It’s 9:36 on Yom Kippur morning and I haven’t eaten yet.

I usually don’t fast because my sister Marcia fasts for my sins so I don’t have to. And also I haven’t really done anything bad this year but maybe I’ll give it a try.

I was talking to Marcia before. I know I’m not supposed to talk on the phone but it’s 9:42 now and I still haven’t eaten or had coffee so I can’t be held responsible if I act crazy.

I told her that I wanted to go to Hugh McCracken’s memorial in a few weeks so I wrote to dave to make sure that he wouldn’t be in NYC because then I wouldn’t go.

I wouldn’t want to see him and I certainly wouldn’t want to see HER.

He won’t be so I will go.

I really cared about Hugh and I love his wife so I’m glad about that.

Marcia asked me  “What did he blow?”

This goes back to an old story where dave and I were in a Hertz place waiting for a car and we struck up a conversation with a woman who had one too many facelifts and a lot of silver jewelry on and when she heard that dave was a musician, showing how hip she was, she asked “What do you blow?”

dave answered, “Piano”.

Well Hugh blew guitar and harmonica.

Which reminds me of a story about the late Sam Brown, also a guitar player. My friend Susan Appleman told me that Sam told her that he could tell time by looking at an apple but it was never the right time. Susan was forced to tell him that if it was never the right time then he can’t tell time by looking at an apple. This has nothing to do with nothing but it’s 9:58 and still no food.

Man, how did Ghandi do it?

I had a drink with David last night (before sundown) and I happened to mention that I was planning on meeting a friend of his, Donna, for a drink in the near future.

Let me give you a little history on this. Donna is someone I have never heard him utter a bad word about and that’s saying something. He’s known her forever and he loves and admires her so I wasn’t surprised at his reaction to this but even for him this was a bit harsh.

“What do you have in common with Donna? Let me help you with this. Zero.”

“I have plenty in common with her.”

“Oh yeah? She’s a white Anglo Saxon hedge fund executive, and you?”

“I’m white.” I said  “Oh yeah and we both know what an asshole you are.”

10:13 and I’m starting to hallucinate.

Since dave has flown the coop and Liz is in Santa Fe I have become the man on the 18th floor.

I know, I know, you’re saying “What about David? He looks big and strong and he watches football.”

Well that’s the extent of his manliness (as far as I know).

I’m the one who fixes the TV, the cable and even carries stuff because of his weak arm. He keeps saying he has a weak arm.

He’s been complaining that there is no internet in his apartment for over a week. He also insists that his TV isn’t High Definition, even though it is.

Since I didn’t believe him about the HD TV until I tested it myself I didn’t do anything about it. After checking it I realize he’s right.

I’ve been on the phone with the cable company for days trying to get the internet working.

I was in his house climbing on a ladder testing the modem and the airport to see where the problem is. What is he doing during this?

Sitting on the couch with his eyes glued to the TV only looking my way, not to see if the old lady has fallen off the ladder, but to question how much longer it would take me because the noise was distracting.

I’m sure he would have held the ladder for me but, you know, the bad arm.

When I spoke to the cable company they agreed that the HDTV problem might well mean that he needs a new cable box.

I told David that I would bring the box to the cable company and exchange it even though I will have to take 2 buses and carry a heavy thing but in return he’d have to buy me a 3 course meal plus beverage.

Using one of his favorite expressions, he tried to “Jew me down” saying that three courses were  out of the question unless I got the HD AND the internet fixed.

Again speaking for you, my faithful reader, you are wondering why he doesn’t take the box back himself. Here’s why. He wouldn’t have the slightest idea what to say to the cable people about his problem. He doesn’t know the word modem, or even what kind of TV he has. Any question they asked him would leave him standing there ready to attack the heritage of the person who asked him the question so for the good of mankind I will handle it.

Speaking of handle, the handle on his toilet broke off. I have to wind this up so I can go over to Home Depot and buy a toilet kit and I can fix his toilet.

My sister, Marcia, Julie, Violet and her friend went out to Montauk with me to enjoy the end of season and see if my house was still there after a bunch of twenty-somethings rented it for the summer.

For the most part it was in good shape and I loved that they didn’t bug me at all while they were there.

It’s always good to see Marcia. She lives far away so it doesn’t happen that often. We do fall right back in step though.

She was telling me a story of how a friend of hers went into a jewelry store that Marcia used to shop at and bargained the price of a watch down from $500 to $225. After that Marcia never went into that store again since she had always paid the prices they asked assuming they were firm and she didn’t know how to negotiate.

I agreed and told her a story about a period when dave and I started collecting antique musical instruments. I had gone into a flea market and saw two long horns. They were priced at $50 dollars. I went back and forth with the woman until she agreed to sell them both to me for $25.

As she was wrapping them up she said “I’m really losing money on this.”

I felt bad about that so my response was, “Well how about if I add another five dollars?”

I said to Marcia ” The look of shock on her face told me that I was..” I paused to think of a word, when Marcia jumped in with “a moron?”

It was like a mean version of Mad Libs.

I don’t have a theme today. Both too much and nothing much has happened.

First of all as some of you may know, Julie has become my Saturday night date.

For about three weeks She has been saying that she has a hankering for Mexican food. Unfortunately Violet would not give the okay on that so we decided to go Mexicali this weekend without her.

Because we’re both social network savvy, especially Julie, we put it out on Twitter that we wanted a good, not fancy, Mexican restaurant.

We got loads of responses. We sifted through them, discussed them thoroughly and then went to one that no one recommended that was just near my house.

It was so stinky that as we were going home we both blamed each other for the choice. Actually she blamed me because she’s the kid. I blamed her too but I kept it to myself because any time  you criticize Julie she says “I didn’t ask to be born”.

I don’t want to say that my family cares a lot about meals but it’s two days later and every phone call from her starts with her saying how much she hated that meal. This morning she told me that we would have done better heating up a can of Old El Paso.

That dinner pretty much ruined our whole evening because afterwards we had planned to go back to my house but Julie was so mad that she just decided to go home.

I don’t think it was the bad meal. We never feel like doing anything after we eat because we’re usually a. drunk and b. full.

Note to self:  If we want to extend the evening, we should eat later than 4:30 .

Anyway I took my time walking home and went in to Barnes and Noble and bought a book. It was really hot so I decided to walk though Duane Reade air conditioning to cool off.  (Note my product placement. “Hellooooo, send me free stuff)

I no sooner stepped into the store when, speaking of free stuff, some guy, I think he was the pharmacist, offered me a FREE flu shot.

Not one to turn down a freebie I immediately agreed and voila I’m flu free. At least I’m pretty sure I am. Do pharmacists have tattoos?

My arm is pretty swollen and red today. Ah I’m sure it was a flu shot. What else could it have been?

Busy week busy week.

Most importantly I went to the first of Violet’s many tenth birthday parties.

Since she was born in the summer, all her friends are still in camp or tap dancing their way across the United States so her first birthday party was attended by all adults, her parents, grandparents, aunt, and dear adult friends who could be counted on to come up with good presents.

Even though she was the star of the evening, something that would be apparent to anyone with eyes, since she was dressed to the nines in a lovely blue cocktail dress, each guest was greeted with a spa treatment given by the birthday girl herself.

Luckily her grandparents had given her some kind of foot thing filled with swamp water and colored pebbles that popped all over your feet while you relaxed to a somewhat painful neck massage.

It didn’t stop there. She also worked on your coiffure.

As everyone knows, no proper hairstyle can occur without a thorough wet down, after which perfection is reached by using a 1 inch Barbie brush to fluff it up.  This was topped with the attachment of a lovely barrette that it seems was only on loan because attempting to leave the house with it still in your hair would certainly be frowned upon by the Birthday Girl because she ain’t made of butterfly barrettes.

The eats were top o’ the line, pigs in blankets, cheese and crackers, and all the pizza you could swallow.

Everyone had a lovely time. When the evening ended with the blowing out of the candles on a home made cake shaped like a monster with big teeth we all hugged and looked forward to Violet’s next party which I think will be on Thursday.

After all, hitting double digits is a real big deal.

I got an email from my sister in law (is she still my sister in law?) last night saying that dave’s cousin died.

Here’s the thing, writing a blog makes me more thoughtful about my life and even though I hadn’t seen Bobby in over 30 years I had just been thinking about him the other day.

He was a sweet person with a sad life. I think he had some mental problems and maybe some drug thing after serving in Viet Nam.

When last I saw him we were in Kentucky and he agreed to mind my dog, Norman while the rest of us went out for the day. Let’s not even discuss that I wouldn’t let Norman stay alone but right there is why I can’t get a dog now.

Through the years he called a few times and ask to “borrow” money.

I once sent him $500.

He called again about a year ago and left a message asking for money. The message ended with him saying “Either way, I love you guys.”

I played it for dave who asked his father if we should send him the money and dave’s dad said that he has two sons who take all his money and his needs are taken care of by the VA.

So we left it at that.

Just the other day I was thinking about this and wishing I had sent him the money. If he had been my cousin I know I would have.

Even if his sons took it he would have known, or thought, we loved him too.

Had an interesting day yesterday.

Actually that’s a lie. It wasn’t really interesting to anyone but me.

When I said that I realized that I never read anything like what I write. I read stories, hopefully plots with plenty of “throbbing members”in them. I particularly like mysteries but very few memoirs.

I don’t know, I’m just not my cup of tea.

Last night I was in Brooklyn having dinner with Susan and Allan. I know I’ve said this before but going to a restaurant with them is a unique experience.

After they order, “one teaspoon of this with just a dot of that”, they are not at all troubled that the owner of the restaurant stands and talks to them for what I felt was hours.

And you know when the waiter says “How was your meal?”, unless there was a dead rat in my soup my answer would be, “Fine”.

Al’s answer, “Only fair”.

It was some kind of sushi roll and he had eaten the whole thing.

Obviously this was important news to the waiter who immediately reported it to the  owner because Mr. Chatty came over to the table to see why such a mediocre review.

Unfortunately Al was in the bathroom and Susan, who can’t stand to see anyone in distress said “Everything was great, you know Al. I’m telling you he loved it.”

But this guy was no dummy. He wasn’t going to take Miss Sunshine’s word for it so when Allan came back he ran over again to tell him that he wouldn’t charge him because anything less than perfect just wasn’t good enough for his favorite customer.

This guy must have put another room on his house from their tips alone.

We continued our meal and in conversation I mentioned that I felt like a third wheel when I go out to dinner with a couple.  Al asked if I felt that way when I eat with them. I had to admit that I did.

He was shocked. We’ve been close friends for over 30 years and there were many times that Sue ate with me and dave and I ate with Al and Sue quite comfortably.

When I explained that I wouldn’t feel that way if dave were just out of town but it being a permanent situation made a difference, he understood.

Then he asked me to tell him what makes me truly happy. I didn’t have to think for long.

It’s when I’m writing and I feel it flowing.

Considering that given a choice I wouldn’t read the crap I write if I was stuck on a mountain for ten years, that says a lot.

I’m back home again and not a minute too soon.

Once Stephanie started feeling better her real personality came back.

I was kind enough to drive her all over, to the doctor, to the grocery store, even to Walmart’s where she got into one of those riding carts and drove all over the place at top speed. She actually ran into me twice and sorry isn’t a word that passes her lips.

Speaking of speed, she couldn’t stop criticizing how slow I drive., “Are we even moving?”

I explained that since I had gotten a  written warning for driving in her neighborhood at 45 in a 35 mph zone I wasn’t taking any chances. I couldn’t take being thrown in the slammer even if it was just to get printed and released on my own recognizance so she could just keep her snotty remarks to herself.

I’m not a fast driver anyway. It was once said that if I hit someone with my car, I’d just shove them down the block.

Anyway I’m back in my home. I have to admit it’s kind of lonely here.

Liz is in Santa Fe, David is with her and my arch enemy has returned to her home in Meanland so there’s no one on the floor but me.

Speaking of Liz, a bear broke into her father’s house.

On second thought, being lonely isn’t the worst thing.

I’m going back to Steph’s house tomorrow.

It seems that she had to jump up and run on her bad foot in order to grab a live woodpecker out of her cat’s mouth. Clearly she isn’t getting the care she needs without me being there.

I know people really love living in the country but,  huh?

And that cat needs a talking to also. Why would he even want to eat woodpecker?

Speaking of eating. I had dinner with Julie today.

We both were feeling a little low. In fact when I walked in she said “You look like I feel”. Not flattering but true assuming she felt like shit.

Again continuing with the theme, (this is what makes me a brilliant though undiscovered writer) speaking of shit, when questioned, Julie admitted that her low feelings had to do with her apartment getting an influx of roaches and when she woke up this morning one of her dogs took a dump in the hall and when she picked it up a roach ran out from under it.

Anyway once we got to the root of her problem, Julie and I perked up and went out to dinner.

I never found out what was bothering me, probably not being able to watch CBS because of fucking Time Warner but seeing Julie made me happy because I love her so much and tomorrow I’m seeing someone else I love, Stephanie, so no complaints here.

I just came back from my niece Stephanie’s house. She had an operation on her foot and was really incapacitated so I was helping take care of her.

I’ve told you about this house before. It’s magnificent if you don’t consider cable a necessity.

The day I got there I was sitting on the couch with one of Steph’s cats on my lap thinking, maybe I should get a cat. I wouldn’t feel so bad leaving them alone the way I would if I had a dog, especially if I got two of them .

Then I stepped outside and right in the doorway was a murdered vole.

No cat for me.

One of the things about getting old is you think things like, “I remember when a quart of milk was a quarter”.

If you’re smart you never say these things aloud.  The world changes and you change with it if you have any hope of people wanting to spend time with you.

But every once in awhile something hits you in the face and you can’t help but react.

While I was there I found out something that I had no idea about.

It seems that young women no longer have hair on their pussies.

I couldn’t believe it.  Steph seemed surprised that I was surprised.

I had heard of bikini waxes but no hair at all? It seems like pedophilia to me.

I realized that this needed more investigation but I put it on my back burner until I was able to look into it further.

Surprisingly the opportunity came up almost immediately after I returned home.

I was at David’s house for dinner last night with his sons and his son’s girlfriend.

One of his sons had pictures from a bachelor party he had been to in Vegas and I looked at his cell phone and saw a picture of who I assumed was the soon to be groom with a naked stripper on his head and sure enough this girl was bald as an eagle.

I had no choice but to question the three young people about this new phenomena.

You’d think that of these free thinkers at least one of them would be willing to discuss it but no. Even David who usually encourages me to speak my mind seemed to turn on me.

“Why are you talking about this?  And at dinner?”

“Who else am I gonna ask? I’m assuming that the two boys have seen lots of pussie’s and the girl has one. What’s the big deal?”

Obviously it was a big deal to them.

I decided to cool things down and drop it.

“Did I ever tell you guys that when I was a kid a comic cost ten cents. oh yeah and we didn’t even comb our twats”