Hallow's Eve

Halloween. To me and maybe to a select few, this word evokes memories of Frankie's classic teaching stories. Back in the hay day, when FB was employed by the Boston Public School system, he gave a lecture on compound words to some of his 7th grade students weighing in at 2 bills and pushing the age of 20. One such pupil, raised his hand to suggest an example of a compound word: Halloween: "When you see your friends you say hallow and when you're playing a game you gots to weeeen!" The story relays much better when read with a Caribbean-slash-Aussie inflection (because who can differentiate the two right? Riigghttt. Worked for me anyhow..)
With the World Series coming to a close this weekend, Noel trekking to Boston for her 25th birthday and a gala of opportunities to dress like an ass, there was no room for disappointment. Assault and Battery with a Deadly Weapon (aka Chuck Norris) made a late yet emphatic appearance in Southie last Friday. The trio disbanded Saturday evening but Assault and Battery held their own (as you would expect).

Is it appropriate to dress as assault for your first day on a pediatric rotation on Halloween? Naw, ya I didn't think so either..

Good things happen in the dark

The city of Boston has chosen to adopt the global Lights Out initiative beginning March 15th of the upcoming year. The idea centers on combating climate change. The city's light supply will be interrupted for 1 hour and the residents are asked to wing it in the dark, aside from the guidance of 1 fluorescent bulb. San Francisco had their "earth hour" the other night and it's been speculated that during this hour, San Fran saves 15% of the energy it consumes on a typical Saturday night. Those crunchy-granola folk may have been more excited about the opportunity to fine tune their seances but it's still pretty incredible, no? Boston may be a little slow on the uptake but we come around.

Ball Bustas

I felt this excerpt from our inspiring "bench coach" should be shared. Andrew Kelley writing about our softball team playoffs this Sunday vs. the Beavers:

How about those Ballbusters? After their loss to Balls deep last year no expected them to be back. But Chris Brandi stopped popping up to first base and Mike Early and Whitey stopped coming to games and they find themselves right back in the thick of things. And they have not one but two sibling combinations. I am not sure who is more dynamic the Halliseys or the Travers. And Mush and D-Mac and Coco and Dales...you have to have a nickname to be good. Hunter is at the back of their pen and Warner's inside out swing makes the girls' hearts swoon. And when Burkey is around, hey, hey I want to be a rockstar: all the good golddiggers are going to wind up there, all the playboy bunnies with the bleached blond hair. Mary has a silky stroke that's the envy of the league. Who can stop these guys? There's only one postseason. There's only one Fall Classic. There's only one October.

There's only one October. I live for this! Bring on the Beavers.

Dane Cook

Eloquent, right? I don't think I could add anything to that even if I wanted to. Here's to the Bustasss!

Makin moves

If anyone's looking for a rowdy night and is willing to throw down a few bills, I suggest renting out the Bustonian, complete with a comedic driver, a dance floor and stripper poles (to be expected). Mary Flynn turned 25 Saturday and by that I mean 25 tricks. Pole tricks, of course. Don't worry, we kept it PG but that's not to say we didn't all get a work-out. If you're willing and able to go this route, be cognizant that a) someone may inquire how many beers were spilled on you upon exiting the dance floor b) it's possible you'll recall that you haven't shown off your retired gymnastic skills in a while and hey! there are plenty of bars to flip from! c) Rachel Smith may just wind up on the bus by the close of the night AND get hit on by you and/or your friends d) once the eyelids fail to stay open, an antiquing opportunity presents itself e) it will be necessary to factor in a lengthy recovery period once the night finally concludes.

Is this turning into a birthday blog? In that case, happy bday Shannon Lyons! 142 Pearl would like to jump on this opportunity to make a mockery of our theatrical talents once again, this time in your honor. If you would so kindly take a listen, and possibly shake that thang, we'll have a preview of Saturday's dance-a-thon!
Shake it!

I'll dip to that

The mad dash began Friday at 5:30am and ended at some point while in a deep REM cycle the following morning. Mike Wilson is moving to L.A. so naturally there is going to be a farewell send-off which happened to be set for Friday evening. In preparation, I made a deluxe 10 layer garbage dip Thursday night that ended up hanging out in the McCabe fridge instead of making the transition to Cambridge with its creator. Well, alternate plans had to be devised for our runion. After a full day of feeling displaced fundi and engorged ta-tas, I headed to meet Daly to make the hand-off. While en-route, a train caught fire at Park St and initiated chaos in Boston. Standing amongst a throng of people on a street corner, I bumped into Whitey who was also going to meet Daly and the two of us jogged to Southie in search of the dip. Well, Daly pulled through, as per usual, and Whitey did his part by imparting me with a shopping bag for transport. As I'm entering the T, the dip chooses to put up a stink about all the mishandling and neglect and crashes to the floor. There goes mom's casserole dish and the drool-inducing dip spread over 4 stairs. My heart sinks for about 5 minutes before I declare that I can't show up to the party without dip in hand (mainly out of fear). Back at the apartment, I delegate the avacado smushing to Chris Doney (the roomie's little bro), while I address the stitches in his lip. Having never removed stitches before, a 5 minute process turned into 30 minutes. A quick drop off and I'm off to a last-minute concert. Reinvigorated, I return to pick-up the new dip before entrance to the fiesta. The dip is strapped into the passenger's seat and we're off. Five minutes into our journey, we feel a sudden, forceful "hey, how are you?" with a neighboring vehicle. Outraged, the dip and I pull over on Storrow Drive to attend to insurance protocol and feeling like we're pouring out at the sides, we fix our sloppy appearances. Annddd we made it (just as the Sox hit a homer to steal our glory)! In the end, the dip served its purpose and many bellies were appeased.