doing it up for memorial day, in four different area codes!

it was quite a memorial day weekend around these parts, as ab, sarah, cw, trey, kels, shaela, panda and i made our way from manhattan island to coney island to long island to have excessive amounts of memorial day weekend fun, as well as a serious amount of bbq action.

there was plenty of excitement as we (and by we, i mean those among us who don't have the misfortune of being mets fans) took in a yankee game from the right field bleachers, in which the yanks took it to the seattle mariners. the next day we ventured to coney island, where the first order of business was to try to get shaela to go on her first amusement park ride. she wanted no part that shit, leaving her dad to finish out the bumblebee ride alone. we also ate mad nathan's, got severe whiplash and a healthy sense of our own mortality on the cyclone, and peeked in on my favorite aspect of coney island, the non-stop boardwalk dance-party circle. there just isn't anything like it.

the next day, after i lost my voice during a late night round of karaoke (why i felt the need to scream into a device which amplifies my voice i will never know- i blame the coors light) we headed out to strong island for a serious bbq with the family.

charles had what might be his most successful bbq outing to date, during which he (further) gained the unending admiration of my family with his amazing burgers, ribs, and chicken, and trey-bien wowed us with his fresh tuna steaks (you caught those yourself, right trey?)

beef coma doesn't even begin to describe it. and we did the whole thing over again on monday.

viva la memorial day weekend, bitches.

here it is, in pictures:

panda, about to play skeeball with ab and sarah

art for sale on the coney island boardwalk. as we walked by, trey said "uh, is that Haile Selassie?" indeed it is, my friend, indeed it is...

good and drunk in park slope at the Fantasy Managers Conference '08.

shaela, wondering if we really thought she was going to be happy about us strapping her into a giant bee.

pointing at her subjects, from on high...

trey, and the giant bumblebee.

the cuteness just doesn't end.

ab and trey in the back seat of the cyclone, just before they got their asses handed to them.

excuse me, i can't caption this one because i am having a cute attack.

the sisters, at home in strong isle.

alison's myspace pose with panda

panda, on the move.

on the F train, headed to the Fantasy Managers Conference '08

rabbit bird.

my cats like to do people stuff, like have bulimia and obsessive-compulsive disorder, as well as a healthy case of separation anxiety.  clyde not only possesses these traits, but also those of what we have come to term a "rabbit bird," due to his habit of positioning his front paws as a rabbit would, and making bird noises when he is feeling particularly lonely, needy, excited... any strong emotion, really.  i just uploaded the camera after a few months of not doing so, and found these stray images, taken when the cat situation gets too adorable to handle.

bleacher creatures forever

back at yankee stadium last night for a rainy loss in the bleachers... there is nothing quite like losing to the tigers while getting steadily rained on.  it's really depressing.  especially when the losing comes as a result of a series of unfortunate events following a very promising start by the (normally shaky) ian kennedy.  it may have also been the fault of the jabroni herd who came in to sit behind us directly following the first round of tiger runs.  seems they left the bar across the street while it was 3-0 yanks, and by the time they got to us it was 4-3 tigers.  sounded like a straight jinx to me, but i was too despondent to get too riled up about it.  i can't get all yankee mystical with morgan stanley (ensberg) over at third base.  i know i really should, but i can't. not on may 1st, anyhow.

speaking of morgan stanley, our current a-rod replacement, who looks like he finished up work on the trading floor at 3 and headed to the ball park (read: not enough like a baseball player to make me happy)-  his presence makes me want to replace our normal mid-6th inning stadium-wide rendition of YMCA, and ask for a mic so i can belt out a stirring rendition of joni mitchell's big yellow taxi, the chorus of which, if you will remember, is the wailing lament YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'VE GOT TILL IT'S GONE.  this, of course, aimed at our old, bleach blonde friend, alex rodriguez.

sure don't, a-rod.  the fighting jeters miss you too.

anyhow, it was still fun, especially because it was the bleachers, which as i have likely mentioned on this blog well over a hundred times, is one of my favorite places in the world.  the jabroni jinx dudes who were behind us were hilarious; absolute-one-hundred-percent-dyed-in-the-wool new york yankee fans, of the sort who are all heart and no brains, that is...

the head jabron spent the entire time telling one of the other (obviously quieter) jabrons all these fantastical facts and stories regarding the yanks and yankee stadium... it was awesome.  none of it was even remotely true, of course, but it was really great to listen to nonetheless.  i relate to his yankee fanaticism and tendency to let lore get in front of fact on the priority line...

i believe he told a story about how a unicorn wearing donny baseball's uniform hit a home-run SMACK into the french's mustard sign, which at the time (1985?  i think that's what he said) was located directly above where we were sitting in section 39 of the bleachers.  let me tell you this much:  dude has certainly drank far too many beers and done enough cocaine that he has no way of knowing what really happened on any day in 1985, or any day since for that matter.  and as charles pointed out later as we rode the 4 train back to manhattan, nobody has put a baseball into any sign behind the bleachers since well before we were born.  but it was a sweet story. 

he also had all sorts of misinformation regarding our current team, such as the point when chad moeller (otherwise known as our back-up back-up catcher) stepped up to the plate and jabroni said, "oh, here's that young guy that they just brought up" when in fact chad moeller is older than ME and has more stickers on his MLB suitcase than john olerud.  i have no idea who jabroni might have been referring to...  shelley duncan?  they brought him up but he's old as hell too... who knows.  as i said before, it has to be hard to keep up with current events when your brain is swimming in such a steady pool of beer all the time.

nonetheless, these are the yankee fans i really love, the really dedicated ones, ones who actually said out loud when they got to the seats and saw the significant score change that they may very well have affected by leaving their original watching-place, wow, maybe we should go back to the bar and watch it there.  i appreciate that mentality, even if they have no clue what they are talking about when it comes to the practical side of things.  these are the dudes who will tell you it rained gold coins the night scott brosius hit that 9th inning 2 strike, 2 out home run in the 2001 world series, or that everyone in yankee stadium cried with paul o'neill the night his father died (though a lot of people did, myself included.)  these guys are the reason we'd rather sit in the bleachers...