speaks with his fist

10 minutes into a (crucial, much needed) nap, the phone rang. It was work.

So I had some work to do (news doesn't stop just because I need a nap and have a hockey game to get to) and ended up leaving an hour late for MSG. I missed the first 12 minutes of the first period (and also our first goal in seven periods — thank you Prucha, you handsome, wonderful man). I arrived just in time to see Nylander score the second goal of the game, so I bought a beer and went to my seat.

And then the party started. That motherfucking monster Donald Brashear — one of the very few people whom I'd surely spit in the face of, given the chance — was in (not-so) rare form, picking fights, haunting Jagr, asking for a total beating.

Our regular team thugs (and I say that with the utmost respect and affection. I love our team thugs.) did their best to keep him busy and put him in his place. And then he tangled with Brendan Shanahan. The entire Garden was on its feet screaming and cheering for every punch my man Shanny landed after he threw off his gloves and got the party started right on center ice. It was glorious. Then Brashear got thrown out, for attempting to do bodily harm, and I jumped up and down (seriously, I left the ground at least four times in pure joy) and pointed to the door, cheering. It was magic.

Oh yeah, plus we won. Seven-game losing streak? Snapped!

hey bus driver, keep the change

It's great to see that transit workers are all but smoking me in the wage department. Next time two (or three, my favorite!) buses show up all at once (at the time the third is scheduled for, of course), I'm going to ask "What, were you guys too busy giving each other handjobs?!" at top volume rather than under my breath like I usually do.

at least now I can say that I am trying

Year-End Special, Issue #2: Albums, Part 1

Album that boiled the genius of three of my favorite defunct bands into one highly enjoyable and extremely unlikely package:
Brand New, The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me

Album that made me wonder if we'd all be better off if another of my favorite bands were defunct:
Sloan, Never Hear the End of It

Album that was worth the 90 years of waiting:
The Dears, Gang of Losers

Album that left me feeling all warm and nostalgic-like
Candy Butchers, Making Up Time

turn out hate in factories

Dear Today,

Beat it. Seriously. Bug off. No one likes you, and we know you are just hating because other days are very nice and productive and lovable. Oh, but not you.

If you were standing in front of me right now, I'd punch you in the throat.

Die die die.

love*jane

see I'm wise enough to know when a gift needs givin'

I cannot stop watching that SNL "_ in a box" video. Not to mention my obsession with "What's my weakness? Soup!" and Jo-Jessica. Man, Justin has created an instant classic. In my version of events, he wrote the great sketches. How else was it so funny? Also when Alec Baldwin was on, he wrote his own sketches too. And Ludacris also.

Anyway, "backstage at the CMAs" will never have the same meaning again.

Another night, another awful hockey game. I think they are trying to destroy me. Thankfully, my latest obsession (no, not Brand New. It's Matt "Don't Shave Too High You'll Regret It Later" Cullen — and yes, I know he has unfortunate hair. And a wife.) was out hurt. Thankfully? Why? Because I got to spend the whole game wondering what he was doing. PS It was always dirty.

But the Bigmouth Maple Leafs fan wasn't annoying about the Saturday night loss at all. "Come on, you have to let me gloat a little," he said. "We're on a one-game winning streak!" Fair enough.

can I get myself out from underneath

At 9something PM, my Christmas tree was up and decorated, all but the angel. I should have taken a picture. Because then it fell down. I don't think anything broke, luckily (Not even the ornaments you threw across the room for daring to fall on you while you were under the tree trying to get it to stand again? No, not even those).

Also, hockey fucking sucked. 9-2? Seriously? My day was going well until that. Bastards. I'm giving the Bigmouth Maple Leafs Fan who sits behind me at MSG just 30 seconds to talk about it at tonight's game. After that, he's going the way of the ornaments that fell on my head. Only he'll break, I assure you.

This morning I've dyed my hair. Now I'm going out to get a new Christmas tree stand. And a latte. Using Preference by Loreal AND indulging in a Dunkin' Donuts free Gingerbread Latte? Why not? I'm worth it.

PS I didn't stay up for all of the JT SNL, but so far so good. "Omletteville" revisited I saw coming. "The Barry Gibb Talk Show" I hoped for. But "My Dick in a Box" — now that was a surprise. And a good one. Especially when they said, "See, I'm wise enough to know ..." Magnificent.

I don't mind you under my skin

I don't believe that you believe (You, who? I don't know. Maybe me) that I really love this Brand New record. I think some of you who don't know it need convincing. Call me and I will play the songs for you. Or here are some words that are so fantastic to make you die. PS Think of them with the best, most appropriate music behind them and that is exactly it. Man.

The lucky thing is that in my favorite song, "Limousine," one of the best parts is repeated approximately 600,000 times. Perfect. It goes, "I love you so much/ But do me a favor, baby, don't reply/ Cause I can dish it out, but I can't take it."

Oh. My. Land. Are you dead? Did it kill you? You know it killed me. (Especially those of you who know how I lived it!) Anyway, is that not the greatest thing you've ever heard? Also there is the amazing part of "And in the choir/ I saw our sad Messiah/ He was bored and tired of my laments/ Said I’d die for you one time but never again."

Whoa.

Another favorite song is "Luca," and that one is crazy too.

"You'll never work well with our group/ Not with the faults we found/ So we fixed you with cement galoshes/ No one can save you now/ Unless you have friends among fish/ There'll still be no air to breathe/ You can drink up the entire ocean/ We'll still find someone to be everything we know that you'll never be"

I have no idea what that means, but I know that it is amazing.

you tidal wave, you're a big surprise

Um, I love this Brand New album. Wait, what? Love it. It's like The Sheila Divine and Thrush Hermit and some other something I love (What is it? Tell me.) and everything else great. Why didn't anyone tell me? I mean, I heard people telling other people, but other people like stuff that sucks. Why didn't anyone tell ME? OK, so James at work told me today as I was stealing it from the "Steal This" bin in the mailroom. Thanks, James. You're right.

In other news, I really feel so free now. I think lifting the bad band burden (see previous entry) has lifted my spirits. Not enough to go out tonight as planned, but whatever. I will not hide your secret anymore, Sloan. You made a bad record. Wow. It feels so good to say it.

But don't take it too hard. After all, I am a Freak.

Freak- INFJ 46% Extraversion, 53% Intuition, 33% Thinking, 73% Judging

Well, well, well. How did someone like you end up with the least common personality type of them all? In a group of 100 Americans, only 0.5 others would be just like you. You really are one of a kind... In fact, I do believe that that's one of the definitions for the word "FREAK." Freak's not such a bad word to describe you actually. You are deep, complex, secretive and extremely difficult to understand. If that doesn't scream "Freak!" I don't know what does. No-one actually knows the REAL you, do they? You probably have deep interests in creative expression as well as issues of spirituality and human development. You've probably even been called a "psychic" before, because of your uncanny knack to understand and "read" people without quite knowing how you do it. Don't fret. You're not actually psychic. That would make you special and you'll never accomplish that. You're also quite possibly the most emotional of them all, so don't take this all too hard. Nevertheless you most definitely have the strangest personality type and that's not necessarily a good thing. *****************The other personality types Loner - Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving Pushover - Introverted Sensing Feeling Judging Criminal - Introverted Sensing Thinking Perceiving Borefest - Introverted Sensing Thinking Judging Almost Perfect - Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving Loser - Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving Crackpot - Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging Clown - Extraverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving Sap - Extraverted Sensing Feeling Judging Commander - Extraverted Sensing Thinking Perceiving Do Gooder - Extraverted Sensing Thinking Judging Scumbag - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving Busybody - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging Prick - Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving Dictator - Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging Link: The Brutally Honest Personality Test written by UltimateMaster on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

oh where should I start?

The fog has lifted, and I'll tell you why, in not-even-remotely-blind-item terms: What Canadian band that put out a beyond-awful album is playing a secret/not secret/secret again show in my borough and didn't even bother to tell me?

Now, I know what you're thinking, "What, you're special?" Um, yes. And if I am not special, if I am not privy to special information and special consideration, then neither are they. Which means

dun dun DUN ...

Guess who is (almost) ready to let loose with the entry "Year-End Special, Issue #? - Biggest Fiasco Committed To Disc "?

Wait for it.

10s, 10s, 10s, 10s, 10s across the board!

Year-End Special, Issue #1: Best White Rapper

Do you know how I feel about white rappers? It isn't good. For years I believed the greatest white rapper was Aaron Carter, which really said more about Eminem than Aaron.

But anyway, I've changed my mind. And not only because Aaron Carter is giving a serious meth fiend effect (allegedly).

No, it's not Kevin Federline (sorry, dude). And not to shortchange Paul Wall — he's white, right? — though the Brooke Hogan action is a bit busted, but this category comes down to two serious contenders: Mickey Avalon and Linda James.

Let's break it down:

One's an L.A. hustler-turned-rapper.

The other's a New York androgofemme from the house of Aviance.

One caught my attention with the super-catchy "Jane Fonda": "One, two, three, four/ Get your booty on the dance floor/ Work it out/ Shake it little mama/ let me see you do the Jane Fonda."

The other has brought a weekly ray of sunshine to my life via the Gay Pimp podcast.

One won me over in a big way with the lyric "I'm on the run/ My dad's a bum/ I asked my girl if she loved me and she just said, 'Umm.'"

The other spits genius rhymes including "I know you wanna get in my Balenciaga/ All night fucking on a bed of dolla." Also, "[Something something something] fuck/ My white diamonds always bring me luck."

While Linda has brought me more joy this year, most of it wasn't rap-related. Mickey has delivered the rhymes, though Linda has my heart. I just need more music, gir'!

For now, this one is a draw.

never read or hardly wrote

My vacation is over. Boo. But I don't want to go back to work. I am clearly cut out for a life of leisure.

Also, I have a new favorite song. It's called "You and I Are a Gang of Losers" and it is the greatest great ever. And it is from my favorite album all year, The Dears' Gang of Losers — not to be confused with my favorite mixtape all year, Gay Pimp's This Is New York City, Bitch: The East Village Mixtape. I'll explain later. And there are more unsolicited year-end favorites to come. Get into it.