A thought I had while entering the train station after work today:

The most tired and irritable I could be, in terms of what I would do for a seat on the Q:

Punch an old lady in the face and kick her grandkid in the shins, as I dive in front of an expectant mother who's carrying one kid and pushing another in a stroller — all while precariously balanced on her wooden leg.

And the baby would be crying.

I just had a whacked out day. Started off well enough: woke up, took care of some leftover business, maintained my poke war position, ate, showered. And then all of a sudden I was pushing late for work, so by the time I managed to leave I had left my checks (which I intended to cash later on) and my chap stick, which failed to make its way into my pocket for the fourth consecutive day despite making a note to bring it each of the last three.

I got to work 10 mins late, which wasn't so bad considering, but there wasn't much to do all day. It just kinda passed on. I did find out one of my coworkers, Liz, who's probably the one I'm most chill with (Happy Birthday, kid. --ed.) is something of a writer, so we exchanged web addresses to view work. I left there to go to the Nets-Bobcats game with a bunch of UNC alums. I had been unable to swing a wingman to pick up the ticket my friend Lily couldn't use, so I was kind of winging the social scene.

There were about four people there I was well-acquaintanced with, to varying degrees. I felt kind of parasitic, because they all had multiple good friends/co-workers with them, but that's how it goes sometimes. I drove this one girl nuts (in a good way) by ragging on her. Them southern girls can't handle the Brooklyn boys, I'm tellin' you. However, I was too lazy to close it. I'll run into her again through them if she matters.

All this brings me to what I set out to start writing about when I sat at the keyboard. (Well, this and that Lindsay Lohan's "Confessions of a Broken Heart [Daughter to Father]" is like Cooked Crack. Word to Juelz. Moving on.) I read Neil Strauss' The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists. In two days. Like I started yesterday, and I finished at 4:07 or so in the a.m. tonight. Yeah, it's my third book since Saturday. I know.

This one is interesting because it's about a journalist who intended to be a journalist and ended up a master pick-up artist. He got sucked into the world he was covering, turning the story from non-fiction to memoir. And the craziest part of the whole thing is that it has a happy ending. About true love conquering all. For all the techniques and casual sex, it comes back around to the one girl who simply won't be swayed by the mechanics of the pickup.

I really recommend reading this just to read it, especially if you've recently graduated to that post-college phase. It's interesting to see how they derive and apply their various techniques, and what actually holds for you individually. Me, I'm going to take bits and pieces where I see fit, combining them with my own experience. Truth? There are certain parts of this I've got down. It's funny to me more than anything else. Makes a bit of sense too. Don't deny it out of hand without giving it a read. (However, that exact statement renders me a hypocrite, because I have yet to read or view anything Harry Potter related for no real reason. Though I'm beginning to waffle on this. Beginning.)

PS
There was a meet-and-greet with Jeff McInnis, Pat Sullivan, Vince Carter, Raymond Felton and Sean May after the game. Sean asked if anyone was from the NY-NJ area, being that all the rest of the Tar Heel alums were transplants. I said, "Brooklyn!" And he said, "Yeah, I remember you." So even if I was just a face in the crowd interviewing him last year during the title run, at least I was a recognizable one. And my article on him is gonna get me my next job. Good look, Sean.

PPS
We got stranded at the Meadowlands and took a taxi back into the city. The driver spent the whole ride telling us about his use of the prostitutes by the Port Authority, and how he once drove his brother into an epileptic fit by attempting to end a 2-year drought for the poor kid. It was all Becca's fault for escalating the situation.

The moral? There's no punchline for reality.

Some of y'all have probably seen this, others will be scared off because it's eight minutes long. All will be amazed. Or at least impressed.

Cuz I don't see you playing Spider-Man.

It's been a minute, y'all. No doubts there. I don't even know why. I've been busy, but I ain't been busy like that. Just goes that way sometimes. Yesterday was the first time I put pen to page in about two weeks or so. Go figure. Let's see if I can kick an update in the tersest form possible.

1. Lady Sovereign is that next next. I copped the Vertically Challenged EP, and if y'all wanna be ahead of the curve, you will too. She's gotten burn in everything from Rolling Stone to XXL in the last month. Just remember you heard it here first.
2. I got a part-time job at Barnes & Noble. It pays, fills the time, and the people seem cool. These are three things in its favor. The 30 percent employee discount is a fourth, the hardcover 2-week loan policy a fifth. That they put me in cookbooks is a strike against.
3. Sports journalism is a hard field to break into.
4. I'm making slow progress on the Torah slam book. I've got two pieces done for Genesis. However, I'm still on the first parshah (weekly portion), and I've got two more to write before I make it to the next one. Like I said, slow.
5. Newsies remains the greatest movie of all time.
6. In a related note, I'm confused again. Those who know me well will not be surprised.
7. In a related note to the note, it's shaping up to get worse, too.
   
8. I'm a slacker for not yet seeing Rent.
9. I have many talented friends. This was confirmed over Thanksgiving, and I want all of you to know I think that's awesome, and it keeps me on my toes (when I'm not being a layabout).
10. I like to read. I've finished two books in the past three days. They were Survivor, by Chuck Palanhiuk (pronounced POL-in-uk, right Anne?) and The Education of a Coach, by David Halberstam. (Almost linked to Amazon there, and then I realized they were the competition now. ... Whoops.)
11. Oh, and I launched my business Web site, Ben Couch: Sports Reporter. It's basically a compendium of my work as a sports writer. If you're interested. Much less wry than The BC Barbershop, I must forewarn. Save for the View From the Couch columns. And those got me recognized at B&N the other day. I shit you not.
12. Toure's Rolling Stone article on Jay-Z got me hype for no real reason. Jay's awesome. And he personally signed the Lady S-O-V. And if NaS is next, it's over.