“My son is the worst at hiding his weed. I don't understand how he can even begin to think what he's doing is discreet. First of all, he knows I don't want him smoking. He knows I don't want it in the house. He knows he's grounded if I find it but then, one day, I open up the fridge and he's taped a dime bag to the back of the almond milk. Does he really think I won't see that? And we go through almond milk fast. That carton was maybe halfway full. Also, isn't it bad for the pot to be in the fridge? It has to be, right? I don't know much about dope but this can't be the best place to put it. It's also just...I'm more offended that he might think he's pulling one over on me with this kind of thing. The other night I picked up a book from my nightstand and the pages had been hollowed out. It was a brand new book! And he's already stashing his weed in it...I'm losing my fucking mind."
“My friends tell me I have an incredible tolerance for pain. Whether or not that's true, I don't think they need to keep testing me on it. Last week I was riding an elevator with a co-worker. Everything was totally normal until he just stomps the crap out of my left foot. It hurt like a son of a gun. I was pissed as hell. But at the same time, I felt like showing him that it did really hurt would be letting him and my friends down in some way. I have a reputation now. So I grinned and said, 'Nice try'. I guess its just as much on me as it is on them."
“I'm originally from upstate, near Poughkeepsie. I grew up having a big backyard that bordered a forest that I'd play in all the time. Since moving to the city, I've been craving something outdoorsy like that. Somewhere where I can hike, fish, swim, and be alone with nature. Somewhere like the jungle from Predator or something."
“I've been smoking since I was sixteen. I thought it was sexy as hell. I still do. You don't quit sexy."
“I'm not a banana."
“Biking to work has totally changed my life. I'm exercising more, I'm seeing different parts of the city, it's just great. My four-year old daughter, on the other hand, hates it. I have a seat for her on the back and she just screams her head off for about forty-five minutes."
“I've always been blessed with a nice voice. I'm not planning on pursuing it though. It's just a nice thing to do when you're out doing karaoke with friends or when you're having a piss. I like not having the pressure to have to do it all the time. That way it's always just fun."
“Sometimes I'll just kick back a hot cup of Tahini for lunch and call it a day. I've never been much of a big eater when I'm working. Dinner though, I'll take down a rack of lamb the size of Hollywood."
“Please don't tell my wife I'm here, okay?"
“I've been carrying ketchup on me since I was in the third grade. It's not because I like to put it on food or anything. Sometimes it's just handy to have a packet on you in case you need to fake a nosebleed. Whenever I'm in a bind at work or something, I'll pretend to walk into a door real fast and dab a bit on my nose. Can't tell you how many meetings that's gotten me out of!"
“I think my son is a pervert. He's always upstairs in his room, watching old game shows. I don't understand it. I don't know where he gets it but it bothers me and makes me sick."
“I used to bartend at this club in Vegas. It was a pretty sweet gig. Lot of celebrities would come through and all that. One night, Criss Angel came by, the dude from Mindfreak. He took a seat at the bar and we talked for a bit. Seemed like a nice guy. He was drinking mojitos most of the night. After a few, I made him another and said, "It's on the house". He was quiet for a second and then started saying some shit about "cosmic energy" and "atomic transformation" or something. Next thing I know, the glass has disappeared from the counter and he says "It's not just on the house, it’s on your house." Then he gets up and leaves. No payment, no tip, no nothing. A few hours later, I finish my shift and head home a little frustrated from everything that happened. As I walk towards my door, I hear this rustling and groaning coming from the side of the house. I walk over and see a ladder on the ground next to some shattered glass. Then I spot some legs sticking out of the hedges. I walk closer and see that it's Criss Angel. He's got the wind knocked out of him or something and he's telling me that he was trying to climb onto the roof so he could put a mojito on top of it. I asked him why and he said 'So I could put it on YOUR house." I still didn't understand and he said "Never mind". The fire department came later and got him out. To this day, I don't really know what he was doing there. I guess that's just magicians for you. Very mysterious people."
“I get hit hard with allergies every spring, which can be really bad for business. No one wants to get a haircut from a guy who's sniffling and coughing the whole time. I tried wearing one of those mouth cover mask things but I couldn't breathe well in those. So recently I've just been wearing my kid's old Scream mask. Anyway, works for me and the regulars don't mind."
"I don't believe you can ever hug hard enough."
“I love walking this city. It's surprising, romantic...It's just New York City. What more can I say!"
“I was once the prettiest little thing you ever saw. Everyone loved me. I had my pick of the parties on weekends. I used to laugh with friends over coffee in my garden. When I went to the beach, handsome men would try to impress me by diving off of the dock. Then, one day, things took a turn for the worse. I saw Gods of Egypt. Twice. I don't know what I was thinking. I've never been the same since."
“It's easy to be a celebrity in this city. No one really hassles you for autographs. You can kind of walk freely, which is really refreshing. One time in LA, I woke up and found someone in my hotel room trying to jar my sleeping breath."
“We're all out here for Gus' bachelor party weekend. We were just at Dallas BBQ doing a recovery brunch, but ended up getting fuckin' hammered. Now we're headed uptown to catch a show like Uncle Vanya or some shit."
"I was unpacking after my flight back from San Francisco and the inside of my bag reeked of Big Red gum. I have no idea how that could've happened. I haven't chewed Big Red in years and its been even longer since I've bought a pack. It didn't smell before the trip either. But, as soon as I unzipped my duffel in my apartment, that hot candy cinnamon smell just flooded out. I was planning on washing my clothes anyway but what gives, you know?"
“I remember the old East Village, where you had to go to two separate stores if you wanted to get a tattoo and a novelty skull bong."
“Fuck you."
“People often stop me and ask where I buy my outfits. It's weird. I don't really think of myself as a fashion expert or a model or anything like that. I'm just me, you know?"
*dead*
“I've had a few different tag names over the years. 'C Meant', 'Grapes', 'Rude Rat', 'Rough N' Tough'. I'd usually practice on the shed in my backyard but haven't been allowed to ever since my mom found some of my weed taped to the cat."
“I'm not a banana, dude."
“He was the valedictorian, the all star quarterback, student body president, all of that. I was on a much different path. I usually spent my time outside of the classroom going to coffee shops and heckling folk singers. But then, one day at our local roller rink, I was yelling at some kids and saw this handsome man. He bought me a drink and now we've been together for thirty-seven years."
“Little help?"
“Every once in awhile you have to just take a seat and breathe in the city. It's an incredible place. It's in constant motion, swirling with people going here and there. At times, it can seem overwhelming. But most of the time, it gives me a sense of belonging. Belonging to the motion, the crowd, the street. Even if I'm at work or on the bus or making love to my beautiful wife, I feel like I'm always a part of it."