A real fool that gets paid to talk to strangers in the street.

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Wednesday, March 17, 2010

St. Patrick's Day 08

I'm not in NY.
I'm in LA now. 
There is a tear in midtown for me pouring out of a Guinness tap.  There are 25 girls from Long Island with no one to talk to, because I'm in LA about to start my night.  Although I miss the tradition I started.  I missed the parade and bagpipes this year.  My grandfather would be proud of me though.  I'm making moves, and shaking this town up like a girlfriend that's too drunk to drive home. 

as a homage I give you an experience, my experience of New York City for St. Pat's.  Enjoy. 

http://www.livethelushlife.com/content/saint-patricks-2008

Thursday, March 11, 2010

G Chat W/ Rob.

1:28 PM me: did you get laid?
 Robert: In Hawaii?
  Absolutely not
1:29 PM failure
 Robert: I decided to get a tattoo.
1:31 PM me: really?
   Robert: Yes
it's a map of the Philippines and the national sun and stars
 
me: Awesome.
  I'm getting the name of that girl you dated tatooed on the bottom of my feet so I can walk all over her.
 Robert: I love you, Matt McManus
  both platonically, and homoerotically

30 minutes
2:03 PM me: you ever put both a girls nipples in your mouth?
 Robert: like squeeze them together and just stuff em in?
 me: yea
 Robert: yeah
  why?
2:04 PM me: what's that called?
2:08 PM Robert: Awesome

2:11 PM me:when I come back to NY this summer with a mobile blowjob machine that I invented, and a shirt that says. "I can blow my self, thank you." We are gonna throw a party in the brandy library and then do a Mock circle jerk in central park where it says, "Imagine".

2:21 PM me: if you found out you were going to die, and you were gonna bang a dude, would you use a roller skate wheel to stretch out your but hole, to train it?
 Robert: that's a ridiculous question
2:22 PM you're supposed to use a flashlight.




Saturday, March 6, 2010

Three.

If I was to look at my life right now years ago, the definition of life would have changed for me.

I've spent years doing a lot of different things.  I was a buss boy when I was 15 and by the time I was 17 I was bartending.  I planted my feet behind one bar, stocking beer, wine, glasses, ice.  I listened to conversations and developed a habit for giving others booze.  I was always secondary.  I went from one bar on Long Island, to a club on Long Island, to Manhattan.  I started in a bar called the SOHO House, which was a private members only club for the rich, famous, and up and coming in both.  I parlayed that into other jobs, then management.   I ran bars in the West Village when I was 25 and in charge of 15 21-year-old women, or girls I should say.  New York City keeps girls, girls but turns them into women, quick.

All the while I worked behind these bars I had my dreams in my tip cup.  I was selfish.  I am selfish.  That must end.  I always wanted to make people laugh.  I do that effortlessly.  I always wanted to see smiles.  I do so effortlessly.  I have a background that would prove otherwise, but regardless of the hands I’ve been dealt I’ve always kept playing.  Honestly, to this day I still don’t know how to play poker…really.

I’ve been on stage a million times in my life, but really probably like 300 times.  That’s a lot of lights.  That’s a lot of applause.  That’s a lot of blowjobs, and that makes me smile. 

All the while my family stood by me.  They called when I didn’t answer to leave me words of encouragement and love.  My siblings though imperfect in their ways, just like me, are perfect.  They were dealt the same hand I was handed, and smiled because they wanted to, needed to. 

Perhaps it’s the fact that St. Patrick’s Day (my favorite day of the year) is around the corner.  Perhaps it’s the fact that my hair is red and my last name starts with Mc.  Perhaps it’s because the last four letters of my last name are anus.  Who knows?  But we always smiled and laughed.  We all have new reasons to smile and laugh now.

Three, three, count em, three little girls are in our lives and we didn’t steal them.  The stork didn’t drop them off.  Each one of my three siblings have either given birth or contributed genetically to a birth in the last 4 months.  Isabella Rose was born yesterday at 1:34 PM.  Madailein was born just after the New Year, and Abby was born just before I departed NY.  I waited there for her, for this.  I wanted to bear witness to the thing that would go on to become the “things” that changed my family for the better.

And here I am in Los Angeles CA, after all these years of laughter and everything else that comes along with it, writing about definition of life, because it has changed for me. 

Life is about learning.  It’s about hearing a conversation from behind the bar and wondering why the words, “Yea I smelled the floor in that place…Amazing,” even were spoke, and smiling as you go on stocking glasses and filling ice trays, beer.  It’s getting home at three in the morning and looking at pictures of your NEICES and being crippled by the responsibility of the fact that they exist, and loving every second of it.  It’s about waiting for the person you let into your world/heart getting back into town and sharing a bottle of wine.  It’s about listening, with all your senses, wholeheartedly.  It’s about being told you’ve been acting like a dick and telling the people under you to do something, rather than asking them.  Everything comes back around.

Here I am 29 years old, working for the SOHO house in West Hollywood, CA.  A place I vowed never to move to, because I love NY so much.  Well now I can say with an honest heart; I miss my family, more than ever, but LA’s fucking rad.

Life is about change.  The greatest of change is that of new life.  I have three new lives in my life, and I can’t wait to spoil them.   I still have my dreams.  I still have my Tip cup.  Most of all I still have my family, and they were there since day one.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Love Letter.



I’ll say this.  I miss New York City.  I miss the way the street looks at 3 A.M. when you’re the only one on it in Chinatown.  I miss jogging over the Brooklyn Bridge and getting a sip of water in City Hall Park.  I miss being a lunatic and no one caring.  Every time you turn a corner in Manhattan you know every one and no one at the same time.  You loose your own identity in that city, because you become a part of that city.  From Spanish Harlem in the Summer with Hip Hop blasting all around, to glasses clinking in the West Village, to bottles breaking in Washington Square park.  I miss my favorite street and how it always changed.  Every day there was a new store on it or a new beer on tap, or a new bum,  or new student at NYU. 

You see the new kids on the block in NY and you wonder what the years will do to them.  They could go from Ivy League graduates to busboys.  I’ve seen that happen.  They could go from busboys to media moguls.  I’ve seen that happen.  They could take one bite of a NY winter and call it a day.  They could walk through Bryant Park in June and find the love of their life, or their favorite view of anything.  They could get a ticket for public urinations and loose their teaching license.  I’ve seen that happen.

I saw Casablanca in a park at night drinking wine, a bum wipe her but on the street with a sweatshirt left outside a Salvation Army.  I saw money, lots of it, and ate ramen noodles, lots of them.  I ate Brooklyn up like a girlfriend that’s been away at war.  I held the buildings in NY in my hand like we were lovers.  I rode the train and sighed every time I saw downtown, because I am NY.  I tormented myself on purpose running in a hamster wheel only getting off to tie my shoes and pound the pavement.  That pavement was always there though.  I could always count on it, and it could always count on me. 

I had conversations with New York that I’ve never had with God, my parents, or a girlfriend.  I’ve cried from every emotion at some point all because New York was there listening and waiting for me to give and take from it. 

You could leave your apt at 7PM when you didn’t feel like going out, and come back $1000 bucks richer and with the name and number to the person you could very well either kill, or marry, and everything in between.

And so after seven years, three girlfriends, Two apartments, about 35 pounds, 9 jobs,  700 cups of coffee, god only knows how many shots of Jack Daniels, 5 wardrobes, 47 hair cuts, infinite sandwiches, countless embraces (both good and bad), 200 packs of Parliament Lights, one staff infection, two commercials, 35 shows, two summers of fame, tears, beers, and about 100 movie stubs, I was out like Bud Light on dollar beer night. 

Does New York City hate me?  You bet your ass it does.  It’s hated me all along, and I love it for that.  That’s the point.   You ever fight with a significant other but it feels good?  Like the argument might change your relationship for the better, and then you have make up sex?  That’s what it’s like with that city except you can change the world for the better via that city, and the make up sex is better than anything every written or documented.  When NYC talks back to you, or pats you on the back you don’t feel it in your wallet, you don’t feel it on your back.  You smell it on the street.  It winks at you by blinking lights telling you to cross the street.  It’s the feel of The Post in your hand.  It’s the smell of Indian food on the Street.  It’s getting drunk and calling your friends outside a bar in winter with your breath and your dreams meeting up in the air to “talk it out.” 

It’s New York.
I left with a pocket full of question marks.
I’m coming back with a fist full of periods.

G Chat about boobs and Casimiro

me: tits.
James: yo,  aren’t those something?
  if you had to see them every day they would drive you nuts
especially if the girl was always touching you and pushing them together around you
me: that's why I've given up on tits.
  I'm an ass man now.
 James: If they were around you every day you'd lose it
  I don’t care what you say you are
  It’s IN you
 me: completely
I would jerk off everywhere.
 James: "Michael, my blood is in your veins"-Lost Boys
 me: I wouldn't even let her jerk me off
 James: haha
 me: I would HAVE to please myself.
 James:  I don’t even know what that means but man its funny.
 You mean they drive you so nuts you’d have to control it?
 me: yes, because I've been on the internet so many times looking for those.
  and if I actually found them, I would have to look at them in person.
James: Matt, we are on the same page in life
this is all I have been thinking about
James: What a great assessment
 
 James: I'm trying to get Casimiro to clean this up
I’m encouraging him to bang this girl
me: if he doesn't he’s garbage.
 me: If you really wanted to fuck Casimiro, you would.
 James: I dreamt of him last night
 me: what happend.
 James: it was all a blur
  but he was dressed very well
 me: he usually does.
  I curse the day that girl broke his heart.
  but it makes for some interesting conversation.
James: He bangs other chicks
me: how many?
 James: maybe 2 since then
  including her best friend
 me: does he moan?
 James: He grunts
 me: I bet the hair on the back of his head gets sweaty.
 James: when he comes he goes "aaah" instead of "oooh:
like he's in pain instead of enjoying it
 me: he has a towel, clean, close to the bed.
 James: he's great at aftertalk
 me: and post sex food.
me: I gotta go to the diner they shot pulp fiction in for lunch.
  have a good talk later.