Potpourri, Mooninites and Chacarero Virgins

Lite Brite, Night Brite, Attack of the Mooninites!

While everyone else is blogging the Mooninites, Mayor Menino, the apparent lamitude of the Greater Boston area, and about what happened when I showed up at Sullivan Square Station yesterday (thank you Cartoon Network, Aqua Teen Hunger Force, Turner Broadcasting, and the poor artists who graduated from MassArt.  Actually, scratch the last one.  They didn't know (maybe?).  But like others, who had seen the Bright Line guerilla advertising scheme elsewhere, apparently the BoPo Bomb Squad had not), I am proud to say that those two artists were, strangely, arraigned at Charlestown District Court, the first court of the western hemisphere.  They (who they is... is to be determined) should probably have got their permitting down, though.  That's the lawyer in me talking.  And oh yeah, the other creatures wreaking havoc on earth...

No worries, people, the T is apparently safe.

But apparently, there's at least one laughing survivor of the "attacks." 

And I said I wasn't going to blog about this!

Bankruptcy Apparently Pays... says the Globe

I can't comment too much about Malden Mills' bankruptcy, but I guide you here: Bankruptcy Pays Well.

Chacarero Virgins

Ok, enough grunting about bright lites and bankruptcy.

Yesterday, I got Chacarero for lunch.  Not much different than any other day.  I estimate that I blow around $1050 a year on chacarero sandwiches.

If you've been to Chacarero, right outside the old Filene's, you know that it's kind of like being in an episode of Seinfield.  You order at one window, then you line up and pick up at another.  The lines follow the old curb cut that used to be I street that I don't even know... Then, you respond to the Chilean workers.  You great them.  You say "please" and "thank you" and nod and grin.  You don't deviate from this pattern.  Never.  Just respond "Yes, please, everything please, thank you..."

But of course, there were two obvious chacarero virgins in line.  I couldn't help but laugh, at least inside.  First, there was this fairly attractive black woman, probably my age, who ordered right in front of me.  She kept on messing up the line.  People showed signs of confusion.  I wanted to just embrace her and let her know that she was doing everything wrong.  So wrong.

Then, there was the dude who was standing behind me.  I think once I busted out my blackberry for work, he thought he should just start talking to me and asking me questions.  Now, I shouldn't be surprised.  I always attract the talkers, and get propositioned.  But this dude was annoying.  No, I don't know many calories might be in the sandwich.  Yes, I've been coming here for a while.  Uh, no, I don't think that I want your number.

I did want the black woman's number, though.

Some actual, hot chileans?  I think so.  It's summer down there right now...

Job Alternatives...?

Oh wait: "they" suggest I try this job:

Beer brewer

Piven my Pivens

Me and Mark's favorite Entourage male actor made some wicked crazy Liberace remarks.  It reminds me when I thought, as a kid, Liberace's name was pronounced "Lye-ber-ACE."  Nice to know what my friends think about me when they forward me newsclips on Jeremy Piven.

 

Comments

[Matt and Mike]

Piven is an ass, but he is a hot ass!

[neal]

Blasphemy!

[nanio]

Piven's an ass.