Funny fact that I found out this week. Did you know that a Toshiba laptop isn’t waterproof? Yep folks the blog is on temporary hiatus for a little while. Add to that that I am going to be in Florida next week for training. Badass Auntie, I still have your stuff and I will get you posted soon. For the rest of you guys, hang out and enjoy BSMF. I will be back soon with all kinds of bad grammar and silly stories of our adventures on this rock they call Manhatan.
“Wait you are going to Philly for a One Year Old’s Birthday? You have more friends here in New York than I do and you moved up here in August!!” explained someone when he asked me what I was doing this past weekend. I don’t really know how to explain it, does this mean that Southerners are more social than people from the North? Let’s get to that debate a bit later. So how did two people uproot from their home town of 20+ years, move 1600 miles, start new jobs, and yet still have a great social life away from work? Well first of all, when we made the decision to move up to Gotham we both knew that we had a helluva friend and family network already in place. From our NYC Consigliore and all of her St. John’s classmates to the Asian Fireman and all of the NYFD buddies to even more new friendships, we really are lucky to have such a great circle of friends.
To give proper backstories way back some 22 years ago Mrs. Trumpet and OTB were drinking frozen boat drinks in Magen’s Bay in St. Thomas USVI while on a cruise. These two Brooklyn knuckleheads are trying to work their magic on these ‘southern belles’ and things were looking promising until Mrs. Trumpet looks at McNick and informs him that he has a booger hanging from his nose. Yep that was the start of the friendship with all of the St. John’s gang. On the cruise the Memphis girls meet Maria and it was on like Donkey Kong from then. We would vacation with the New Yorkers on Cruises, in Belize, New Orleans, Memphis, we even came up here for a cruise to no-where for a couple of days. I won’t mention all of the names for fear of missing one but we really are blessed to have this group of friends.
The other set of friends that we have was thanks to the guy who now lives in my old house in South Bluffs. You see RJ moved from Willow Grove Pennsylvania to be a tour bus driver at Graceland. With him came a whole bunch of ‘characters’ that I could at best could describe them. Hey Papua New Guinea Mike – Don’t worry the fountain picture is safely stored in a plastic container in the basement of our rental condo downtown. Thankfully the group of malcontents grew up, got married, started having babies and while we left RJ, Mallory, Baby Lisa Marie in Memphis we get to hang with all of his friends and expect him to start making some trips up here this summer. Again I won’t go into detail as I would probably leave one out and we know how bad one gets butt hurt when someone ‘swipes left’.
So you are thinking “hell, you guys got two great groups of friends, you are set” but it doesn’t end there. Now here is where I get two different distinct thought processes and opinions. You recall Miles from The Australian and the post I did about the people of New York? Of course you do, I still get the occasional text from my Bar Wife or Chef Stalker to see if I have been back to that bar and more importantly if he is still working there. For those of you wondering what I am talking about, from that post I reported that New Yorkers are stereotyped as cold, reserved and non-social and that isn’t the case. New Yorkers are instinctively friendly after you get past the first layer of puffy coat.
Since that post I have encountered some New Yorkers who do play the stereotype and are reserved and non-committal. With these people you have to really work in finding a common ground to build a relationship. Case in point is my Cigar haven on E73rd Street. I normally go in there to read the paper, watch a game and try not to engage in the political chat because it is like wrestling with a pig; you both get dirty and the pig likes it. We do get into some pretty good discussions there after you realize “Hey that guy who smokes $50 cigars and makes 2.4M/yr also thinks that children should say Mam/Sir to adults too.”
Sadly there some New Yorkers who won’t let you in or as I say “get up, go to work, come home & repeat” I don’t know it seems strange but I think it was a comment that one of my work cohorts once said to me that hit home. “You know CBT, New Yorkers are normally not ones to open up and keep to themselves unlike people from the South.” I took his comment with appreciation but I have to disagree. Mrs. Trumpet joined a wine club (BTW – Memphis you are doing Wine Club Wrong) and she enjoys it. I have begun friendships with some of my work cohorts and let me tell you, it is refreshing to talk about something other than work when you are grabbing a beer or bite to eat. Like I have said before a couple of times, we really are lucky to have such great friendships up here considering we are still less than a year in living here.
I leave you with an oldie but goodie saying that I have said many times before “A good friend will come bail your ass out of jail. But a great friend will be sitting next to you in jail saying “Holy Fuck that was fun!” Keep it light and have a good day!
Mrs. CBT – “I think we need to get the dogs raincoats and booties.’
Me – “Sure no problem, while you are ordering that on Amazon can you get me a Small T-shirt that reads ‘I am not gay but my boyfriend is’ so I can wear that when I am walking my two unmasculine dogs down First Avenue?”
Mrs. CBT – “Why do you have to say it like that, I see tons of dogs wearing coats, shoes and rain slickers.”
Me – “True but they also think that I am from Texas every time I open my mouth and say something.”
You have no idea how many times this debate goes on here in our 535 square foot studio. Don’t get me wrong, I love my two tiny toy poodles but it sure is a kick in the baby maker when I am walking them down the street and here comes a girl weighing a buck and change walking a Great Dane. Sure both of the Monkey Heads (what we affectionately call them) are small but they are the perfect breed and size to have in a NYC apartment. They don’t shed, they are great with children and as Baby Fine Hair always says “the perfect size for the microwave.”
It is funny as you walk down the street and see all breeds of dogs walking down the street in clothing. We aren’t just talking a sweater I mean to tell you some people up here put their pups in hundred dollar Canadian Goose coats. Granted Maddy’s paws get a tad dirty since she is a white dog but we can cure that by taking her stinky ass to the Russian groomer on 78th street. Maya on the other hand would probably shit on our head if we tried to put booties on her, I can almost guarantee it! Before one of my readers drops a dime on us to the ASPCA (which has an office in Manhattan) we do clean their paws after walking the streets with Baby Wipes as this practice started when we lived on Main Street. Our entrance was in Barboro Alley where lord knows the countless numbers of Bums would take a leak so we had to keep their paws ‘de-funked’. Now Mrs. Trumpet has always been a fan of accessorizing the Monkey Heads. From angel wings to jack-o-lantern hats those dogs have been terrorized plenty. I am ok with it as long as I don’t have to take them out in public but I draw the line at winter or rain coats.
During the only blizzard we had this winter it did occur to me that we might have a problem with the salt and de-ice stuff they put on the sidewalks that it would hurt their paws. When I took them out on that Saturday morning it appeared that there wasn’t going to be a problem. Both dogs were fine to walk around and never once did I see them shivering or act like they were cold. This past weekend we had light rain on Saturday morning as I went about doing my errands. The temp was in the mid 60’s and humid as hell yet there were tons of dogs wearing winter coats like it was freezing out. Meanwhile Maya was happy as a clam walking around the Upper East Side with no coat or booties. Maddy on the other hand was still in the rack as she doesn’t do mornings. So if you hear that Mrs. Trumpet and I are getting a divorce it is because she made me walk the Monkey Heads in rain slickers.
All I want is a treat and for Tater Chip Chelle to come visit us again!
The dog is from Memphis after all!
Seriously, the thought of me wearing an outfit daddy makes my hair stand up on end.
Have a good one!
Let me let you in on a ‘dirty little’ secret about my former hometown. I think that the statute of limitations have run out and since I don’t own a car anymore I don’t have to worry if it will blow up when I go to start it. You see Memphis had a huge cover up 2 years ago and still to this day they don’t talk about it. And this goes pretty deep too, like aquifer water well deep. You ready for it, Memphis 2 years ago had a huge water problem and now we are seeing the effects of it firsthand. No I am talking Flint Michigan lead in the water crisis, I am talking about baby making water. Seriously, first it started with favorite Tavern owner, then we assume that Pepe brought some water back to Philly for DP to drink, next was RJ & Mallory, I could go on for pages…..
Memphians who were on the front lines knew what was going on, I told Mrs. CBT that she was no longer allowed to drink water from the tap so she switched over to Wine and Beer. Double Bird MS switched over to Miller Light and our Ponzi scheme home owner started drinking Fireball like it was her job. One night we were at our local sports bar solving the world’s problem and out of the corner of my eye I see my Bar Wife about to choke down a birth control pill with a glass of water and I had to slap the glass out of her hand. I told her that she had to take her chances because I wasn’t going to let her raise a beautiful child that sadly would never get to ride the adult rides at Disney World. *Editor’s note – For those of you wondering WTF I am talking about, I have a bar wife, she and I were married by Elvis Priestly from Canada on Beale Street. Oh and my Real Wife we had our vows renewed by an Elvis Tribute Artist in Vegas for our 5th Anniversary.
Ok, I am cutting to the chase because I am nearing 350 words. So this Saturday morning Mrs. Trumpet and I get our happy asses up and head down to Penn Station to take a train ride over to Philly. The occasion…..A one year old’s birthday party. I do have to hand it to the city planners up here in the North East. You guys know how to move people around and in bulk too! Getting to Philly, more specifically Glenside was two shakes of Lamb’s tail and we were there! We get up there, get us a cold beer in us and watch Pepe wrestle with his smoker since they had a rain storm. Pulled Pork, Ribs, Chicken, Kielbasa and Smoked Mac & Cheese were on the menu. I must admit it had been a while since I saw multiple charcoal and stick burners going on at the same time and it made me feel nostalgic.
It was good to see everyone and yes, I watched the 1 year old destroy the obligatory birthday cake.
I don’t really understand that practice but hey, I did my job. I kept my real and bar wife from drinking the water 2 years ago!
She would’t drink beer with me in the morning! Not my fault there is a Pinot Grigio Grape Shortage now.
Got up at 4AM to get the Smoker going and still going strong!
If the Rib Bends then like a Rainbow it is good – Rib 101 rule
Glazed up and ready for cutting! Sadly the Jewish folks who were heading out for Passover festivities didn’t stick around.
There is nothing better than putting your hands in Pork Meat and pulling it apart.
For those of you who were calling Bullshit on My Bar Wife and I being married by Elvis Priestly. Here is his card that I keep in my book.
Let me guess, you went to Hot Wing Festival and then Wine Race this weekend didn’t you? Fuckers!
Yes I know you were expecting Friday’s episode of “Pictures of the Week” but sorry to disappoint my 4 readers but this week I really didn’t have much time to snap any pics. This new gig is kicking my arse but “It will B all-rite” as Wato would say. Rather than not do a post today let me tell you about my Thursday.
To give a proper backstory without giving away too much real history, when I attended the University of Arkansas I was a student trainer for Men’s Athletics. I covered football for 4 years and moved over to the Men’s Tennis Team my last 2 years of college. A collegiate tennis team travels much differently than collegiate football. The team consists of 8 players, a head coach, a graduate assistant coach and a 5’6” 150 pound student trainer. The Tennis team I was with for two years resembled a UN delegation; we had 2 Spaniards, a German, an Antiguan, an Irishman, a Panamanian, the Britt Graduate Assistant then you had what I called the “token Americans” which consisted of Americans from Houston, Tulsa, and Fort Smith. To round out the band it was the head coach and yours truly. My junior year we traveled with 11 because of the Graduate assistant and my 5th year it was 10 with the head coach and I as the “non-players.”
Life on the road traveling with that many different nationalities was great and it taught me a lot that about different cultures and personalities. You would fly double prop plane from Fayetteville to the different SEC cities and then there was van ground transportation involved. I earned the title of “Van Back up King” and still to this day can never drive in the state of Massachusetts but that’s another story. After I graduated I left Fayetteville and sadly didn’t keep up with the boys on the team. Thankfully I would see the Head Coach at some events and would call him to catch up and hear how everyone is doing. God Bless Facebook because that was how we all were are able to ‘stalk and keep up with everyone’ so you don’t have to play ‘fill in the blanks’. Case in point here was how my Thursday played out. I did go over to Brooklyn and worked with the rep over across the bridge. I get a phone call from JPH who was in town from Panama. I text him back and he tells me that he is in town for the day and would love to catch up. I tell him I will be back in Manhattan in the afternoon and would come down to Bryant Park. We missed each other on his last visit but I get it, you come to NYC and it is hard to see/do everything.
I catch a train into Bryant Park and get to hang with my boy JPH for about 30 minutes. He works for XXXXXXX (if I told you I would have to kill you) and comes to NYC every other month. It was a great visit and we both played ‘fill in the blanks’ with various stories from the road. We spoke about our jobs, his kids, my small arse studio, how Fayetteville has exploded and all kinds of topics. We say our goodbyes and I head up to Grand Central Station to catch the 6 train. I text the pic of us to our former head coach and he replies “nice” and then it hits me. From the years that I was associated with the team we had 100% graduation rate and that isn’t too shabby. Pretty much everyone on the team is doing well and other than Snapper’s loss of hair and added belly weight it’s all good. The majority of the alumni from the 92 & 93’s teams are coaching tennis and one of our alums just won the University he is a head coach for a conference title that has had a drought of 40 years. Other than 2 members of the team who have fallen off the radar all is going well for the boys. The only downside is that we still have never found Miguel’s missing Atlanta Braves hat! (Inside joke – forgive me)
Children I tell you!
Pancho – man I have grey hair, I am so old! Me – Dude, at least we still have hair!
I only post this picture to showcase that I was indeed skinny. Granted I look like a should be stuffed into a locker for that haircut and goofy look on my face… Good times with Cap’n Bob and Wacko
Those van trips…no wonder some of us snapped!
If you can’t poke fun at yourself then what is the point. Thanks for going down memory lane with me. I am ok with the thought that I may have only 3 or 2 readers on Monday. I will get with the program next week.
This past Friday we had great weather so rather than train or cab it, I decided to walk to my appointment from my new office in Greenwich Village. As I am walking down Greenwich Street I come up on a group of people from what I assume is the heartland who were being led by a tour guide. I could have passed them but I was way ahead of schedule so I more or less tagged along listening to the tour guide’s talk. I am assuming that this group was from an ultra-conservative church because the tour guide was really bringing up that The Village was the Bohemian capital and stuff like that. The guide was harping also on the LGBT movement and that back in the day the majority of lesbian and homosexuals lived in this part of town, again I was enthralled so I kept on listening and walking.
Tour Guide Timmy went on and on about the history of the Village and back in the day it was a different scene with drug dealers, prostitutes and stuff like that. Seriously I was really entertained by this guy and could only imagine what thoughts were running through the minds of the people listening to him. The tour guide then tells how the bars and establishments here were havens for rough crowds and how you didn’t want to be here when the sun went down. It was then I look up and see a familiar sign. Literally I start laughing out loud to the point that the tour guide even stops speaking. I cross the street as to not get accosted by the group but as I have said before “Bless their hearts!”
Below is the familiar sign that I see on the side of this building. I am kind of glad that this group won’t be visiting any of those “scary” Greenwich Village bars. More room for me at the bar to have a beer.
Yes folks that is the New York’s Automatic Slims much like the one on Second Street in Downtown Memphis. Formally owned by my former boss Karen Blockman Carrier. I understand that they serve a good burger in this joint.
Oh and a side note – The West Village is one of the most expensive parts of town to live in.
Sorry it is cropped, I am not that great at stealing pics off the internet
Ah, springtime in New York City. The days are getting longer, the cherry blossoms at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden are blossoming, and the disgusting subway perverts are emerging from the shadows to take stealth photos of your underwear. Greatest city in the world!
According to a new ad campaign from the Manhattan District Attorney’s office, the NYPD is cracking down on “upskirting” just in time for the weather to get warm enough to go tights-less. The D.A. has released a slew of ads meant to raise awareness about the creepy dudes in places like Union Square and Grand Central who sneakily take photos up women’s skirts.
Photo: New York County District Attorney’s Office
Photo: New York County District Attorney’s Office
Photo: New York County District Attorney’s Office
Are shitting me? I was going to go with a post today about Greenwich Village but I had to fire up the Commodore 64 and bang this out this morning. I mean this bothers me on about 3 different levels;
- You mean to tell me that the District Attorney’s office of the state of New York has an ad campaign warning women about be on the lookout for perverts? Oh well I remember when Memphis had the “Say to No to just the tip” billboard campaign in Frasier about teenage pregnancy. Still this really is creepy.
- Ok, I get that you there is some woman who is going to wear a short skirt in the work environment but why in the hell do you disclose the areas that are prone to catch views of up skirts? Just put some extra police presence in those areas and catch the smart phone wielding perverts.
- You mean to tell me that if I encounter a dude with a camera on his shoe taking pics up a skirt I can’t “help him cross the street” into an oncoming cross town bus? And deep down I hope that ‘said’ bus backs up a couple times? (kind of a 180 from a guy who talked about Karma but it is after all election day)
So I guess I now have to add this to my list of ‘subway bingo’ that I play in my head on a daily basis. I recall way back in the day back when I was 5 foot 6 inches tall (still current height) and in the 7th grade. There was one of my classmates who would either ‘drop’ his pencil on a daily basis or even went so far to put a mirror on his bluchers to sneak a peak of the girls in our class who were already onto him and wore shorts under their jumpers. (SDS, KCF, JSH you happen to remember who did it? I am down to one brain cell and can’t place him)
Anyway, if you encounter or see such a pervert, drop a dime on his ass. I mean what do you think the internet is for? No wonder Playboy and Penthouse are dying on vine, we got sick-o’s taking up skirt pics on the 4&5 Trains. In closing try to keep those Karma thoughts flowing (see what I did there KLC Man) and do what CBT did back in the day.
Back when I was working in Memphis my female counterpart or work wife’s desk faced mine in an office of 5 people. One day I guess she didn’t want to wear her yoga pants and her BBQ Fest t-shirt so she wore this V neck sweater wrap top that pretty much was designed for a flat chested female. During the course of the day things got a little loose up there and at one point I look up and she was showing some fairly significant cleavage. I get on my phone and text her “Hey Tits McGee, holster those things would ya? I appreciate it and all considering I haven’t seen a nipple in 3 years but if you don’t fix yourself I may break the streak!” *editor’s note – She was wearing a bra so it wouldn’t have gotten to that point. But for those of you who know the back story on the nipple with me you are probably rolling on the floor, for those who don’t just chalk it up to me not having enough coffee*
Have a good day folks and Happy NY Election Day!
I hope that everyone had a great weekend. We had great weather here and it looks like all of New York emerged from their winter slumber and took to the streets and parks this weekend. On Saturday rather than go bust balls with the boys at the Cigar Inn, I decided to take my show on the road and sat on a bench outside of Central Park and smoke my cigar there. Smoking is prohibited in any public park but the benches along 5th Avenue on the outside of the stone fence are fair game. As I was sitting there watching the con artists ‘sell’ their CD’s, I got in some great people watching. I glanced down at my foam and get a text from our former houseguest as she and Aunt Terry are at the Downtown Olympics in South Main back in Memphis. It gets me to thinking and I remember that on Sunday was the start to Festival Season back in Memphis.
I have to be honest, I really am going to miss Festival season this year I always consider the Rajun Cajun Crawfish Festival as the start of the season. It always starts with tons of beer, sunburns, people making bad fashion decisions and there normally there is a guy walking around in red shorts and funny leather spa shoes. That festival is always a fun one because you never know who you will see mainlining Vodka (you know who you are) straight from the bottle. Traditionally I was always in bed by 7:30 that Sunday and was good to go on Monday morning for work.
The next one that I will miss but I have to admit that it is starting to lose it’s appeal to me is the Great Wine Race. I think last year’s comment by TG summed it up the best. “Well I am going to go watch the whores” because the whole day starts going south right after you have that 2nd Call-A-Cab. Don’t get me wrong, I am going to miss my “I only see you at Festivals” friends this year because I believe that weekend we are going to be in Philly at a One Year Old’s birthday party. Yes, I typed that, I am going to a freaking 1 year old’s party.
I could go on and on but you get the picture. So if you are reading this worthless dribble of a blog at your desk this morning and sporting the first sunburn of the season just remember Carbunkle’s words of Wisdom when it comes to Festival Season; “It is a marathon, not a sprint. You don’t want your ‘check liver’ light to come on during BBQ fest so take it easy!”
Looking up 5th Avenue towards The Met
They are doing it wrong!
Slackers! I miss Aunt Terry!
This is what happens when you day drink at the pool on a Friday. And no this isn’t Park Slope, this is South Main
Oh and if you were wondering what the meaning of my title picture is, that is me waiting for my first Bloody Mary that Katie was going to make for me.
Busy first week at the new gig so I am rushing. More later, I promise my 4 readers.
It was a cold day in Little Italy so I had to have a ‘warmer’
Of course this store is in the heart of Little Italy!
Now this Taxi will defiantly “Beat the JAG!” S/O to Rhino, Bette, & McNick!
Found a fun little place on the UWS called E’s. Only downside is that they serve the Silver Bullet
This beauty of a dive bar is in the East Village. We shall be back
Greatest Houseguest Ever! She only stayed 2 of 4 nights with us!
Have a good weekend!
Ok, let’s get one thing straight. You ever, ever call me Jeffrey I am punching someone in the throat or kicking them in the baby maker. I will admit that when we started watching “The Barefoot Contessa” I was not a fan. That voice, the doting of “Jeffrey will love these” and all the gay dinner guests would put me on the ledge. It wasn’t till Mrs. CBT made a couple of her dishes that I turned the other cheek. I believe it was at a Live at the Garden concert that she made some artichoke salad that really was killer. The only problem with the Ina’s menus is that you need to go knock off a bank because she cooks some expensive shit! Lobster, Caviar, Frozen Artichokes (which I may add is not available in Memphis) and cheeses that I have never heard about. Even my boy Tony Bourdain poked fun at Ina’s husband on his speaking tour “Jeffrey really loves his meatloaf, if you know what I mean.” Anyway when we moved up here I knew that we would be exposed to some new foods and naturally cuisines that one would not normally get in Memphis kind of like when we watch the show.
Mrs. CBT and I keep our expenses down so that we can visit all those Dive Bars and pay for many vacations by eating 90% of our meals at home. This also keeps our weight down since we try to eat more lean meat and we watch our portions. Let me stop you before you say “Way to go CBT” because in the pantry right next to the quinoa is a package of double stuffed Oreos because CBT is a fat kid at heart. Ever since I got relieved of my cooking duties (so I use a half a pound of butter when cooking) the menus are designed by Mrs. CBT. She takes great pride in creating the menus and I get to unpack the Fresh Direct boxes. This past Monday I get the Fresh Direct order and I am looking it over where I see under produce ‘Wild Ramps’.
“Honey, what the hell are Ramps?” I inquired to Mrs. CBT.
“They are very popular up here and are in season, Ina loves to cook with them.” She informed me from the other room.
“Honey, we are just getting into the spring, what the feck plant grows in the dead of the winter except for a weed?’ then I take a look in the box and what do I see…..a bunch of weeds that we just paid $6.00 bucks for.
So Mrs. CBT sautéed them up in the skillet with some “Good Olive Oil” and brown butter (you see what I did there KLC Man) and served them with Crab Cakes and oven roasted Asparagus with Lemon Zest. Now I consider myself a true adventurer when it comes to the cuisine up here in New York City. I will try everything at least once and rarely have gotten boinked. Well I found something out my friends. I am not a fan of Wild Ramps.
Here is the menu for the week
Here is the Fresh Direct invoice, Wild Ramps??? I bet you guys have never seen that shit at Gangsta Kroger have you!
Here it is in all its glory. A wild ramp still with the loose soil on it.
Pic on the top right is what they looked like. Sadly I didn’t get a picture of the plate.
Again, you feckers call me Jeffrey and we are going to fight!