Drawing the Curtain on 2006

Hello druids. The Monaco 3 are bringing 2006 to a close. What a great year! I can't believe all that we've done, and all we've been through. We are constantly evolving, constantly pushing it, never settling. It's exciting, a little unnerving, but always fun. Can't wait to see what kind of crap we pull in 2007.

We made a trip down to Florida for a week. Nice visit. Cam got the chance to bond with Ta Ta (my Mom) and Pappy (my Dad). She took to them like lineman to pizza. She and Ta Ta were inseprable. Nice to see. K and I appreciated the break.

One week isn't enough. It' takes 2 days to settle in, and the last day doesn't count. So we had 4 days. And those days were filled up with many family parties. All good stuff, but I gotta detox. And I say this on the eve of New Year's Eve.

I wanted to see a ton of people but just couldn't muster the time. A million regrets that I couldn't stay an extra week. Richard, the unconventional one, I'd love to catch up with you in person because it's been too long. Dave, the fan, the hockey player, the always up for everything, I usually see you—but alas, we'll have to do it though pictures. Donna, the doctor, the classmate, I think we'd have a lot to talk about, I've always enjoyed our conversations. Steph B and Steph P, the new moms, let's do keep in touch. Steve, I've always wanted to come by the restaurant and see how the boys are doing.

Had a chance meeting with an old friend at a bar. Kris and I walked in and there were 3 people in the entire place (including the bartender). My friend Chuck was having a chat with the bartender as some drunk lady(?) named Fran kept interrupting them. Kris and I had some serious trouble deciphering her gender. Her voice was lower than mine. And on top of that, she did most of the talking. Spittin words at you. Slurring and gurgling in between gulps of Pabst.
The bartender said the only reason she comes here, is because she's been booted from every other bar. Guess that tells you how good this bar was.

I've come to the conclusion that in order to see everyone I want to see I'll have to move back down to FL. Which isn't out of the question. Nothing is out of the question. My parents are going to be selling their house. I want to buy it. One catch: There is no way I can afford it. It'll cost around $700,000. But I like to believe nothing is impossible, so I'd like to let anyone out there know that I'm looking for ideas to keep the house in the family (after all, my parents designed it) It's right on the Gulf of Mexico in a town called Tarpon Springs. Built on stilts.

Sunsets every night. C'mon who wants to buy a house with me? You'll have to put up most, if not, all of the money.

Conductor Chic

It’s Tuesday and the fuse is short and frayed today. Feel like the tiniest thing is going to set me off. Like a ticking dirty bomb. (Even if I did shower today.)

I gotta really work to reign in the temper. And I have no good reason to feel this way but it’s just got a grip on me right now so, if I sound a little acidic, caustic, toxic, sour, acerbic, corrosive, I dunno, deal with it I guess.

See? I’m so argumentative. I’ve been Ebeneezered, Grinched, Bad Santa-ed.

I forgot to buy my train ticket and it’s gonna cost me an extra fiver to buy it on board. I had all the time in the world to get the dern thing, I just sat in the waiting room and the thought didn’t cross my mind—until I boarded the train. Well there goes X-mas this year for ya. Sorry folks, I spent your gift money on my on-board fare.

Guess that five spot would be MTA’s version of a convenience fee. I’m just glad I can contribute to the silly uniforms they make those poor train conductors wear. Probably the most unflattering ensemble you’d ever see.

Navy plain-ugly-n-straight slacks (you have to call them slacks because pants would be too contemporary). Baby blue pin-striped short sleeve button down with decorative, retard pockets on each breast.

The shirts also come with that extremely stupid shoulder strap thing. You know, the flaps that army generals and safari enthusiasts wear. I suppose, if the train breaks down, they need some way to hitch the conductors up to the head car so the poor saps can pull it the rest of the way.

I haven’t even mentioned the hats. They only word I can come up with is “silly.” And maybe “pitiful.” But the brass “MTA” medallion gives it that real Tonka authenticity. I think you can order the entire kit from traingeeks.com.

I’m just glad I can contribute to the public humiliation of another human being. I just hope they are paid well to endure walking the aisles as a parody of themselves.

If I ran MTA, that’s the first thing I’d change. Yeah, maybe the cars are a little beat up, the seats are lumpy, and the heat doesn’t work, but those poor conductors, they got it bad.

Wow! And just like that, my day got a little better.

Thank ye for the ear.

Can’t Have Too Much ‘Tussin

1:30 a.m. Cam awakens in a coughing fit. She hasn’t been able to doze off for more than 15 minute stretches without her body throwing her into a coughing frenzy. She’s hacking like a career smoker.

Kris comes to the rescue, bottle of Dimetapp in hand. You know the stuff, the sweet elixir, the cascade of berries, the sticky, syrupy potion of goodness Mom always had close by. Cam sucks down a teaspoon and a half, and her coughing quickly calms.

Just before I resume my slumber, I hear. “Oh shit. Oh no. Greg. Oh shit. Oh crap. Greg!”

Annoyed, I answer “Yes, my tulip in the sea of tranquility.” (Which sounded more like “WHAT!?!”)

I gave her adult Robitussin, not the kid stuff.

That’ll clear her up.

I’m serious! I gave her triple the dosage!

She’ll be fine, down a few brain cells, but fine.

What should I do?

Worry.

What if she falls asleep and doesn’t wake up?

Worst thing that’ll happen, she’ll trip for an hour.”

We wound up waking my father, who is a pharmacist, and I spelled the ingredients to him on the phone.

P-H-E

Pheasantonastick?

Yeah, that’s it.

Ok. Don’t worry about that stuff.

G-O-N

Gonnarehainmypants?

Yeah.

That’s no big deal.

T-R-U

Trumpshaironfire?

Yeah.

Oh. Well, she’s probably going to be a little wired.

And she was. She was all coked-up, talking and talking. Pointing. Spinning stories. Telling us her hands were dirty. The coughing fits were over, but sound kept coming out of her mouth.

A Visit from Argentina

And a good morning to you, too. Cool, minimalistic beats of Olaf Dettinger are tickling the ears, ushering in wintertime. 38 degrees. Great brushstrokes of gray and blue stripe the sky. Sun playfully disappearing and reappearing.

Spent a little time with friends this weekend. Started at approximately 5:31 p.m. on Friday when I fulfilled on my final obligation, a website I’ve been working on for two years now. This great albatross around my neck has been released, folks. I celebrated with my partners and two tall Sierra Nevada “Celebration” Ales. Deeeefreakinlicious.

After we wrangled a sitter for Mini-mona, Kris joined us, too. You have to know, by the way, Kris looking lovelier than ever these days. She hasn’t been busier, but the combination of school, work, and Cam have been a tonic for her vitality. You can see the light and fire in her eyes (I haven’t seen it in quite some time). She’s has a sense of purpose and direction, and a sureness about her she never really had. It shows that you gotta follow your passions, it pays dividends.

We caught up with Irene and Ele at Telephone Bar in the East Village. Eleonora Litwinczuk, the 8-syllable wondergirl, was one of my many partners at Ogilvy. She’s from Buenos Aires and was in town on business. She is every bit Latina. Firey, passionate, neurotic, lovable, and quite talented, too. She has impossibly long hair is the color of dark chocolate drizzled with raspberry. Every day, she’d come to work in some amazing ensemble. Her signature was a pair of pink Chuck Taylors. She wore incredible color combinations, strange and unusual t-shirts. She reminds me of the cereal aisle: loud and sweet.

Her accent is thick, but don’t let it fool you into thinking that her English isn’t good. She knows exactlly what she’s saying. Here’s a gem from the archives: “Nothing’s right in my left brain. Nothing’s left in my right brain.” That doosey took me 10 seconds to figure out, I love saying it to myself.

Of every creative partner I’ve had, she probably drove me nuts the most. We did some great work together, but it took forever to get there. Sometimes my ego got in the way, sometimes hers, but we’d always manage to get back to the work, eventually.

Where To Start?

It's been forever, friends. And by forever I mean a week or two. Not that I haven't been thinking of you. Not that I have nothing to say.

On the contrary, I have too much to say. Where to start?

I have been so inspired lately. Kris, Cam and I are firing on all cylinders. We are on the open road of life downshifting and accelerating through corners, winding it out on the open stretches. As AB always says, "It's all good."

But I'm learning that it doesn't matter. Good, bad, whatever. It's life, man. We're all experiencing it. And if you're living it out without covering it up, hiding it or pretending, you're doing it, baby. Fearlessly. Maybe recklessly. Enjoy the trip, man. Yayah!

Here's another good trip. Lastfm.com. If you like music, this is the site! You can create your own radio station on this thing. All you have to do is identify a musical "tag" or a genre of music you dig. I always pop on "ambient." It will compose a radio station of music tagged by users as "ambient." You will be turned on to many many many new artists.

That's my pick for the eve. Do enjoy.