Sifting the Pix!

Hi friends and friends and friends: Lucy and I are back from the Honeymoon, we're sifting jillions of pictures and they're accumulating over at Lucy and Mick's World Wide Wed
If you've got something to share, please drop us a line or post your pictures to the Flickr Group I set up for this exact purpose!

Thanks and LOVE to everybody!

come on over!

New posts on Lucy and Mick's Wed Site, folks! It's the Honeymoon update from Belize!

taste of thai bachelor party!

mike and kim
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

My pals Mike and Kim are among the diners and others who made it out for a celebration this past weekend. It was my bachelor party! You know I'm getting married, right?

On Sunday!

Myla Pogue, Robert Deniro and a treatise on the benefits of bumming a smoke

I've been meaning for years to tell this, one of my favorite stories. It's not short, but revel, won't you, in the absolute strangeness that can be found by simply bumming a smoke. (Just for the record: I quit smoking nearly a year and a half ago; I never regret that decision, but the fact remains that grabbing a smoke will always be a quintessential social phenomenon, and I do miss that sometimes.)

In the fall of 2001, I did the unlikely and went on a 7NC with some friends. It was a glorious and weird trip that convened in San Juan, Puerto Rico and took us to a variety of islands and escapades. I've told a story about that before, and could tell a million more. But the best story concerns my trip back from that trip.

I flew from San Juan to Atlanta and had a hefty layover there, which was fine with me—I've been an early laptop adopter (laptopter?) and enjoyer of the airport bar life. Give me a stool and a drink and a smoke and I can sit in an airport for really any amount of time. Only problem was, the carton of Marlboros that I'd bought at the duty-free joint in San Juan was—of course—packed away in my stuff.
Waiting for my flight to LaGuardia (I lived in NYC at that time), I decided that a smoke was imperative, but for obvious reasons, didn't want to buy a pack, so I started watching my bar mates for a likely benefactor. Seeing three women chatting jovially at one table—and smoking—I ambled over to bum one. They were plenty nice, and we talked for a minute. I asked where they were going and I've forgotten where the first two said, because the third woman said, in a thick Southern accent: "I'm going to New York to meet Robert Deniro." Which was fascinating, and mildly thrilling in a vague six degrees way that I'm only a little bit awed by.

Her name, she told me was Myla Pogue, from Pensacola, Florida, and little did I know that the rest of my trip would not be at all what I had expected. She was an actress, she said, and she was dating Robert Deniro, who occasionally had her come visit him in New York. I told her that I was going to LaGuardia as well, and she replied that "Bob" was picking her up at the airport and maybe I could MEET him. "Really…" I said, and sat right down and ordered another drink.

We had a couple, in fact, and ended up semi-shambling onto the plane after "LAST CALL, LAST CALL FOR FLIGHT ____" had rang out in the terminal for a little too long. It was a rather late flight, and we weren't due into Brooklyn until 12:45pm. The plane was also only about half full, so when Myla suggested that I sit beside her, I thought "sure, why not for a little while?" I like my private airplane time, but I assumed that I could bail to another row at any point.

Myla was a piece of work. Semi-drunk and much more excited than I had initially realized about her impending rendezvous with "Bob," she was a non-stop stream of blather. After, that is, she jumped up and ran to the bathroom, right as the plane was taking off. When she came back, over the substantial protests of the flight attendents, she was, ah, a little sniffy, if you ask me, and had much to say about her life, how she and DeNiro had met, and—most shocking—what her family thought of him.

And that, kind reader, is where we shall pick up next time.

* (2/10/2009) I've had a number of comments here that run from vindictive to supportive of my story and its centerpiece. It has never been my intention to defame the woman in my story. I just tell true stories from my life. But out of respect for my subject, I've changed her last name and deleted all comments that reference her by last name. I'm sorry that I couldn't just edit the comments, but since that is technically impossible in Blogger, I had to delete some of them. Also, I deleted the hurtful ones that seemed to be somebody grinding an axe, with no reference to my writing.

WRFL's Trivial Thursdays! Mick and Emily

WRFL's Trivial Thursdays! Mick and Emily
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

Ever listen to our long-running morning radio show? We'd love to have you join us! It's Trivial Thursdays on WRFL-FM in Lexington, KY! We're on from 7-9am every Thursday, and you can even listen online anywhere on earth!

Keeping Coffee

This is the story of keeping coffee warm. It is a story with many twists and turns, but we shall strive to simplify, simplify.

The story begins years ago with a fabulous device sold at Toddy Coffee. I bought one because Jenny Toomey said it was great, and I think Jenny's great and so her coffee must be, too. And wow, was that an understatement! I mean, just take a look at the specs. I don't know what the easiest thing is to call this coffee that has so completely engrained itself into the Campsie Lifestyle; I guess "cold-brew" is the most accurate term. Lucy and I enjoy this coffee nearly every single day of our lives. It's that good.

The only issue (and there is always an only issue, right?) is keeping it warm. First there was the thermos, a vintage Aladdin just like this one. But that seemed somehow clunky and inelegant, although it was effective, heat-wise. Next, was the Ebay foray into acquiring a beautiful vintage West Bend Thermo-Serv, which was elegant and cool, but didn't keep the coffee warm enough long enough. Curses!

Now, friends, we come to the salvation.

While recently dining at Perkin's Family Restaurant, former employer of my daughter, Lucy and I both fixed our eyes on the wonder of their table-top coffee pitchers. They were vintage. They were institutional. They kept the coffee pipin' hot! I had to have one. I asked our server if I could buy it. She laughed. They were not for sale. She said "no." And then she laughed some more. Not to be deterred—hell, I could always steal one, right?—I took it to the counter when we left and sat it down with my bill and asked the cashier if I could buy it. She, too, said "no," but she didn't laugh. In fact, when I pressed the point, she kind of snarled. So I stepped back.

As we were leaving, darling daughter Lauren visits with some former co-workers and comes out to tell me that Jackie, the manager said that I could have one, if I'd just call next week when he was scheduled to order some new ones. JOY!

I dutifully telephoned on the appointed day and missed him. Called back the next day and he said "call back next week." And thus began a fairly complicated game of phone tag. I wondered whether or not this was going to pan out. I had to have that coffee server. It was going to change everything.

And now I've got it. Today, I called and Jackie said to come on out. Today, I'm kind of busy, so I said 'how's tomorrow for you?" Jackie said: "Oh, tomorrow I'm going to Florida for a week."

Fine. No problem. I'll be there in…in…hell, I'm coming right over."
And I did. And here you see the fruits of my labor. Things are really gonna start lookin' up for me and Lucy now that we've got this new coffee pitcher. Oh, they most definitely are…

Eames Curb Find!

So the other day, I was driving along in my old neighborhood and totally found an Eames Ottoman sitting on the curb. What kind of people throw out an Eames Ottoman?

Of course, you could argue, "What kind of people pick up a dank orphaned foot rest?"

Guilty as charged!

Wedding updates!

A little bird says there's much activity over at Lucy and Mick's World Wide Wed, feathered friends and fiends!

And things are happening at The Campsie Project, too!

is this so wrong?

is this so wrong?
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

Sure, it looks all wrong. But what really is the problem?

As a certified master of succulent plants like Jades and such, I'm going to give away one secret, then another.

The first secret: Bottom Watering is ideal. The succulents seem to prefer sucking up the good ole H2O from below, so I'm constantly filling tubs and pots that I can set my plants in for a nice soak. Secret #2: Well, check out the picture.

I think that most all houses have at least one persistent standing body of water that any succulent plant would think is just fine. Hell, the dog likes it good enough. (disclaimer: Oscar is not nor has he ever been a toilet drinker. Not that I know of. Not that I could prove.)

Help Wanted: Jet-setting hotel deejay.

Stéphane_Pompougnac is kind of my hero. Well, if not "hero," then trajectory model. This is the guy who puts together these Hôtel Costes mix compilations that are apparently the product of his affiliation with the ultra-snobby Paris hotel. Think I'm kidding? look at their incredible lack-of a web site. A sure sign of snobbiness is having a sparse non-web site, I assure you.

What does it take to be a hotel music guru? I would like the opportunity to find out and be compensated accordingly.

Laryngitis?

I thought that was something you only got on TV.

I have mild laryngitis. Can you imagine the effect on somebody that likes to talk as much as I do? People calling on the phone: I cannot answer. I can't even leave a greeting saying "I have laryngitis. Please email me." I tried to leave a message, whispering, on somebody's voice mail and it just cut me off!

So when I say, "I can't talk about it," I'm not kidding. I've actually had to cancel appointments today.

Mardi Gras Lexington 2006 Pix are up!

mardi gras cowgirl princess
Originally uploaded by mrtoastey.

We had a fabulous time this year, of course…

If you weren't there, check out some pix from the 3rd Annual Lexington Mardi Gras Parade, brought to you by a lot of cool people and one super cool dance studio and a rare-form collective.

Click on the Mardi Gras Cowgirl to see the entire set on Flickr.

Where's my right-hand megastore?

Things ain't looking so good from my morning trip to the 'Burbs.
I try to stay away from there, but I'm as much of a megastore shopper as anybody. The thing is—I know I got my dog food somewhere before Petsmart, but where? Okay, I didn't really go to PetSmart. (and I'm certainly not going to link to them.)

But there's this new thing that I had to try: Bought some blank DVD's at BestBuy.com and specified in-store pickup. 'Cause, y'know, I've got 30-plus blank DVD's but I need 50 more, right now… especially since P2P may get sued out of existence soon. I've got to get the entire Planet of The Apes oeuvre downloaded, right?

By the way, late morning is definitely the best time to cruise into suburban hell, I confirmed. Lots of people are either safely tucked away in their workplaces, or maybe they're at home planning the big afternoon foray to the mall.

So there's this quickie mart out there, and there's a sign out front that says "Red Bull in stock, or yours is free!" Excuse me? What a fabulous tribute to the brain-rotting effects of too many Raging Bulls, eh? Just tell me where to go to get my free Red Bull that you don't have in stock!

Next up, could it be a new Walgreens? Sure, pard'ner! One of the great surreal late-night spots (just visit any Walgreens at 3:30am and not see some kind of weirdness, while toe-tapping to the most neutralizing muzak mixture ever to dribble into your ears). The thing is, this sign: "Coming Soon! Walgreens!" is about a hundred yards down from—wait for it—a Walgreens. I guess this ones going to be even super-er than its predecessor.

I have to take my fair share of the blame for this bloat. Fleeing back downtown, I privately lamented the lack of a mega-grocery on the right-hand side of the road; Because I coudn't be bothered to —you know—turn left to go to the mega-Krogers and just rolled on by.

Am I Working in a Department Store?

Sometimes I feel like I'm working in a department store.

It's all this damned techno that I listen to. Actually, I'm typically at home working in my pajamas; But by the sound of it, you'd think I was working in some windowless cubicle at Barney's or something. I can't figure it out—You know the old saw: "Television will rot your brain;" Personally, I'm more concerned about Hotel Costes, Cafe Del Mar, and a jillion other fluff electronica series that I —for some reason—continue to put on as my work soundtrack. The other day, I was on the verge of apologizing to Lucy.

If you're married and/or work at home, you could find yourself in the same boat: "Honey, I'm sorry about all the electronica…"

Truth be told, there is a reason, or at least, an excuse: I'm gradually aspiring to be a snobby art gallery DJ. With some success, too. So I act like I have to listen to this stuff, y'know, to keep up. I'm still embarrassed sometimes.

One of the finest (non-electronic) tracks last year was The New Pornographers' "Sing Me Spanish Techno." Now, nobody knows what Carl Newman is talking about at any given moment; even he claims the lyrics are frequently non-narrative. But I like to think that song refers to a couple of friends: One hates techno, the other loves techno. His favorite (of late—because it's always 'of late') is Spanish techno, in particular. His techno-hating friend is put out over the fact that all techno sounds roughly the same and —it's not even music, right?— issues the challenge: "Okay. Sing me 'Spanish techno.'" Exactly.

Somebody get me an electric guitar, quick.

full disclosure: this post written while "grooving" to the sounds of Man Ray Vol. 4

Good Day, Sir/Madam…

Woot is the hilarious "one day, one deal" site where there is ONE THING for sale every day. Each day, a different thing. The real charm of Woot, though, is the spectacular copy-writing each day for the particular deal. Somebody has a great deal of fun with this (actually sometimes extending to an ad-hoc song connected with the product).

This one made me laugh out loud today, as virtual art imitates virtual con-artistry—a parody of the myriad of "help transfer my fortune out of [insert destabilized African country] and you'll be handsomely rewarded" emails.

Have a read, have a laugh and check back daily for more Woot fun!

You Fortune Awaits…

Hey! Here's your chance to make a difference in somebody's life, and find your fortune, too. You can do both of these things by leaving your own message in a Fortune cookie, courtesy of Enid's Discovery, a "community-driven artwork" on display at LexArts Gallery in February 2006.

Lucy and Mick's World Wide Wed

Welcome, friends to Lucy and Mick's World Wide Wed!

I just put up this new blog, which is located at lucyandmick.com. This is where all our matrilicious plans will be conveyed to you, gentle reader! Salut!

Bringin' home the Lucite.

Friday night was The Addys, which I admit kind of snuck up on me. By Friday, after 5p, I'm usually ready to hit the couch, and I wasn't exactly wild about the prospect of gettin' fancied up and heading to the Marriott for intense schmoozing… especially consider that the invitation said "black tie" and my attire was…somewhat less than formal. I know enough to know what black tie means, but had my doubts about whether people would actually embrace this. (As the hour approached, I was really mostly interested in conclusive evidence that I wouldn't be the only one who wasn't wearing black tie. At one point, I had this idea to tie a black shoe lace around my middle finger in case anybody asked me where my black tie was.

Anyway—long story short, to quote my brother—I wasn't the only one (though most definitely in the minority), and I won two Addys!

I was looking for an image online of the li'l Addy trophy to illustrate my glory, and was surprised to not be able to find one; But I did find this image from somebody else's Addy victory that was close enough to mine that I got a few laughs out of just "marking it up."

By the way, I had fun— I was worried that it would be a stiff drag, but I forgot that I love to schooze as much as anybody, and did my fair share. My favorite thing (that wasn't me winning a Gold Addy): trying to wheel and deal with a couple of adjacent tables to get them to swap our table a bottle of (gross) blush wine for their seemingly untouched red wine. No dice, but some good laughs.

Congrats to my other KET peeps, who helped the agency take home a decent handful of awards. Also to Elevation Studios, who mopped up the place for a second year in a row.

June 11, 2006!

It's official, friends! Lucy and I are getting married on June 11, 2006, in the glorious heart of the Bluegrass!

More info coming soon!

LMA WLAC - Past Champions

While it is true that I'm at this moment working on a couple of articles for the Kentucky Cattlemen Association, that seemingly coincidental activity does not diminish the fact that auctioneering is one of the greatest and strangest abilities of human beings. And I found a web site where you can hear audio of World Livestock Auctioneer Champions for the last 30 years. If you're looking for a little pick-me-up, this is it, pardner!