Frankel and I had a helluva weekend. There's a man without an OFF switch, tell you what. We even roped our friend Alice into the whole vile scene. I don't know why she puts up with us. That's not entirely true.
I've been reading a lot of Hunter S. Thompson lately. The man was a menace sine pari. I was telling Frankel and Alice, on a perfectly benign Friday evening at The Lakeview, that Thompson once snorted cocaine through a plastic drinking straw and out of the back of an old glass eye. Right on a patio in Cozumel, Mexico. And goddamn Frankel says, 'That's a terrific idea!
Frankel doesn't have any glass eyes at his place but he does have a human skull, for chrissakes, left over from a Hallowe'en party we threw last year - four months ago - an utter fiasco the less remembered about which the better...
Now it's dawn Saturday morning and we're strewn around Frankel's deck in our goddamn underwear and overcoats, the skull upturned on the table with these absolutely obscene pink drinking straws sticking out, like where the neck should be, and two bottles of J&B one of which is half full of cigarette butts.
Alice keeps dunking her head in a bucket of cold water but I don't know where the hell it came from.
Frankel is sitting in full lotus talking to me about Toronto restaurant reviews, which are a pet peeve of his.
'There's just no restraint, no responsibility,' Frankel is saying.
'I agree Frankel, totally unreliable. Nothing ever gets less than three stars. There's no integrity.'
'Well,' Frankel gets that gleam in his eye, 'we should do something about it.'
Alice is making guttural noises deep within the bucket. Bubbles and such like breach the water's surface.
'Nobody would read our reviews, Frankel. Nobody!'
The last time Frankel and I went out to eat - Alice came too - we brought our own music, a giant Boom Box, double D batteries and everything, except the only goddamn tape I had was of The Ring Cycle. Plus I was wearing at t-shirt with 'HIV neutral' embossed across the front, which was getting all kinds of sideways glances, and Alice was sitting there with her skirt pulled up around her hips and knitting her underpants; the very same pair she was wearing!
And that freak show skull was in the middle of the table, with Frankel asking the waiter for three of his finest drinking straws, please.
I've been reading a lot of Hunter S. Thompson lately. The man was a menace sine pari. I was telling Frankel and Alice, on a perfectly benign Friday evening at The Lakeview, that Thompson once snorted cocaine through a plastic drinking straw and out of the back of an old glass eye. Right on a patio in Cozumel, Mexico. And goddamn Frankel says, 'That's a terrific idea!
Frankel doesn't have any glass eyes at his place but he does have a human skull, for chrissakes, left over from a Hallowe'en party we threw last year - four months ago - an utter fiasco the less remembered about which the better...
Now it's dawn Saturday morning and we're strewn around Frankel's deck in our goddamn underwear and overcoats, the skull upturned on the table with these absolutely obscene pink drinking straws sticking out, like where the neck should be, and two bottles of J&B one of which is half full of cigarette butts.
Alice keeps dunking her head in a bucket of cold water but I don't know where the hell it came from.
Frankel is sitting in full lotus talking to me about Toronto restaurant reviews, which are a pet peeve of his.
'There's just no restraint, no responsibility,' Frankel is saying.
'I agree Frankel, totally unreliable. Nothing ever gets less than three stars. There's no integrity.'
'Well,' Frankel gets that gleam in his eye, 'we should do something about it.'
Alice is making guttural noises deep within the bucket. Bubbles and such like breach the water's surface.
'Nobody would read our reviews, Frankel. Nobody!'
The last time Frankel and I went out to eat - Alice came too - we brought our own music, a giant Boom Box, double D batteries and everything, except the only goddamn tape I had was of The Ring Cycle. Plus I was wearing at t-shirt with 'HIV neutral' embossed across the front, which was getting all kinds of sideways glances, and Alice was sitting there with her skirt pulled up around her hips and knitting her underpants; the very same pair she was wearing!
And that freak show skull was in the middle of the table, with Frankel asking the waiter for three of his finest drinking straws, please.
