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Yesterday I told you that I might regale you with stories of tap dancing today, but instead I’m going to take this special you-and-me moment to remind you that there’s no time like the present for rioting, wilding or engaging in senseless acts of heat-wave sex. It’s currently 217 degrees but it feels like 312, and tomorrow it’s likely to not break the upper two hundreds, so you best get on it. Catch rainbows in mason jars tomorrow! For today, there is only wearing gauzy, filmy, barely there clothing, melting ice cubes on your nubile flesh while bad ’80s music blares in the background and unleashing urban hostilities. Unless none of that interests you, in which case there’s always comedy show Drink at Work. Staying hydrated is important, people!

Perhaps tomorrow I’ll tell you about the time I made my coworkers take a tap dancing class with me!

How’s it hanging, my sweet kadota figs? Enjoying the heat? I’m not, but then that’s because I’m a human being, not an iguana, camel, dromedary, lizard or anteater (the previous is the result of my turning to my coworkers and asking, “What’s an animal that likes the heat?” Michael misheard me though and thought I said, “What’s an animal that likes to eat,” hence anteater) and so I do better in temperate climes than in this inferno wrapped in a fire doused in a blaze sitting on a hellmouth that I call Tenth Avenue. (more…)

Good afternoon, my precious fiddlehead ferns. After yesterday’s excoriating indictment of my desk at my very own hands I decided to spend some time today cleaning it. And don’t think the fact that you could care less is lost on me, because I feel it. I’m just carrying on anyway because I’m my own copilot, you know?

Now then. It’s come to my attention that not only is it Friday, which is weird since it hardly feels like a Friday, but that you need some hot plans. Why don’t you head on down to the South Street Seaport, Pier 17, say, around 7pm, for Fujiya & Miyagi, whom you may remember from March, when we tried to send you to see them but it just wasn’t happening. Tonight it’s happening. And then go here for some hot bear-on-bear action.

Salutations, my little zucchini flowers. My desk is closing in on me but that’s really nothing you should concern yourself with, seeing as my inability to keep my workspace neat and orderly is between me and the fire hazard. Okay, what the fuck is going on? Everyone around me is whispering! I’m getting paranoid. Good thing they can’t get to me behind this extra sturdy desk fortification. If only I had rearview mirrors on my computer. And a seatbelt for my computer chair. I already wear a helmet, but that’s just good sense. And good fashion. And court ordered.

So I suppose you’re waiting around for today’s hot plans and I’m not one to disappoint. Why don’t you take yourself to Equal, That Is, to the Real Itself. And then why don’t you watch Ethan and my 1 Thing vlog. It’s vlogtastic and vlogpendous and vlogriffic and vlogderful and we talk about the art show I just recommended!

“I see a troll doll or Fraggle Rock, and I’m scared,” said one of the revelers, after gobbling a bunch of acid.

Aloha, my tropical coconuts—tomorrow is the day when people explode all kinds of loud crap in the air as a stream of urine gently runs down my leg. Actually, that’s not quite true. I’m okay with the big fireworks spectaculars—not to be confused with the terror spectaculars of which we’ve been warned. I find them disagreeably loud but I’ll admit they’re pretty. It’s the firecrackers that bad teenage boys who ride skateboards like to light that freak me out. Are those legal here? I don’t even know, I just know that I don’t like them!

But all that is tomorrow. For tonight you’ll be headed to Dick Swizzle’s Sudden Death Game Show because the name Dick Swizzle cracks me up and you like things that crack me up.

THIS JUST IN: Should you find yourself near a television set at say 2am Eastern or 11pm Pacific tonight do tune in to Red Eye on the Fox News Channel because I’ll be on it and I’ll be talking about stuff so important you’ll kick yourself forever plus infinity if you miss it. You may now return to googling yourself. Thank you.

Is one allowed to blog from jury duty? They didn’t give us any instruction on the matter, so I’ll assume it’s okay until I’m told otherwise. So here I am, Day One. I just sent an e-mail to my podmates updating them about the excitement nonpareil (that’s excitement made out of chocolate and rolled in those hard little white balls) that was this morning when it dawned on me that perhaps you, the judiciary-minded readership, would like to also be in the loop. And so you shall! Here is the e-mail, lovingly reprinted for your punitive ease. Am I just throwing legal-sounding terms around? You bet your fiduciary I am! Now recuse this legislation and make it gubernatorial, prosecution!

Here is the e-mail:

Hi! I’m at jury duty. I watched a filmstrip about the judicial process and learned that in olden times they used to stick a person’s hand in boiling water and if it healed, they were innocent. I think this is one of the suggested methods. Now I’m sitting in cramped room near a watercooler, so I have to move out of the way when anyone tries to get by. I had a plum seat earlier but I accidentally forfeited it when I went to the bathroom. Apparently, leaving my pen and copy of Time Out didn’t adequately mark it.

Now, I think the most interesting thing here is to note that even out of the office I’m toting the magazine around, as if I myself am an extension of the brand, though Learning Annex has yet to realize this. But really it’s because I was paid a personal visit by Adam Feldman yesterday, who took umbrage with my suggestion that cryptic crosswords were anything other than pure jouissance. Naturally he didn’t present it to me this way; instead he gave me a cryptic-crossword lesson and then offered to go through each clue with me. It certainly seems to have paid off though, because after staring at the puzzle for about an hour this morning I think I figured out exactly one clue. What was I saying? I don’t know, I’m very distracted by the actions of the people around me. Perhaps I’ll get into it in a later post.

Have you been making music with various parts of your body for years now? Are you particularly proud of the things you can do with “Yankee Doodle”? But do the people around you seem to not really get it? Instead of smiles and dates are you greeted with pained grimaces? Almost as if they barely tolerate you? Or worse, they actively dislike you? All artists are ahead of their time, Mozart, but today the planet is really in your wheelhouse and the stars are in your hen house and the Sun and the Moon are smiling on the house of representatives because it’s Make Music New York day! Bring your wax comb and empty raisin box!

WAIT WAIT WAIT!!!!!!!!!!!! It appears that I was hasty in my appraisal of the situation. Sorry, sailor. This is a citywide free music fest involving music made by other people. Although you just know there’s a hippie noisemaking circle somewhere that you can drag your jug basin to. Just follow the corn nuts.

So I never ever post here anymore however I was googling myself tonight and don’t pretend you don’t do it too because you so do and anyway I found this clip of Best Bets from WNBC’s Weekend Today in New York. This is exciting because usually the clips online are from weekday shows or other channels where I’m a little less free-ranging than I am on Best Bets which is the segment I do weekly at a quite early time.

I now blog over here, on the new TONY blog. And yes, I just used blog as a verb.