I was going to write about woodpeckers but I’m boiling mad so that will have to go on the back burner (heh heh good one)
Last night I woke up at 3 a.m. Instead of going back to sleep I decided to watch the reunion of The Real Housewives of New Jersey and followed it up with Watch What Happens.(this is the good part of sleeping alone you can enhance your intellectual side at all hours of the day or night) Before I knew it it was 4:30. For the first time in my life I took the phone off the hook since my family starts calling at 7.
I woke up at my regular time and put the phone back on.
About 10 minutes later it rang and who was there but my niece Julie calling from her book tour.
“What’s the matter?” Jews always answer the phone that way but even so it was early for her to call and she sounded upset.
“I’m shaking. mancow hung up on me” notice he gets no capital letters.
I may be the only person any of you know who knows who mancow is. When she told me she was being interviewed by him I knew it spelled trouble. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make her nervous.
He’s a guy who wasn’t even relevant in the 70’s which was his hay-day . His claim to fame was that Imus was his friend. When Howard Stern came on the scene he tried to up his shock jock persona but he was always small time and New York radio stations wouldn’t have pissed on him.
I knew that since he would have nothing in common with any of Julie’s readers he was going to have to make fun of her in some way.
My reaction to that asshole hanging up on her was that ending that phone call was the best case scenario. I also told her that his audience of 15 year old boys jerking off to him interviewing strippers wouldn’t be buying her book anyway so who cares.
The thought of my little skinny Julie sitting alone in a hotel shaking because of this shmuck drives me crazy. I will get him someday. I don’t know when and I don’t know how. (By “get him” I mean give him a real mean look”)
Now on to the Woodpecker (capital “W”)
As I wrote, yesterday I was feeling a little low. Whenever that happens I start thinking about the trip I’m taking with my sister. I’ve been wondering what kind of food they serve in Lisbon. I looked up the hotel my travel agent Paula had booked for me ( I double love her) and scrolled down to the menu from the hotel restaurant.
The first dish on the menu was Woodpecker.
There is a woodpecker who is eating my house in montauk.
I printed out the menu. I’m going to tape it to the corner of my house just under the roof eaves just to let him know that he’s lucky he isn’t Portuguese.