Howdy ho, Blogodomes, and welcome to a new segment I like to call “Gross Intake! Things My Dog Tried to Eat Off the Sidewalk in Allston.”


(Past favorites have included: A chicken bone! Poop! A dead rotten sparrow! A cockroach! A used condom! And my personal fave, a pickled sheep foot!)

Our inaugural, first-edition, #1, collectible post is a doozy:

Frozen vomit. Yes. Frozen vomit. It was caked in some snow. Don’t we all love the end of winter break.

For future “Gross Intake!”s, stay tuned right here. The sundry BU kids, indie kids, bums, crazy people, restauranteurs, and freelance artists of Allston are always dumpin’ new and exciting waste on the sidewalk, the garbage men are always failing to pick it up, and Tucker’s stomach continues to be shockingly resiliant.

Listening to: “Another World” – Antony & the Johnsons

Greetings from the heart of the Northeastern Seaboard’s Neverending Blizzard ’08! It’s already put me on postpone for 2 plays this weekend–luckily rescheduling is set to occur. Can’t afford to miss out on writing assignments this month. You know that old carol “Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, etc. etc.”? Yeah, I’m the one who hasn’t got a ha’penny and needs some god-blessing.

Still, I think I’ll always have a Pavlovian joy response to snow days, even when I’ve got no work or school from which to play hooky. Last night Tuck and I holed up at Ryan and Rog’s and watched Mad Men and had Schnapps-spiked hot cocoa, while the snow piled up in drifts over Brookline. The mutt definitely digs the snow–sometimes it even makes him forget his debilitating fear of the Green Line–all old smells covered up, fluffy whiteness belly-high, and the whole world fresh and up for grabs. He leap-runs through deep snow in winter the same way he does through the tide in the summer when I bring him to the beach. I wonder what the beaches must look like now–totally surreal, no doubt. You never really see the image of snow falling on ocean waves.

Today out my bedroom window I saw a scrawny guy standing in a full Santa suit on the sidewalk, just chillin’. A girl walks up to him and–I shit you not–sticks her hand down his woolly red pants. And we’re talking deep–like, grab-the-dude’s-dick-and-flail-it-around-a-bit deep. Santa didn’t seem particularly aroused, but it was hard to read the eyes buried between the beard and hat. I’m telling you man, only in Allston.

Alright, time to go dig out the ol’ car so I can get to Cafenation and get some actual productive freaking writing done. I’ll leave you with an image of what I wish I were doing this fine, snowy evening:

Today was an unusually collectively drunken Friday night in ol’ Rock City. I mean, every Friday night in Allston is collectively drunken, but tonight is one the nutsiest I’ve seen since the BU kids moved back in August. Maybe everyone’s still celebrating election fun? Who knows.

Anyway, having just returned from my jerb–seeing a play, that is (btdubs-Pinter is so badass)–I was not in on the boozelry; but I did get to overhear some singularly classic lines whilst walking Tuck around the block. A sampling:

GUY: …And then I said to her, ‘I may suck at flip cup, but you suck at life.’


DUDE 1: Dude, we’re gonna rage so hard.
DUDE 2: We’re gonna rage SO HARD!
DUDE 3: We’re gonna rage even HARDER, because we know there’s pictures being taken!

…and then my dog tried to eat a condom off the sidewalk. Like I said, classic.


Went to see the Decemberists last night at the Orpheum, which was about exactly as totally amazing as I had hoped it would be. Colin Meloy was in an uncharacteristically jubilant mood, on accounta happy-yay-election-future! It was an experience, watching the swarm of hipsters in the audience slowly learning to square themselves with all this newborn optimism.

Having tossed a life-sized cardboard cutout of Obama into the audience midshow (“He belongs to the people!”), the band closed with “Sons and Daughters,” a sort of let’s-all-run-away-and-build-a-utopia song. It was written smack in the middle of the Dubyah tenure, but now it’s got a whole new color: let’s-all-stay-here-and-build-a-utopia! I was up in the balcony, but I watched Colin call the floor audience onto the stage, where a massive sing-along of the refrain (Here all the bombs fade away) ended the night. I’ll admit, I got pretty choked up. Oooh, someone got it on tape:

OK, OK, I swear I’ll stop with all this Obama mushiness and return to our regulary-scheduled snark n’ bile next post.

I like the sound of that… Snark n’ Bile. That should really be a dog food brand or something.