The Illuminated Donkey

Doing My Part for Jersey City. I just foiled an attempted car (well, minivan) robbery that was taking place a block from my apartment building, on a dead-end street where I have often parked my own car (which was a motivating factor, in its own selfish way, for me calling the police). I was almost home from work and some drinks with P-Frank when I heard the sound of breaking glass. I looked over to see three teens huddled around a minivan, and then the three teens going into the minivan. Hmmm...I thought: this seems a touch suspicious.

So after a brief inner debate I decided to call 911 (for what I actually think was the first time ever). I gave the police the relevant information and then, because I am a very, very stupid person, I stayed nearby (though out of sight, I hope). There was soon a very fateful moment of comedy: the now-obviously-hotwired minivan began to pull out of the dead-end street when a towtruck approached, its hazards flashing. Immediately the driver stopped and shifted into reverse, peeling back down the street, out of immediate view. By the time they tried another getaway a few minutes later, an actual police car had arrived, followed by another. Apparently a dead-end street is a bad place for something to go wrong with your crime.

After some searching by the police, one of the three teens took off out of the dead-end and down the street, followed by two cops on foot and eventually one of the cars. I took this opportunity to skedaddle, though I saw from my apartment window that they quickly caught the kid. The police never called me back (I didn't give them my number, but I assume they have it) so I guess that concludes my involvement in this episode. Of course, that's assuming that nobody saw me, and that I don't get some sort of revenge beating. God, that would totally suck.

Um...you don't think that car thieves read blogs, do you?

Makeup Week (What?!?!) Continues Here at The Donk! It's time for the latest episode of "Complete the AM New York Newspaper Column Lead!" This installment's column lead comes courtesy of former Playgirl Editor-in-Chief Ronnie Koenig. Let's play!

It's happened with every boyfriend I've ever had. About three months into the relationship, when the "I love you's" have already been said and a sort of comfortableness sets in, he'll look over to me as I'm putting on lipstick and innocently say...

What will he innocently say? Is it:

1. "I wish you wouldn't come in here when I'm taking a dump."
2. "Please, whatever you do, don't quote me in a crappy giveaway newspaper that people basically use as a sanitary guard for subway seats."
3. "I am so glad I tried dating a fat chick for once."
4. "Will you put some on me?"
5. "Whore."

The correct answer is, as indicated by the article's title "When a Man Is Confident in Lipstick," D.

To which I can only reply, "Every man?!" Seriously? I'll admit that this isn't exactly my area of expertise, but doesn't that 100% figure seem just a bit high, even given what might be a rather large sampling size?

And just what type of confident guy reaches for the makeup box on cue at the 90-day mark? A few quotes: "No, I haven't been dating the members of Duran Duran..." "Members of bands like Kiss, Motley Crue, and Poison may have looked bizarre to parents, but certainly not to the throngs of women backstage at their concerts." "From the ancient traditions of Native Americans to the war paint Tommy Lee once adorned his face with, there is a wildness that men are burning to express through color."

Sense a theme running through those? So my fellow men, if you're looking to date an ex-groupie for a period of about three months, just slap on that lipstick and rouge!

"Warning: The following six pages may cause intense cravings, hunger pangs -- and even drooling. We've been hunting and gathering all over the world to find the most delicious, food-inspired gourmet beauty gifts. We can't think of anyone who wouldn't want something this delish. Bon appetit!"

From the Sephora catalog's "Sweet Treats" section, featuring Spiced Apple Cider Shower Gel, Old-Fashioned Eggnog Body Wash, and Pomegranate Brown Sugar Body Polish.

Selections from the Sephora "Sweet Treats" collection not listed in the catalog because of space constraints:

• Beef Stroganoff Shampoo & Conditioner
• French Onion Soup Cleansing Scrub
• Sour Cream and Onion Potato Chip Lip Gloss
• Western Omelet Pick-Me-Up Cologne Spray
• Open-Faced Meatloaf Sandwich with Gravy Foaming Bubble Bath
• Chicken Pad Thai Eye Shadow
• Lobster Bisque Shimmer Spray
• Applewood Smoked Salmon and Yellowfin Tuna with Caviar, Risotto of Exotic Mushrooms, Morel Crusted Lamb with Baby Green Beans, and Crispy Potatoes, followed by the Chocolate Venetian Cake with Caramel Sauce, with an Optional Glass of Port Body Soap

Correction: It has recently come to our attention that everything posted on this site from March 17, 2002 through August 30, 2003 was a complete lie. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.

Just when I thought that things couldn't get any better for me, P-Frank passes this little bit of good news along to me. Sounds like a certain somebody might need a little comforting, perhaps from a fully employed man.

Let's all clear our minds and move on to more important matters.

There Is Democracy occurring in My Building, Right Now! Just took a quick swing out to my lobby to vote (though not while still wearing my pajamas, which I had briefly considered doing). It's a fairly quiet scene, with only about 20 people around (half seemingly just hanging out), talking politics, with one guy yukking it up, trying to be the center of attention (probably just killing time until the bars open).

There were three people ahead of me on line, and one old toothless guy who got on line behind me and immediately pulled out a container of yogurt and began eating. After signing in at the desk and waiting to enter the booth I was met by three or four official (with color-coded badges) poll-watchers from the major Mayoral campaigns, each of whom held a checklist of all the voters in the district. There was one real scary-looking kid there from the Manzo campaign and a desperately old guy for Healy, so I think they made the right move having the pleasant woman representing Acting Mayor L. Harvey Smith's group ask the questions. Then I went into the booth and finally got this voting thing frigging over.

Now if you'll all excuse me, I need to head over to Grove Street, put on this fake goatee, and vote under the name "Diego DeConsuela."

Zogby Final National Poll of 2,836 Unlikely Voters.

18%: Planning to Register Any Day Now
17%: The Guy on the TeeVee
14%: The Other Guy..You Know...Him
13%: Shit, You Think I Wanna Get Called for Jury Duty?
9%: Yeah, Right, Like I'm Spending My Day Off in a High-School Cafeteria
8%: Not Bothering Until I Can Vote by Phone, Like for American Idol
8%: Curious to See If P. Diddy Will Carry Through on His Threat
6%: Wait a Minute...This Tuesday? You Sure?
4%: Heads
3%: Tails

Margin of Sampling Error: +/- 35%

Maximum big surprise she knows something new,
I pull my shirt off and pray.
I'm saving myself to suffer the heatwave,
Pull my shirt off and pray.
We're coming up on re-election day.

I couldn't find the lyrics to Lyle Lovett's "Election Day," so instead I'm stuck with Duran Duran. And what's worse, late post-"Seven and the Ragged Tiger" Duran Duran. It's a crappy little song, but just like the real Election Day, if you can only wait a little while it will soon be over. That's right, just 24 hours from now it will be November 3, and this seemingly eternal election will finally be over.

HAHAHAHAHA!!!! That's a joke, son! This goddamned thing is gonna drag on for months! Lawyers are already massing on the Florida and Ohio borders, just waiting for the signal to attack! (And just so I can be the first to pass along some soon-to-be-unavoidable information, 68 of Ohio's 88 counties use those chadtastic punch cards, and seven counties use touch-screen ballots which might not be possible to recount! Wheeee!)

As for the local scene, I can report that the voting machines are already in place in the lobby of my apartment building, so if anybody wants to hurry over we could probably get in a good three-to-five thousand votes in before the volunteers arrive. And there sure are a lot of candidates to choose from. Besides the big two there are candidates from three different socialist parties -- the Socialist Equality Party, the Socialist Workers Party, and Socialist Party USA (or perhaps U!S!A!) -- which will certainly split the socialist vote, throwing the election to the damn capitalists again. The much-scarier-than-you-thought Lyndon LaRouche is not on the New Jersey ballot, but the selling-a-DVD-on-which-he-debates-hand-puppets Ralph Nader is.

Of course, the big Jersey City battle is for a Mayor to finish out the late Glenn Cunningham's term, which expires in June. It's been a pretty normal election season here in Chilltown, with your standard assortment of defaced signs, dead rats, and photos of a candidate sprawled out on his porch, drunk and naked.

"I was walking down the block and I see this guy naked on his front porch, and my friend tells me he's running for mayor, so I go running back and start taking his picture," said Hector Rodriguez, 18, who used a camera phone.

Ah yes, just the kind of quote any political hopeful wants to see in the heat of the campaign battle. I'm actually going to vote for that drunk/naked hopeful, Jerramiah Healy, since Tris McCall, whose opinion I value on local issues, has endorsed him. The race seems to be coming down to Healy and Louis Manzo, about whom I've never heard anybody say a good word, but he does actually live in my building (though I never saw him until last week, when he stood in the lobby one morning shaking hands, though not introducing himself), and his mailbox is directly above mine, so that I occasionally get his mail. I have to admit that it would be kinda cool to get the Mayor's mail, but that's not much of a reason to cast a vote.

Speaking of which, I probably need to decide who I'm voting for pretty soon, huh?

Beginning to Look Back Wistfully on the Dole. Now just wait a minute...you mean they expect me to show up for work every single weekday, week after frigging week?!?! So when the hell am I supposed to go to Atlantic City?

[Things are going really well at work so far, by the way.]

Oh my God. I am fully expecting the sky to rain fire and brimstone any second now.

And on that note, I'm taking the rest of the month off.

How the hell do you people expect me to post stuff with, like, 14 hours of playoff baseball every night? Seriously.

Our Long National Nightmare Is Over.

Earlier today, at approximately 5:15 p.m., a few days short of eight months after being laid off, I was offered, and subsequently accepted, a permanent position of employment with a large, well-known firm located in midtown Manhattan. I am a happy, happy man.

Whew.

What I've Learned From Listening to Eight Hours of Light FM Radio Every Day at Work.

• The Shared Space on the Venn Diagram of Light FM and Classic Rock (heard when I have to go into the accounting room to send faxes or make copies): Prince's "Purple Rain"; Billy Joel's "Piano Man"; most of Fleetwood Mac's Rumors.
• Songs that you think you never really hear enough until you have to hear them two or three times a day, every day: "Band of Gold," "Summer Breeze," and "Let's Stay Together."
• The time Elton John joined George Michael on stage for a surprise duet of "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" was the Light FM equivalent of Woodstock and the Sun Sessions all rolled into one, and as such needs to be honored four times a day.
• By the same token, the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack is the Light FM equivalent of Nevermind.
• Inexplicably absent from Light FM: The Fifth Dimension, James Taylor, Air Supply, SImon and Garfunkel.
• There is some wish to listen to Barry White songs even at ten in the morning while hunched over a keyboard, trying to tweak the Excel spreadsheet.
• Cutoff Song for Madonna Light FM Acceptability: Vogue.
• Phil Collins, Lionel Richie, and Hall and Oates are all still apparently still recording new material.
• There are apparently men who would rather have bad times with one particular woman than good times with a different woman. The best thing about being a woman Is the prerogative to have a little fun. High school can be so rough, can be so mean. And a whole lot of other crap.