Sunday, April 13, 2008

Special Guest Blogger, TimothyDunn.Blogspot.com

Good evening, fair readers! It appears that Mr. Patrick Garrigan is under the weather this week and feeling deeply unbloggy. So, in his sickly state of mind, he has asked me, Timothy Dunn, to guest blog for him.

“But wait… who exactly is this Timothy Dunn blog character?” I hear you murmuring to your fake executive assistants. (…mine’s named Vicki Grubbs.) And to those murmurers, I respond thusly:

The name’s Tim. Pronounced with an ‘umpty. Maybe you know me, maybe you don’t—I’m unbothered either way. I live in Astoria. I’m an actor/improviser/sketch comedy person/bartender/all-around swell guy. I do achieve Greatness, but sadly, simply through alcohol and a poor sense of judgment. Good to know you.

It’s actually quite serendipitous that Patty asked me to write this, as I’ve been wandering around thinking bloggy thoughts over the past few days. ‘Cuz the first real days of spring are the best days to be in New York. We can all agree on this. Everyone’s in a great mood, all anyone seems to want to talk about are delicious margaritas and the gorgeousness of the weather, boys with count-able abs (ie. more than one) go jogging shirtless—the stuff that puts a bounce in your step and a few extra s’s into the word fabulousss.

I was feeling similarly glorious one recent day…until one tiny little thing happened. It’s not important what that one thing was (…that’s a lie. We’ll get to it later.), but the important realization I came across was how fleeting good moods are in this city. One tiny, inconsequential utterance or misstep, and I am plunged into a cynical, back-talking, whiny, bitchass mood, and then I talk for the rest of the day about how [insert minorly irritating occurrence] ruined my day. I need to work on that. This blog is me working that out, I suppose. Admitting the problem is the first step, right?

That’s a long intro to a blog, I know. But I’m new here. (And I’m long-winded.) (And a terrible editor.) So, I’ve decided to compile an introductory list of things that I love, and the things that ruin those things for me. You dig? Let’s go.

I love: eating out in New York.

I hate: when the people I’m eating with annoy the waitress. If we’re eating at a restaurant together, chances are you’ve been a waiter or bartender at some point, too. Or you’ve dated several. You know better than to keep asking for shit, thing by thing. If you know you’re going to need ketchup and mayo with your burger, tell the girl when you order. If your drink is empty when your water is empty, don’t ask for them one at a time. If you asked for a burger done medium and it came medium-well, suck it up. And don’t ever leave coins as your part of the tip. Ever.

I love: walking my dog around Astoria.

I hate: when people bark or make aggressive dog sounds at him/us. Firstly, it makes my dog freak out. And then you’re gone, and I have to try and calm down my crazed, confused dog. Secondly, you just look like an idiot, grown man-on-a-bike. Why would you do that? What was your thought process? “Oh! A dog! I know dog sounds!”? What did you think as soon as you were passed us? If it wasn’t, “I’m a total fuck-tard,” I hope you get hit by a car.

I love: random musical acts on the subway. Mexican guitar/accordion duets, the Lion Sleeps Tonight gang, the random black homeless man I recently encountered who sang a flawless (!!!) operatic soprano (!!!!!!!!!).

I hate: a few things on this topic. Firstly, when the acts get aggressive about money. I’m most likely not going to tip you, know that. I already paid my admission charge for this show, I’m not buying any private dances. Don’t sit next to me and sing right at my face. I’ll ignore your ass up and down the N-line. Don’t point at me or make a comment about me not tipping you. My iPod might not be on, but the earbuds are in. Also, if you are enjoying the acts, clapping along or making requests, YOU are the one who MUST give them money. It’s you who keeps them coming back! They learned Mambo Number 5 for you, Angela, Pamela, Sandra and Rita! Give them a peso!

I love: bartending. It’s my shitty money-making job, but I do really enjoy it. I love talking to people, making introductions to peeps at the bar, general bar camaraderie. “We’re in it for the night together. Let’s have fun!” Woo!

I hate: when people don’t know that they want to drink and make it my problem. “Surprise me” is death to a bartender. Inevitably, that bar patron will continue with something asinine like, “Nothing too sweet. Or anything with a lot of juices in it. I’m allergic to pineapple and tonic. I don’t drink rum or tequila. And nothing too strong. Or in a martini glass.” My answer is always, “Beer,” and, of course, if I was to say that to you, annoying Bar Guy McGee, I’m positive that you’d say, “I don’t drink beer or wine.” All of us, as imbibing adults, should have three or four stock go-to in our brains at all times. I don’t care if it’s a vodka tonic or a Negroni (gin, sweet vermouth and Campari—siiiiick!). Just don’t make your bitchassness my problem.

I love: hugging my friends when I greet them.

I hate: when sweaty friends don’t stop the hug before it gets too involved.

I love: Astoria Park.

I hate: when Deputy Park Rangers threaten to take me (in my rollerSKATES!) and my leashed, registered, pitbull puppy “to the precinct” because I don’t have my ID on me as I skate through the park. Sure, it may be a law that you have to carry ID with you at all times, but, really Astoria Park douche bag? Don’t you have something to mow? Or inmate “volunteers” to anally pummel in the back of your awesome, white Park/Rec van? Also, awesome ‘stache. Dick.

I love: inquiring about peoples’ and friends’ well-being.

I hate: when I’m nervous or flustered or caught off guard, and I ask how people are doing one too many times. It usually happens really fast, though. And we all ignore it. Like this:

Me: Oh, hey Sweet Larry! Looking good! How are you?

Sweet Larry: I’m really, really, great, Tim! Nice sombrero! How are you?

Me: I’m good. How are you? [brain explodes]

I love: sunny days, obviously. I like being outside, ambling through the streets, taking in the day. Ahh. New Yawk Citttttttayyyy.

I hate: people who are just walking too, too slow. Walk as slow as your need, old timer. Just get the fuck out of my way! Stay to one side, please! And no, you can NOT hold hands with your five fuck-tard friends and expect everyone to walk around your little idiot Ring-Around-the-Sidewalk game. I will try and knock you off balance. And if/when you fall, I will stomp you in your plastic hip.

I love: riding the subway. It’s convenient, usually pretty quick, “green” (…gay.), and cheaper than all other alternatives.

I hate: people who don’t know the Seating Rules. If I’m the only one in a bank of three individual seats, and I’m in the left seat, no, you may absolutely not sit in the middle seat. Sit in the seat on the right. No need to be so close. If you’re alone in those three-seats, do NOT be sitting in the middle seat when I come onto the train. Don’t we all know that the middle seat is the “last chance” seat? And, on the new N trains, three people to each side of the pole on those blue benches. Do not try and squeeze in to be our fourth, Latina lady with a huge ass and seventeen Duane Reed bags. I will box you out.

I love: buybacks at bars. Nice bartender, giving me free booze!

I hate: people who don’t understand that nothing is free in life. If I say to you, “This one’s on me,” you’re welcome. Of course! I’m giving you a free drink because I either like you or I like something about you. But you still have to tip me for it. I’m still serving you that beer, and I’m not a volunteer, alkie. Sure, the bar itself is losing money on that drink, but that’s part of a bar’s operations. The bar takes the loss of a drink to ensure customers are having a good time. It’s up to the bartender to decide who gets to enjoy that perk. But the bartender is still working. He still made you that drink. Tip the guy. In fact, if your drink was, let’s say, $8 when you were paying for them, give him $4 as a tip when he gives you one on the house. You’re still saving $4. And I promise- all bartenders remember who tips and who doesn’t, whether you’re a friend or a first-timer. Good tippers get more booze and more free drinks. That’s a fact.

I love: performing sketch comedy, especially this Monday, April 14th at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre at 8:00 PM! Especially when it’s part of UCB’s Maude Night, with my sketch team mixtape ’98! What? Our myspace page is www.myspace.com/mixtape98? What? You can make reservations at http://newyork.ucbtheatre.com/shows/1425? That’s something we all can love!

I hate: when people don’t come to my shows. And when people bitch about totally arbitrary stuff.

Get well soon, Patty! God knows, I can’t crank this stuff out like you do! Don’t believe me? Check out my blog: timothydunn.blogspot.com. It’s garbage.

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EDITORIAL NOTE: My sincere thanks to Mr. Dunn for sharing his views. Normally, I would say they don't necessarily reflect the views of GWGG, but um, they do. Oh, and the roller skating granny is on rollerblades and not rollerSKATES. My apologies to Mr. Dunn for the inaccuracy, but I like the visual of a cambre-ing old lady. Thanks, chief.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

...please where can I buy a unicorn?

Anonymous said...

Hi all. How are you?

Anonymous said...

Add the remaining ingredients and gently bring a few to true a silent boil . Add the flour mixture, stirring constantly

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