Terry O’Brien conjures up his weekly recipe full of wit, wisdom, and words in general
There’s a Fleet’s Enemas in my pantry. Let’s see… 8:58pm Sunday night, deadline is at 10… what to write, what to write… By the time you read this we will 10 days (or less) away from the big grand opening of the super-secret new Morey’s Piers attraction, which will be great for a couple of reasons; 1. It’s going to be a super terrific and memorable piece of equipment that I hope you’ll all come and check out then come and check out again with your friends and family (over 12) because I think it’s going to be THAT good. 2. I can finally talk about it. Thrown away will be the terrible shackles of secrecy that have hounded my days and kept me sleepless at night. It was that or all the nachos.
Either way, it’ll be fun to finally be able to chat about it without looking over my shoulder. I swear I keep seeing black helicopters with the familiar Morey’s Piers logo circling my house and following me home from work.
About 12 hours after I finish this column we begin real live actor training on the new dealie, which again I am terribly excited about. The last six months have all led up to the next 10 days and I’m just as curious as (some of ) you to see how it turns out. I just know I’ll be a very happy man come June 1st. (I’ve made funeral arrangements for that day, too… just in case.)
Have I told you I feel like I’m shrinking? It’s not so much that I’m losing weight (thank you for not noticing), but just… shrinking. My watch flops around on my wrist, my belt won’t hold my pants up, and my wedding ring now slides easily over my knuckle, but I feel like everything is exactly the same size it was before (watch it), only… less. Like my molecules is getting smaller or something.
Just thought I’d share that with you.
For the record, the terry.o’brien that’s been posting on the Website That Must Not Be Named is NOT me. The one who said “there are a lot of queers in Cape May” like it’s a bad thing.
Farewell Office Mate of the Week: Alas, just as I began touting the virtues of Kristel Fillmore (my Morey’s homey) I am being kicked to the curb, left to find pens, whiteout, and enough flat space to set up my laptop on my own. Kristel’s been aces. And I’m trying not to be offended by the 15 cans of Lysol and Tilex she’s been stocking up on.
Speaking of people who like me now but may not in a few weeks, DJ Jimmy J is about to become ALL KINDS of busy running Terry O’ke. The Reverend James Jay and the Karaoke Choir currently perform at the Ugly Mug (now on Wednesdays!), and soon start Tuesdays at The New Bayshore (5/25) followed in short order by the Boiler Room and the Atlas Inn. Plus, there are developments on the Chelsea Hotel in AC, but nothing to report yet. So… yeah… there’s that.
How to Win Friends & Influence People of the Week: I’m sure the owners of American Swimming Pools are fine, upstanding, God-fearing people. But I’m not sure that adorning the company truck with Dallas Cowboy stickers (including the now-passé Calvin-peeing-on-Eagles-helmet decal) is the best way to drum up new business.
Speaking of which, the more often Pat Jackson Jewelers asks me to be their Facebook friend the less inclined I am to do so. Pat Jackson’s is a fine jewelry store, but coming off a little needy. You know what might sway me? A little jewelry (the wife likes silver).
Next goddamn person that pulls out in front of me while talking on their cell phone is getting a ford Windstar up the @$$. It’s a five-mile drive from Morey’s to Erma. Three times last Friday this happened. And, not for nothing, ALL WOMEN.
I was very much enjoying a soup called Pepper Pot (I sometimes get adventurous in my selection of Campbell’s Soups), enjoying the spicy aroma and sharp tang, when I noticed what appeared to be schools of baby jellyfish floating around in the bowl. Close inspection of the can revealed that Pepper Pot’s main ingredient is beef tripe. Yep. Tripe. Can’t say I’ve never eaten Tripe now. Much as I wish I could.
Gigi Brisson (and man-pet Lonny’s) held their first annual Cape May mini-golf tournament on all three of Cape May’s fine mini-golf establishments (Stockton Mini Golf, Ocean Golf next to Carney’s, and Cape May Miniature Gold on Perry… if they sold beer at those places they’d make a mint… just sayin’) last weekend and were kind enough to invite the Flyin’ O’Brien (Owen, Jackson, Henry) to participate. The Flyins were only able to complete one round, but Gigi, Lonny, Mike, Eric, Brandan and Liam were able to finish all three. Thanks you guys, it was great.
After five years we are finally a Nielsen-Free family! For the first few years it was pretty neat to know we played a small role in the fates of so many TV Shows, and it was only because of Nielsen and my innate goodness that I began watching critically adored but ratings starved shows like LOST and Arrested Development, and my life is better for it. But the process (logging-in/out EVERY time someone leaves/ enters a room) began to wear and it was time (plus, five years is the limit). So you can now expect the South Jersey ratings for On Demand Porn to plummet while I keep reaching for the phantom Nielsen remote.
My favorite pizza on Earth (Cape May Pizza on the Washington Street Mall) is apparently no longer. This according to some very close sources of mine who loved the crispy thin crust that has recently been replaced by a thicker, prefab version. My source invited a friend on MY strong recommendation only to be thoroughly devastated when the subpar pie arrived. Hopefully they were just caught on a bad weekend with short supplies. This was my favorite pie in 40 years of eating pies, so it was atop a pretty hefty list.
Lastly this week, I’m pretty jazzed about my new short story which starts next week in the fantabulous first color issue of the year. It’s my first time working with recurring characters and I had a ton of fun with the premise. I only hope that fun translates to the page. You might recognize a few characters, as well. Feel free to hit me with your feedback. I’m always interested in hearing from those who think I’m great, and even moreso from those that think I suck (all criticism is useful criticism). I think it’s my Catcher in the Rye.
Til next time, don’t get caught in The Undertow.