11. So now they are returning the favor to Deborah complete with car rides all over the place and free tickets to musicals. She’s got it made for the next three days. Two officers, Joe and Ed, met us for lunch before having to go on a drug bust. Both men were very fun and gracious and generous; Deborah has found some great friends.

A few hours after lunch while sitting in P.J. Moran’s, Tom realized he didn’t have his cell phone. After some frantic searching, Tom decided his phone must be in Ed’s car which is now staked out in some weeds near one of NYC’s harbors while Ed & Joe watch motion sensors and stare at crates of cocaine just delivered from Columbia instead of hanging out with us. Deborah called Tom’s phone hoping someone would answer. We wondered aloud if this was such a good idea. What if the phone rang at the precise moment the criminals are making off with all the coke? That’s much worse than the annoying cell phone ringing in the theater.

Ed didn’t answer, but called back a few minutes later saying he’d found Tom’s phone buried in the back seat and would send it to the hotel via messenger. While Deborah chatted with him, we all were voicing various things in the background for Ed’s benefit: “Is that my kilo of coke? Hey, pass the heroin! Damn, man, get your own needle! Don’t smoke it all, crack doesn’t grow on trees.” They didn’t buy it…I guess nabbing drug pushers is more important than us recreational folk. Hmmph!

The tree lighting ceremony was great fun and the tree is so beautiful this year. We had our bird’s eye view of the festivities in the usual spot in the 3rd Floor conference room in my office. This year’s security was just as tight as ever with helicopters circling above, checkpoints at every turn and snipers located on each building aiming for trouble. Each building had floor numbers posted in increments of five to aid them. It’s so weird to live in a world where this is necessary. A few bad apples sure can ruin free society.

After the official lighting, we all cleaned the room and gathered our belongings. I poured my wine into a paper cup to take with me for the cold hike to the subway and we all stood in the hallway waiting for the elevator. My “to go cup” prompted a conversation that led into a discussion of heroin (don’t ask) which is when the elevator doors slid open to reveal three snipers in full sniper dress.

Aw, shit!” I said, thinking I would be busted. “Close your eyes,” Erica directed the men. “So we know where the party was,” one sniper responded. We all piled in and were introduced to three men from special forces who had traveled “all the way from Afghanistan” for the evening. Once downstairs we huddled in our doorway and chatted up the other officers. We met a bomb sniffing German Shepherd that knew sign language just like Paquita. That’s when a pretty skinny Al Roker walked by. I turned to Marc and said, “Hey, there’s Al.” Marc said, “The dog’s name is Al?” Oh well, he didn’t miss much.

Favorite conversation of the night:
Erica: “I can’t help it, I think Eminem is so hot. It’s a combination of his talent, his persona, his ‘I don’t give a fu*k attitude.'”
Marc: “I know! I feel the same way about Star Jones!”

Burn This featured outstanding performances by Ty Burrell, Dallas Roberts and Peter Sarsgaard and a decent turn by Elisabeth Shue. Knowing that my good friend Jim adores Ms. Shue, I was disappointed that she didn’t blow me away. Marc found her performance to be well done, but the part as she played it wasn’t as compelling as the three men’s roles. In her defense, her character is the central figure and quite complicated. At three hours long (including a fifteen minute intermission), the ending was too far away for a Tuesday night. Also, I think the underlying plot line (men who die of AIDS without their families support…just like Dwayne) got lost in the revival. Overall, I enjoyed it and it was a very well spent $16. Yep, TDF did it again by providing professional theatre on the cheap.

Oh yeah, and Jake Gyllenhaal was there with his date, Kirsten Dunst. She was dressed very frumpily, so I took that as a sign that she was out on a casual date and didn’t expect to mingle with anyone. Because of this and the late time the play finished, we hightailed it home rather than chat with Jake. I’m sure Jake felt shunned and his ego was completely shattered. Sorry! Happy Thanksgiving!

I think I broke through some secret society of billionaire boys last night. My boss invited me to see boxing at his very exclusive athletic club with dinner and drinks beforehand with his long time friends. It was like members of The Firm all gathering for raucous time without the hassle of proper etiquette. Blue suits with striped ties all screaming encouragement to two young boys pummeling the shit out of each other. Not something I’ve seen before.

After a couple of glasses of wine, I also felt the liberty to tell my boss he was behaving like a two-year-old. In my own warped way, I meant it as a compliment. He didn’t see it my warped way. I tried to explain it as such and revised it by saying he was behaving like an eight-year-old. This did not work. Great. Just in time for my annual review, bonus and the holidays but it’s not like he’s the type to hold anything over you…oh no…not him…not him at all.

Enter Jack’s office. I’m on my knees crouched on the floor behind his desk. My right arm is moving back and forth quickly and repeatedly. He is sitting in his leather chair moaning under his breath while fiddling with his mouse. Camera scans behind the desk to reveal that I am alternating between scraping and rubbing ice on flourescent blue peppermint gum which is embedded in the carpet that was put there by the sole of his shoe. He is grunting out of frustration because his computer is on the fritz since he knocked it over with his head when he bent down to remove his gum-ridden shoe.

What did you think I was doing at work all day?

Here’s the telephone conversation that took place regarding how things were falling apart for him:

Jack: …And there’s gum on my shoe and on the carpet, I hit my head on my computer, spilled an entire cup of coffee on my desk and now “Michael” is laughing at me.
Me: Why? Are your pants unzipped?

Slam! Dial tone.

Conversation of the Day (Already at this hour?):
Me: Mr. SoAndSo is on my line and wants to speak with you.
Jack: Do you mind listening to me be brilliant?

I wonder how many years it would be before the average person has had sex on every possible calendar date?

Don’t you hate it when you’re in the movie theater and someone’s cell phone rings? And doesn’t it suck when there is a baby in the theater crying and babbling and whining the whole time? And isn’t annoying when teenagers talk and giggle through the entire movie? Well, I’m here to tell you that it does. I’m also here to inform you that when all three happen during the same movie, certain people, and I’m not naming names here, have an increased likelihood of gouging Someone’s eyes out and that Someone just might be the cell phone user, the baby and/or any teenager. Fair warning!