What Does the Focks Say?

I'm sure you've heard by now of this ridiculous pop sensation "What Does the Fox Say?"



It wasn't even meant to be a song. A Norwegian comedy duo did it on their show, and somehow, inexplicably, it spread around the world like a virus.

I do have to admit that I find the song catchy, though the video and the animal costumes really freak me out. But it has definitely jumped the shark.

Abercrombie and Fitch made its own video of the song and then came out with this t-shirt which is like a trifecta of cultural doucheyness.

If this song has gotten on my nerves you can only imagine what is has done to someone who shares a name with the song's title character.

I interviewed Focks for this post and he said people have said to him "what does the fox say?" so many times that it's affected his brain and made him likely to murder the next person who mentions that song to him.

Focks Wedding

Matt and Julie looked cute enough to be the bride and groom on top of the wedding cake -- and short enough too. Badum chhh, thanks Juice.



The Focks affair was a delightful event at the Bethpage State Park, right near the famed Bethpage black course which occassionally hosts golf's US Open.

The grounds were so nice they elected an outdoor ceremony -- in the middle of August. Being the sweaty Jew that I am, I was schvitzing before the bride even made her way down the aisle. In retrospect it might have been our fault for choosing to sit on the empty side rather than the crowded side, which was crowded because it was in the shade.

I survived the ceremony, which was beautiful by the way and made it to the cocktail hour, thankfully. I have heard that the food was delicious, but I wouldn't know because I spent all my time at the mashed potatoes station. This is something I was praying would be at another wedding since I didn't really get to enjoy it at my own.

This would be just the beginning of the delicious food I would enjoy, but more on that later.

The fireworks really started when somehow Juice convinced Mrs. Poop to do a shot of Patron with him. Feeling left out the Juicette and I felt we had to one up them, so we did a shot -- and had sex.



Later Juice tried to order a huge round of Patron shots for all assembled until a woman intercepted a shot intended for her daughter, chastising Juice with a "she's only 16."



Later that same girl was telling Amber and I that her cell phone had been taken away because she went over her minutes and sent too many texts. Sounds like cute, very typical teenage girl behavior. Little did we know.




One of my favorite parts of a Jewish wedding is of course the Hora. Over the years TallSkott and I have become very good at orchestrating the lifting of the bride, groom and immediate family members in the chair. This time we were joined by TON and Juice making a very powerful quartet. We probably could have lifted Brock Lesnar, which is good because it seemed like just about everyone in the place got a ride.



One of the people we lifted -- I think (please forgive any inaccuraccies or omissions in this post, my memory is faulty and my notes were incomplete) was the mother of the groom [corrected: ok, we didn't lift her, the following is accurate anyway]. She was an occassional substitute teacher when I was in elementary school and she still carries those scars to this day. She confronted me about my behavior those many years ago and then proceeded to inform Mrs. Poop about what a "pain in the ass" I was. When I laughed and tried to convince I had changed and become a good man, she didn't seem convinced. Then I told her I had a son of my own now and would probably be cursed by him turning out just like I did, she said "you can't let him."

After that, I was kind of hot and tired again so I went to the bar for a beer and a shot or two.



Dinner, like the cocktail hour, was delicious. I had the filet mignon, Juice has the duck, which I assumed he liked because he screamed out "I want to fuck this duck" while eating.

After a good deal more dancing and partying and drinking, it was time for dessert. Fresh baked cookies, a sundae bar, and a whole bunch of other shit I don't remember eating or seeing because I was too drunk from the Patron, too full from the ice cream or perhaps both.

It started off with a crazed Amber licking sprinkles out of the palm of her hand and saying "they let you eat as many sprinkles as you want."




I then got my own sundae loaded with just about everything you can think of, M&Ms, gummi bears and who knows what else. I also had several chocolate chip cookies and a lemon sorbet to clean my pallette. I never even made it to the other side of the room.

Despite the great location, the great music and dancing and of course the great food, the best part of the Focks wedding was the great friends. The entire crew was there, so were all the ladies (including Mrs. Reissberg, less than two weeks after delivering Darren) and we all had a great time together.

Thanks to Matt and Julie.

Dispatches from Vegas

I received a bizarre late-night phone call from the Focks bachelor party contingent last night.

It started with Freedo saying "hello, this is Etan Thomas." Then he started shouting obscenities about Eric Devendorf before the Concierge wrested the phone away from him.

The Conch then told me of his dismay that Warren Moon had just walked into the restaurant (Wolfgang Puck's) with 7 hot women and was seated immediately. The Conch voiced his displeasure at the preferential treatment given to an accused wife-beater. Evidently he voiced these concerns too loudly for Nails who urged him to shut up.

Then TallSkott took the phone so the brothers could argue. Scat continues to insist he will head over to the Rio at some point to check out the World Series of Poker though I believe this has a less than 1% chance of happening since he probably won't find anyone else in the group willing to join him.

But if the Conch can pick a fight with a former NFL quarterback I'm ready to believe anything.

Which is Gayer?

What Do You Give Me For? Ted Allen and Focks

Story Suggested by Mrs. Nails

The Whole Crew

Two excellent pictures of the Staten Island crew taken at JLeary's wedding.

From left: Nails, The Poop, The Concierge, JLeary, TON, Focks, TallSkott, Reissberg




Photos courtesy of Special K

What Do Diesel and Focks Have In Common?

They both like the Mets.
They both root for college football teams which started the season 0-2.
They are both Jewish.
They both have difficult to diagnose stomach ailments.
They both are on restricted diets.
They both have JSS.

To translate, Diesel has been sick (vomiting and diarrhea) intermittently during the summer and after a couple vet visits they still don't really know what's wrong but think it might be inflammatory bowel disease.

TON and Special K's Wedding

TON and Special K are now Mr. and Mrs. TON.
It was a nice, quick ceremony full of the requisite retarded/uncomfortable faces by TON.
A kind old judge led them through the paces they hit all the high notes "sickness and health, for richer for poorer," "with this ring I thee wed," and "you may kiss the pride," so TON did and then they were pronounced Mr. and Mrs. TON.





Then we went inside for some drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The best one was a shrimp wrapped in bacon, but it was a little messy. JLeary had a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth, I had to go in the corner to eat one, but they were delicious. And the first time they came around four of us got them from the waitress and I was the only one to offer it to my wife. Not sure I would have if she weren't pregnant, but she declined. She knows how much I love food wrapped in bacon.

A little while later it was time for the best man's speech. Now, because I know TON from high school, but we also went to college together, I knew pretty much everyone.

It was nice to see good old BC again, RoachSU made it in for the wedding and Briles (formerly known as the Commish) was the 5th person from our floor freshman year at the wedding. I also got to see VinJuiceTang again. And the best part of that was that in a conversation with Vin earlier in the week I said he was going to be mistaken by everyone as a relative of the bride. Then when I was talking to him, someone came up to him and asked "are you related to the bride?"

And another SU alum, who made the trip in from Denmark was the best man P-O'T. He seemed kind of nervous but he was really funny and encapsulated TON and Kelly pretty well. Basically they like do crazy shit like skydiving, ice climbing and getting eaten by animals in Africa together.




One of the cooler parts of the wedding was when the band took a brief intermission and when they came back it was TON's dad on the keyboard along with his band he's been playing with for 40 years. Between the four band members they have ten kids, 6 of them have gotten married, and they've played a few songs and each wedding. They started off with "Pretty Woman" by Roy Orbison, then went to "Gimme Some Lovin" by the Spencer Davis Group and finished with the all-time crowd pleaser, "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond.



TON even tried dancing, something he does reluctantly, and not very well.



But TON's cousins got the dancing genes in the family. When they band played "Play That Funky Music" two of them started getting down on the dance floor, ending with one of them taking off his shirt. Apparently this is a wedding tradition for him.



The second coolest thing at this wedding was one of those little photobooths where you cram in there and the flash goes off and you get a nice strip of 6 pictures of you and your wife/girlfriend making funny faces at each other.

In this case you took 6 photos cut the strip down the middle put three in album for TON & Special K and kept the other three for yourself. Mrs. Poop and I did this twice, we got some nice photos including one with the Concierge's hand behind me.

Focks, TallSkott and I tried to cram into the booth with varying degrees of success. When you have a head as bag as TallSkott's it takes up a lot of room.

But that paled in comparison to the fact that instead of wedding cake, the served cupcakes. They were so delicious I must have had about four...teen of them man.

At first I planned to have two, then RoachSU and I spotted a couple lonely ones, than TallSkott offered me one that was just sitting on our table, and then the Conciergette yelled at me. But they were freakin delicious.





Here's the crew from left to right: Brother of the Bride, TallSkott, Reissberg, TON (how did the groom get sent to the back of this picture?), The Concierge, JLeary, The Poop, Focks and VinJuiceTang.



And the ladies in our lives: Zorf, The Conciergette aka TallJulie, Mrs. TallSkott, MayMay, Special K (the bride), Mrs. Reissberg, Mrs. Poop, Mrs. Nails and Bauer's Mom aka Short Julie.

The Concierge's Birthday

The Concierge celebrated his 29th birthday Saturday night at the Blue Owl in the East Village. It's down the street from a defunct gay bar, appropriately named "Dick's." The Owl is next to the local neighborhood rub-n-tug.



I was only involved in two conversations the whole night: people only wanted to talk to me about The Poop and Baby Poop.

Half the people wanted to make their own baby and half the people want to make The Poop.

Juice's new gal pal seemed willing to do anything to make the blog and I stupidly forgot to ask her to show her tits. TallSkott and I spent 15 minutes grilling Michelle (we want Juice to find someone special). The leggy 24 year old seems really cool and I think her and Juice will get along very well as long as they can keep their ADHD medications separate.



Funniest moment of the night of course goes to the Concierge on his own birthday. For some reason there was a locked door, behind where we were standing. We had no idea what was behind it, but The Conch said "I bet I can jimmy this lock in 10 seconds." Two seconds later he slams his credit card through crack in the door and 'click' the door opened. Turns out it was just a hallway.



Focks made it out despite his injuries. But here he looks like he's about to vomit on Julie's cleavage.





Juice and his new paramour wanted to dance (probably because neither of them can sit still) so they begged the DJ to play something other than 1920s jazz. Turns out he had an old Tribe record and played about 3 songs in a row. He also played "Respect" off "Ready to Die" and we argued about who the reggae singer was, I said Diana King and of course I was right.

The Blue Owl is the only Manhattan bar I've ever been in that's crowded at 10 and empty at 1. So we cleared out pretty early and while some went back to Focks's sister's to play Guitar Hero I went home secure in the notion that although the Concierge had gotten a year older, he definitely hasn't gotten a year more mature. And that's a good thing.

Focks Gets A Dog

Focks adopted a dog. He got a 2 month old Shih Tzu and named him Bauer. He is going to teach the dog to say "Who Are You Working For?"
After searching for months on websites and in shelters, Focks was unable to find a dog appropriate for his living situation (a young, small breed dog) so he went to a pet store where he saw the little pooch and fell in love. After 30 minutes of playing and getting to know each other Focks decided to get Bauer.
Right now, Bauer is experiencing some gastro-intestinal issues (the apple doesn't fall far from the tree), but I'm sure he'll eventually get on to a healthy eating schedule.
Bauer is about 2 months old and 3 pounds, with an expected size of 8 to 12 pounds.
I trust that Matt will do a good job raising him with some tips from his friend El Cesarito De La Hierba Buena and The Conciergette, a budding pack leader.
Once Bauer is fully vaccinated we'll try to get him and Diesel together for a playdate and a photo shoot.

Juice's St. Patrick's Day

Story and photos courtesy of Focks:

Julie and I brought Juice to Saloon (84th and York) where many of Julie's friends were celebrating St. Patrick's Day. Upon arriving (8:30pm-ish), we immediately notice every single person is completely wasted. In effort to 'catch up' to everyone, the three of us decide to begin double-fisting Bud Light cans. Julie knows every single bartender (and probably knows 20% of the entire crowd) so we begin doing Jameson shots and chasing them with beer. Once he is finished talking with a few girls (i.e. Girl Juice used to babysit, Irish Charo, Beverly Hills girl, a few of Julie's friends), we go back to the bar and drag Julie to get us more drinks. The bartender explains to us how he lost Juice's (one and only) credit card and tells us drinks are free for the remainder of the night.
As the drinking continues and the bar is utterly chaotic, Juice decides to elevate his speed of inebriation by drinking a full glass of Jameson (as if he is drinking water). The results of this move will prove costly.

As the night rolls on, Julie and I are beginning to lose sight of Justin. At roughly 1am, Julie and I find Juice leaning/swaying against a railing and acknowledge it's time to go because he's about to drop to the floor.

We find a cab and throughout the entire ride, Juice is visibly wasted and mumbling and the non-english speaking driver is laughly hysterically. On the FDR, the driver locked the doors because Juice was trying to open them. We tell the driver he is always like this and not to worry.

As we exit the cab on 18th Street and 3rd Avenue, Juice's drunk hysteria takes full effect as he tries to run north up 3rd avenue away from his building. I immediately chase him and push him toward the building. Of course, he is very stubborn and he drops to the ground.



Fiiiiiinally, he gets off his buttocks, starts walking and then attempts to wrestle me.




At this point, he drops on his back on the freezing cold sidewalk and becomes a disaster.






After about 5 minutes of lying on his back, he turns over and lies his head on the snow.




Of course, he has no idea what is going on; he has no idea that the beige concrete and dirty white snow is not his bed. I'm finally able to physically remove him from the ground and we walk in to the building where the doorman is laughing as well. The three of us get in the elevator. I press 6 (it should have been 3) for Juice and 14 for Julie and me. Juice gets off on the 6th floor and that's the last we see of him. Julie recommends that we stop and go back and help him but after about an hour of his antics, I tell her he will be fine.

His version the next day: Juice wakes up in his apartment and finds a pile of vomit on his rug, which he immediately threw in the garbage. He later asks me how the night was.

Focks Fest

A rousing game of Taboo broke out at Focks' house in celebration of blonde Julie's birthday. The highlights:

My clue: "The gayest movie ever."
The answer: "The Notebook." Shouted out immediately by jusTON who later had to explain to Special K that he really liked the movie and didn't think it was gay. He was simply guessing what I would think was a gay movie.

Mrs. Poop's clue: "she's on crack."
The answer: Whitney Houston, by five people simulataneously.

The Birthday Girl's clue: Your moms are going through this ---
The answer: Menopause, by all the women at once.

After getting only two points in his round, Juice retreated to the bedroom in a pit of despair. He later redeemed himself.

Victory over the vaginas by the testes.

Matt's hosting skills. TON ate like 34 chocolate covered strawberries.

After making fun of Focks, he discarded about 12 bottles of cologne.

The girl with the Scottheads.