Saturday, May 24, 2008

Profiles In Greatness: Sue Baughman

Greatness is everywhere, you just need to know where to look.


This week, I experienced a loss in the family that sent me home to Ohio. I had not been back to Ohio since 2004, when I was touring the country in an enormous orange van, banging skanks in shitty hotels ('cause it's what I do), and maintaining a diet of (6) piece Chicken McNuggets, fruit and yogurt parfaits, and blue Powerade -yeah, really. So, it was a bit of a culture shock.

What did I find when the Prodigal Son returned? I found lotsa stuff. I found the place hadn't changed a lick since the year nineteen hundred and ninety seven. Sideburns were still maintained at Beverly Hills 90210 lengths, and it is still extremely flat and annoyingly green.

Furthermore, the lackadaisical way of conversation had me screaming, "FASTER! FASTER! FASTER!" in my head. So I says to myself, "Patience, self." And that helped a little. Then I said, "Self, put the potato peeler down." And I did. And that's the story of how I avoided assault charges.

I know what you elitist bastards out there are thinking, "Oh my gracious, it sounds awful." You elitist bastards are correct, it was -although I'm not sure why you chose the expression 'oh my gracious,' you douchebags. Despite the loss I was going through, and the painful Ian Ziering wannabes that weighed on my pschye and offended my sense of style, there was a silver lining, for I also found Greatness.

Ladies and Gentleman, allow me to introduce you to Sue Baughman, the winner of the first ever and yet to be produced, Profiles in Greatness Award. The award is gorgeous, stands 4 feet tall and is made of solid Brazilian mahogany with a platinum likeness of me at it's zenith. I gotta tell you, Sue, you're really going to love it and as soon as the pawn shop reopens on Tuesday, and my roommate Joey leaves for work, I am, like, totes gonna pawn his shit and get that bitchin' thing made, man! Hollerrrr!

Whoa, whoa. All I can hear is you all, "WTF, I thought we were like, BFF's and stuff. IDK what she has and I don't, FFS?" Well for starters, your abbrev. is really annoying and profane. Secondarily, all your acronyms forced me to do too many link-throughs to Wikipedia for people who speak English, which took precious time that I could be using to watch Law & Order: SVU.

Why did Sue Baughman win the first ever Profiles in Greatness Award? Two (or three) words: Apple Roll-Ups.

Don't let her short stature and sweet appearance fool you, behind those squinted eyes is the ruthless, bloodthirsty mastermind behind the famous, Ada Apple Roll-Up; which I would put up against any bakery you could find during the course of a quick query on Citysearch. I am not a foodie by any stretch of the imagination, but these are the best deserts I have eaten. Ever. For achieving Greatness in the form of pie crust, apple filing and delicious frosting she is the recipient of this illustrious award.

I recently sat down with Sue to congratulate her on her award and get a sense of what makes her tick.
PG: Sue congratulations on your recent award.

Sue: What award?

PG: The Profiles in Greatness Award.

Sue: Dear, what is that?

PG: The award I told you I'm giving you because you made me that plate of delicious Apple Roll-Ups.

Sue: Oh, that's just silly. I don't need an award. Really, all they are is pie crust and apple filling, it's no problem, really.

PG: Oh, Aunt Sue, I'm sure there's got to be more to it than that... A little extra loving touch? Something? C'mon....

Sue: No... really.... there's... not.... Oh! Okay, I do have a little secret. [she leans forward] A hint 'o lint. [with that she produces a small piece of lint from under her shirt.] See?
It is at this point I conclude the interview and devour the remaining Apple Roll-Ups, for her lint is the most delicious in all the land. So for Greatness in delicious apple and lint-based delicacies, Sue Baughman is the year's* Profiles in Greatness Award winner. Congratulations.

--
*EDITORIAL NOTE: While we have technically awarded this year's Profiles in Greatness Award to Aunt Sue, GWGG reserves the right to rescind the award if the roll-ups give Patrick a tummy ache. Additionally, GWGG may offer another Profiles in Greatness Award this year if Patrick gets really drunk one Saturday night and is too hung over to come up with a new idea the following Sunday. That is all.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

MyPod

I have long held the point of view that candy bars with caramel filling inside are the best ones -especially that delicious Cadbury Caramello bar. Secondarily however, I have also been of the opinion that a person's iPod is a window to their soul. Much in the same way that I judge people based on the shoes that they wear.

Now most people know me as a music hipster, one with his pinky finger on the thumping pulse of a constantly evolving music scene. It is just one part of my Rennaisance Man-like pursuit of Greatness in all things. Despite this, I put my iPod ear buds in one at a time, just like you! To prove it, I've decided to open my iPod to you and give you a smattering of some of the more frequently featured tunes. So tell your boss to piss off, plug in those speakers, open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness which you know you cannot fight - the darkness of the music of the night . . . er, and let's to the playlist, yes?



  1. America, Fuck Yeah - As most of you know, I LOVE AMERICA. Seriously. I also love this song. Not since America The Beautiful has a song so completely encapsulated all the things that are great about this land. Have a listen, I think you'll agree.
  2. The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth - I was born in West Virginia, I drink too much coffee, my teeth are crooked. This song speaks to me.
  3. Hard Knock Life - I am so fucking "street," man. By "street" I mean I enjoy hip-hop songs which drop wicked beats over a chestnuts of the musical theatre cannon about an irrepressible, red-headed orphan in search of parents who will love and cherish her in a manner she so rightly deserves, ya heard? Word.
  4. A-Team Remix - "I love it when a plan comes together." I especially love it when my plan involves dropping "E," grabbing some glow sticks, and demanding that people touch me.
  5. Both Hands - We all have needs. Sometimes I need to soak my feet in epsom salts, light up some incense, give myself an Origins facial and have a good cry as this song plays on a loop for (4) days.
  6. April 29th, 1992 - I have never looted before, but based on the instructions provided in this song, I think I might be really good at it!!
  7. Kiss Me, I'm Shitfaced - Some may try, "Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only ten I see! Zing!" But I find "Kiss Me, I'm Shitfaced" a more efficient use of words. Less talkey, talkey more sexy, sexy.
  8. Extreme Ways - Yes, that song is from the Bourne Identity movies. I have a very overactive imagination and as a result I play this song when I'm in the subway and pretend to evade non-existent assassins. Which ultimately results in me beating up that street musician at the Herald Square station who plays the saw.
  9. Hoe Down - When I rise in the morning, I play this song, feed the chickens and then have a steak. It's what's for dinner.
  10. Obsecion - I lived in Washington Heights from 2002 - 2003. It sucked. However, my neighbors were kind enough to play this song over and over again at bowel-rumbling volumes, and over time I grew to love it. Then some street urchins threw marbles at me and I threw them back at them, and then I moved. The end.
  11. Love Me Dead - This song includes the lyrics, "You've got the mark of the beast. You're born of a jackal! You're beautiful!" For that strange juxtaposition I list it here. Enjoy this nifty ditty.
  12. Move Bitch - If you are walking slowly in front of me on the sidewalk, I play this song and then use your head to move you out of my way.
  13. New York City Beat - I'm writing a screenplay along the lines of the Devil Wears Prada about a young man struggling in the city to become the world's finest children's face painter. You'll find this song on the trailer and ultimately the soundtrack.
  14. Online - Full disclosure: I am a 400lb. Arkansanian with hands for feet and feet for hands who spends most of his day playing Magic: The Gathering. Will you still be my friend?
  15. If I Was President - It is no secret that I'm a political junky. As it pertains to my presidential aspirations, Wyclef gets it right. Due to my proclivity for douchebaggery I too would be, "elected on Friday, assassinated on Saturday, buried on Sunday (with a really tasteful marble headstone featuring a bust and really nice gold leaf lettering)."
Ludwig Van Beethoven once said, "music should strike fire from the heart of man, and bring tears from the eyes of woman." So men, hopefully this playlist gave you a heart attack and woman, you had a complete and total emotional breakdown. That is the power of music.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

For Momma


I am what some might call, "a self-important, indulgent douchebag." The kind of person you might meet at a party and wonder to yourself, "what poor woman gave birth to that fellow?" My mother, that's who. In honor of Mother's Day (which was Sunday, but whatevs), I salute that lovely woman who bore me, me muver.

This year work obligations prevented me from heading home to the Garrigan Compound to wish Mommy a Happy Mother's Day in person. In light of my absence I offered her a myriad of rewards for her contributions to Greatness™: an amazing flying pig hat (with real flapping wing action), a relaxing Crisco rub down, or a helpful / easy to come by Asian baby. All of these gifts were rebuffed, and her reply was the same as it always is when I offer to give her a gift:

"Just write me a story."

To which I flatly replied, "no."

How could I refuse me own mother on this, the day for mothers -Mother's Day?!!! It's not like I don't have material to write about.

I might begin my story when I was 5, telling the tale of a busy woman, who despite the demands of raising three kids, and ensuring that my sweater vest/oxford button down/tie outfits were properly starched, still took 20 - 45 minutes (depending on my degree of constipation) to sit on the ledge of the bath tub and discuss current events to an easily bored and attention-demanding, Young Master Garrigan.

Or perhaps I could fast forward to age 7, and launch into the yarn about the time when I sat at the piano bench and played my lessons to an appreciative madre, only to cut them short and ask, "what is a homo?" And tell how we then engaged in a tactful discourse on sexual relations. Upon the conclusion of which I replied, "do I have to put my thing in her?"

One chapter should recount the narrative of a high school freshman, who unfortunately began to adopt a crap British accent after being driven by his mother an hour each way to voice lessons while listening to the musical stylings of one genius, Michael Crawford.

For a moment, I might even take breather from talking about myself to chronicle the bombastic volume of my mother's farts. The likes of which I could not come close to if I had a police megaphone (I've tried and have pictures), or the incredible cuteness when she sheepishly chirps,"excuse me."

I could write volumes of emotionally lyrical short stories about how when major relationships fell apart I would cry once -and the only person I would to cry to was Mom. And the fact that I felt wholly vindicated when she would conclude, "it just wasn't right, you'll find what you're looking for."

One of my fables would definitely include the good humor of a woman who will let me rant when my lovely, well-intentioned, grandmother would forward on e-mails to me about how Barack Obama is an al Qaeda operative cleverly concocting to topple U.S. from within or that Mexicans are stealing those highly-sought-after dishwashing and bus boy jobs from hard-working Americans.

The LAST story I'd ever write would outline a mother who always advised, "be a garbage man if you want, just be the best garbage man you can be;" and then go on to delight in how throughout growing up this same lady tolerated (and was probably secretly amused / proud of) my unearned sense of entitlement, and unwaveringly told me to keep writing, keep performing, and do whatever it was that made me my best me.

I mean, I guess I could write all that shit, but who'd want to read that? I think I'm going to get her the pig hat instead.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

It's Comin'....


Hey all,

So supa busy @ work. So much so that I use the @ sign as opposed to writing 'at.' It'll be up later today. Daddy promises....

Love,
Daddy

Monday, May 05, 2008

Snapshots from Sunfest

Hello Lovers of Greatness! The current local time is 1:30am, I just flew in from West Palm Beach and boy are my........ head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes tired. Yes, friends I just back in from a "strategic quality control spot check" at the Sunfest music festival in Skincancerville, Florida with my boss -who I must offer a tip of the hat to for a delightful weekend. Yeah, yeah I know enough with the platitudes, "wha didja do?" you breathlessly ask. Well, here's some literary snapshots I wanted to pass on before I pass out. Grab your SPF 75 and enjoy:

Good News / Bad News
Good news, due to a booking glitch we get upgraded to 1st class! Better news, we get hot towels and free wine! Bad news, I drink a whole bottle of free wine, get naked and proceed to give myself a sponge bath using the relaxing terrycloth to reach my "nooks and crannies." Worse news, tackled to the ground by Air Marshalls. Worstest news, ejected into [gasp] COACH with the plebes!



Pastey No More!
We Irish are not known for our pigment. We are known for our inability to hold down a job and our notoriously small penises. Luckily for me, I was at least able to sidestep one of these character traits by getting some color! (2) hours poolside and daddy now has a sunkist glow. Actually, not so much a glow as an inferno of red pain dancing across my chest, or something like that. Oh, and I took to wearing 18th Century wigs, you know, just for fun.

When Animals Attack
While enjoying the fine West Palm Beach shithole establishment, Callico Jacks or Pirate Al's House of Spirits or something a fight broke out! Yes, kids (2) large white trash Bubbas took swings at each other, bloodying one of the participants! As I observed the animals in their natural habitat and enjoyed a refreshing Rolling Rock, I saw none other than GWGG's own guest blooger, Timothy Dunn, leap across the bar, separate the gents and boldly declare, "take it home fellas!" And as quickly as the squall had kicked up, Timothy had rendered it done/Dunn -and I returned to ogling the bartender's tittays (strictly for health purposes).

Musak
What kind of person would I be if I didn't attend a concert or two at a music fest? A stupid person, that's what kind. The kind who should never receive hugs or praise or warm chocolate chip cookies. That's the kind of person I'd be. Luckily, I'm not that kind of person, I like cookies and positive re-enforcement too much. While there, I attended Stephen & Julian Marley's show and Hellogoodbye, both of which kicked ass. Naturally, being a VIP, we were invited back to hang with the Marley Bros. It was here that we smoked copious amounts of gange, ate Sun Chips, and crafted very thorough thesis on the viability of cheddar cheese leading to broad changes in U.S. foreign policy. I would explain it, but you just had to be there to get it, bruddah.


Don't you feel like you were there? Probably not, because you weren't, and that's gotta sting a bit, yah? Walk it off. Next weekend I'll be back to rocking in the corner in the dark and that's something we all can enjoy! Me sleepy. Nighty night.

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