New look. New feel. New name. Please visit and let him know what you think.

So I decided to grant them an eternal life and appreciation, here in my blog. The first 2 are birthday cards from Joan and from Steff's and Cliff's kids. I don't believe they'll come up readable, thus I'll translate.

The Kid's hand made the card and I find it very touching, it says:

Joan’s, incrusted with relief diamonds, continues on the inside:

"Well, actually I was thinking about me
but once I was on the subject of fabulous things
I thought of you next.

Have A Fantastic Birthday!"

Facing the need of doing nothing too, I decided to lit some candles and to take a bath with sea salts. Think about it, how often do you have the luxury of time to fill up the bathtub and soak for ½ hour? In fact I prepared a hot water with the special salts that Joan gave me, lit few candles, with a glass of wine, and relaxed to the narrated but unabridged version of “The Turn of the Screw” by Henry James. Upon cooling of the water I used the “Egyptian Goddess Skin” scrub and I can’t begin to tell you how good I felt at once. Entirely relaxed and smooth with fresh spirit uplifted.

The “Egyptian Goddess Skin” is in fact a “Body Coffee” product. The front of the box says – “Invigorating body polish. Dead Sea salt. Coffee Arabica.” In my opinion everyone should indulge in trying it. Joan and I named it “Egyptian Goddess Skin” after a story. One day she had came out of the shower and exclaimed “Baby, feel my skin! This thing is amazing,” I, urged like this, hurried to feel but couldn’t see the difference; Joan continued in her exaltation “my skin feels like and Egyptian Goddess,” and I thought “oh, whatever!” The story ended here till one day I was out of soap and decided to try the scrub – it felt salty, scrubby, oily and pinchy. Afterwards the tub was slippery but wait till you hear me after I dried my self up – I felt my skin on my left hand with my right and immediately rushed out of the bathroom screaming “BABY, BABY MY SKIN FEELS LIKE AN EGYPTIAN GODDESS!” Ever since that’s how we call it.

For more information you can visit www.bodycoffee.com (that is an unpaid commercial).

After pleasantly celebrated Christmas Eve and Day, on the 26th - Monday - we went to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. Kate came to pick me up around 8:30am and we departed the quiet Cape to replace it with the busy City. I'm the king of getting lost in Boston and I suppose I menage to do it even when I'm not driving. Paul, Kate's son, concluded that it was my bad luck that got us lost. When elaborating on the subject, however, I think it is Boston, not me. See the thing is… driving through Boston always contains tons of interwoven streets, roads and avenues, what gets me are the innumerable highway exits. I call it "the eternal New Hampshire threat," you make one little mistake and the curse is allover you - cars honking, sweat running down your crack, intimidation and paranoia, and then the worst of it - you are on the interstate for NH. But then again, there is the "Angel of the lost," I always, somehow miraculously, end up on the right place.

Kate and Paul had tickets for Ansel Adams (A master of Black and White) but it had sold out so I couldn't get in. we parted and I wandered away with the general admission. I started with Tibet and China, then Egypt, I had just made it in ancient Rome when they called and joined me. We revisited my track and I gave them the highlights of my journey so far.

We broke for lunch at the restaurant in the museum - fancy, fancy place. After leisure luncheon, for about 40 bucks a piece, exhausted and reluctant we returned back to the exhibits. Despite our tiredness we dove right back at it. Up until that point I had not seen any pictures but then I saw an entire hall devoted to the Cubists and that was it for me. I was examining every single piece, reading thoroughly the descriptions; I spent extensive amount of time on Pablo Picasso, and I was most impressed wit the Bull and the reduction of the Bull.

We were wining down when I saw it - the boy with the squirrel - I saw a portrait of my self when I was sixteen. I couldn't help it but to ejaculate "Guys it me!" Kate and Paul seemed to not be impressed with the resemblance so I had no choice but to approach the picture and stick my head in front of it, imitating the innocent face of the boy from 1765. The effect was stunning; Kate was laughing so hard that she had to step away and sit down. We spent quite some time evaluating the similarities and the dissimilarities such as "the eyes, the lips and the jaw line are very similar but the nose and the fingers are too refined and the ear is definitely not mine."

I'll have you judge for yourself:

I don't know how much more time we had spent there but soon after we left Kate suggested that we hurry off to the gift shop. I didn't wanna go but apparently she had something in mind. We were in the gift shop for only 5 minutes when, as Kate calls them, "the ugly lights went off." I knew that she was plotting something so I stepped out. She came out with a gift bag and said, "here, happy Hanukah," and handed me the bag. It was a reproduction of John Singleton Copley's "Henry Pelham (Boy with a Squirrel) 1765"

Milen:
Sorry. I just couldn't resist getting you this.
Ron L.

You can open the packages with me by clicking HERE.

Speaking of Ron's generosity, in august he took us all to see the "Phantom of the Opera" on Broadway. He had gotten 8 forth-row tickets - The chandelier flew above our heads and almost caught Joan's hairdo; I could conduct the band, we were that close to the stage.

The second Deuce Bigalow (European Gigolo) had just came out. The entire city was covered with posters and an enormous billboard of the movie on Time Square. May be a month prior to that various, random people had started telling me that I look like him and I grew increasingly disturbed. I had the longish curly hair and everything. When I told them about my struggle with Deuce, Ron got a total kick out of it. He kept on giggling every time we passed by anything with Deuce, and let me tell ya - Deuce was literally on every corner of the city, every buss station etc. The image was haunting me; I even kicked one of the buss station posters at some point. I insisted however that I'm way handsomer!!! Regardless, I thing that the inevitable resemblance hugely contributed to my change of hair back to short.

I was on the guest list and was allowed a "+ 1." I invited Omar to join me. It was a formal dress code, not a tuxedo formal but a dress-up formal. We arrived at Villa Victoria unfashionably late - the event starting around 8:00pm and we made it about 11:30pm. Sure I had to work that day and drive to Boston afterwards, but still. I was hopping that no one would notice or care, but alas we saw Carl at the door and the first words he said were "hey, how are you? You guys are late!" Couple of other friends of Carl, who were also part of the organizers, noticed our late arrival too. And finally, if I'm not mistaken George said something about it as well.

I was utterly impressed with the place. It is a beautiful building on the outside as well as inside and it was decorated amazingly well - everything was white, from tablecloths to Christmas trees, garlands and ornaments. I loved the fact that everyone, almost to the last person, had dressed properly. The best part was when we saw the stage covered with toys, pilled up to the ceiling. Everybody had to bring 5 unwrapped toys. I loved the atmosphere; everyone was in such an uplifted mood of festivity and benevolence. I suppose that's why I kept on saying, "I feel so benevolent," and I thing that people didn't find it funny, but you know me, I always have to say something insane over and over again, otherwise it wouldn't be me, would it.

I was surprised to find that the event provided an open bar. I don't know if it was the suit or the seriousness of the place but I didn't feel like taking full advantage of the open bar or I was just too busy mingling. I behaved on few beers, nothing embarrassing, for once - LOL. I left the "disgrace of open bar" to other people (I'm definitely not mentioning names). You know, the mumbling, the lack of coordination and the untactful comments and questions. I'm ought to mention that the music was span by Richie Rich, he is the best DJ in New England I think. I actually saw a lot of people I know and had great time talking to them; it seemed though the night flew by in 20 minutes. The very end was the time that most of the people I knew had gathered together, everybody with a fair buzz and dancing. The best music was at the end and it was a regretful adjourning.

Next day, on Sunday, was my work Christmas party. This is the second year that our regional manger is organizing and sponsoring a Christmas party, very nice of him. I never liked the work parties, for various reasons, but given the effort put I felt somehow obligated to honor it. I'm breaking the blog rules talking about work, but that's about a party. Since we were discouraged from bringing spouses I decided that Kate and I would go as a date. I also decided that Kate should do curly hair. She liked the idea but instantaneously rejected it saying, "my hair do not hold curls." I love Kate's signature straight hair but I just thought that it would be a lot of fun to dress up "to the nines" and go to the party. We continued arguing over her hair in the next few days. Kate held the position that there isn't a way for her to work till 3:00pm in Sandwich, go back to Yarmouth and then show up on time - 5:00pm - for the party in Hyannis. We actually went back and forth a lot more, and at the end I seemed to have dropped it. In the mean time, Kate called me, on Saturday, at work to tell me that she is picking up an outfit. I took off for Boston on Saturday, but I was back on time on Sunday to get a hair appointment for Kate. She came to pick me up and said that she wasn't sure if it was worth it; I told her that it's not for the party but it is for a good mood and fabulous memories. We made it just in time for the appointment; it took 1 hour and 15 minutes and the result was fantastic, beautiful, natural curls. We both looked great and had an awesome time.

The trip to NYC contained the usual - book on CD (the Bleachers by John Grisham), first stop in Connecticut McDonald's (Big Mac), coffee and a Snickers bar. Made it in Chelsea, 8th and 18th, in 4.5 hours. Parked at the usual spot. It was 4:30. Jose called asking if I remember how he used to mispronounce my name (ironic in conjunction with a recent entry) and to tell me that he is getting his hair cut before the gym. I met him at the barber and together we walked to my car to find, for my disgust, an orange parking ticked for $65.

Friday night I hung out with Jose and Nick and kept it low key. Saturday was long and eventful. First we went to the Jersey mall so that the boys can renew phones, and other mall doings. Meanwhile I was on the phone giving hourly updates to Kate. The clerk at the Gap was asking Jose whether he is wearing "Fierce" cologne. Jose flattered by the question answered with a story:

         "The other day I was walking on the street, and this woman ran after me, she finally caught up with me and breathing heavily said 'what type of cologne are you          wearing?' Fierce I said. 'I know it's fierce but what's it called?' It's called FIERCE that's the name of it! 'Oh, really?' she said and we both started laughing."

I suppose it takes one to know Jose and to have heard him saying FIERCE in every other sentence to understand the significant laugh this whole story gave me. As soon as I heard it I called Kate thinking - "I'll say: Guess what cologne is Jose wearing? To which she would probably say - aaaahh, I don't know. And then I'll give her few tips such as what's the fist thing that's coming to your mind when I say Jose? What's Jose's favorite word? Etc." In reality, as soon as I said, "you'll never believed it! Guess what's Jose's cologne?" Kate's answer was faster than a lightening - FIERCE - she said and we both exploded in uncontrollable laughter. How scary is that?!?!?!

I continued the daily shopping adventure with Mark. I called Mark and Gary who had recently moved from Time Square to Harlem and are still unpacking. Gary staid home but I met Mark at "Bed Bath and Beyond," the beginning point of an insane home-goods shopping spree. We were looking for few common things - 3-and 6-inch white candles, a plastic mat that goes under the desk to protect the hardwood floor from scratches, some shelving and specific alpha crates, halogen light bulb and, I thing, couple of other tings. I was surprised to find out that there is Staples, Home Depot, Office Depot, and even K mart in Manhattan. I suggested K mart for the candles; although they only had Martha Stewart, the candles at K mart were still the best buy. Somewhere in the middle of the shopping trip we brought up food and started obsessing. Mark suggested some new burger place that we decided didn't have "atmosphere" and under the slogan -"we are looking for atmosphere" we looked around, evaluated for atmosphere, till we picked "Elmo." The place not only had atmosphere but also served the best chicken pot pie - mmmmhhh, delish! I hate to rave about "New York" cuisine but in addition to the food I had the best drink - I don't remember the name of the cocktail but it was definitely a derivative of Mohito - soooooo goood. Mark told me the best story over dinner, a love story. After dinner we continued with the shopping; we shopped till we dropped.

I wasn't planing on going to their house because they were in the middle of box-land but I wanted to say hallo to Gary so we took the metro and went. Nice neighborhood Harlem is. The new apartment is beautiful and spacious, toll ceilings and gorgeous woodwork. Gary was scrubbing, polishing and sweating. They gave me the tour of the house and then we retired for a couple of cocktails and stories. I finally got to see the pictures from Central Park and the Gates. We recollect the story and laughed. I don't know what came upon me but I told them a story that I haven't told anyone and we laughed through tears. That's how I extended my, supposedly, 15-minutes visit to few hours. I then took the metro back to Jersey City - an intense experience. This trip brought back buried memories from my home city and the public transportation - people jammed in the cabin, stench, discomfort, uneasy body positions and yes, LOUD teenagers. I felt overwhelmed. After two connections and an hour of insanity around 11:00pm I made it back to Jersey.

The dynamics at Jose's house had drastically changed. The peaceful atmosphere of the last 2 days was replaced by pre-going-out hysteria. I was late and I felt guilty. Despite the guilt I couldn't help it but to wonder "what's the rush for?" people don't go to the Roxy until 1:30am, at least!

The Roxy. This was my third or forth time and I just never had good time there. Purely circumstantially but a fact. It started good but then around 3:30 I lost interest and wanted to go home and sleep. I sticked around because I wanted to hear Tony spin. He started aruond 2:30 and I thought that he might play the better music later. The main problem was that I was exhausted from runing around the entire day; and the worst part, the blisters - the size of a beer cap on the side of both my heels. I staied thogh - till 5:00am. I suppose it was worh it, I was I "+" on the guest list, after all. I wasn't a primary VIP but a "+" to one; it went Revera + 1 and I was the "+1." LOL.

I slept till noon nexet day, not nearly enough, had coffe at the house with Markus, who had lost everything to Katrina and was staying with Jose till he gets back on his feet and establish him self in NY. He said tha the has to go to the city to buy couple of stuff. Without thinkig I said I'll go with him, I felt compeled to keep him company. Detouching from bed was an extremely dificult task for me. I regreted my compation when I got up on my blistered feet. Never the less I showered, dressed and was ready for action. We actually had great time and I didn't feel that tired or at least not untill I ate. We had late lunch, or early dinner at "the Dish." I have no idea how exactly we did it, but we spent good 6-7 hours in Chelsea. Well, Marcus at least got most of the stuf he wasnted to buy - gloves, hat, 180's and I don't remember what else. Oh, in the mean time we got together with Peter and Ricardo. How could've almost forgotten about the funnes part! Everytime I see Ricardo and Peter we just laugh and laugh forever. I can't think of anyting in particular but we just laugh on everyting.

Marcus and I got back to Jersey City on time for "the wives," watched the show and I passed out. Getting up at 7:00am was hard. The drive home was easy though. On the way back I listened to "The Last Jourer" by Grisham, again.

And my room is decided in a bit lighter arraignment: