When Black Friday comes, I'm gonna dig myself a hole. Gonna lay down in it 'til I satisfy my soul. Gonna let the world pass by me, the Archbishop's gonna sanctify me. And if he don't come across I'm gonna let it roll. When Black Friday comes, I'm gonna stake my claim. I guess I'll change my name.
Thanksgiving is quickly coming up. Let's see if you're prepared. Turkey: check. Stuffing: check. Detailed list of nightspots you'll be fleeing to when you can't stand another minute with your relatives: No clue?
It isn't everyday you see a clown, complete with clunky shoes and a red nose, hanging around Young Circle in Hollywood so I stopped to say hi. Her name is Miss Pidazzle and she sets up her curbside face painting and balloon folding shop in front of Mama Mia Italian Ristorante on Sunday nights from 6-8 p.m. (1818 S. Young Circle).
Now that the election is over, I'm sure you could use a drink or two. And depending on how many hours you've clocked with CNN or MSNBC over the last few months, maybe three or four or five.
My most memorable Halloween moment: I was 11 years old and showed up for Hebrew school with orange hair. The principal, a tough, retired Israeli Army officer, stuck my head in the janitor's sink and washed the color out of my hair while screaming at me.
Do you know what a seine is? Do you know anyone who has personally pursed the seine? Don't bother Googling any of this. Trust me -- it isn't worth the pay off.
Questions and answers about Oktoberfest: Why is it celebrated? Centuries ago, a wise man in Tibet opened his eyes after a fortnight of continuous meditation and revealed a prophesy to his disciples. He predicted a special boy would be born in mid-October, 1972. This boy would bring balance and peace to the universe using his divinely inspired sarcastic wit.
The Dow dipped below 10,000 for the first time since 2004. Banks are failing. Oil prices are tanking. Gold and silver may prove to be lackluster solutions and the value of our dollar is despicable.
I know that, as a guy, I'm supposed to care about Major League Baseball. I know I'm supposed to stand around the water cooler and verbalize manly things like, ``Hey, did you see So-and-So make that catch last night?''
Three things I find absolutely bizarre about Rolling Stone: 1. The magazine has been sent to my house for the past 11 years and I haven't, as of yet, signed up for a subscription.
I became a vegetarian by default -- my girlfriend was one. But now that my girlfriend is my ex, I headed out to Chima Brazilian Steakhouse to renew my life as a carnivore.
I used to be in telephone sales but I was forced to get out of that line of work because I was lousy at it. ``Hi, my name is Gabe. Would you like to buy a (whatever)?''
I just made an expensive mistake. I went grocery shopping on an empty stomach. By the time I made it to the end of the cereal aisle, I had five boxes in my shopping cart. My brain knew I didn't need a month's worth of cereal but my grumbling stomach assumed the duties of commander-in-chief.
Paris Hilton and I are so similar we could be sisters. We're both blonde and beautiful. We're both billionaire heiresses. We're both on the guest list of every exclusive party in Vegas and we're both YouTube stars thanks to our risqué home movies.
When I was a kid, I absolutely hated the end of August. Those ubiquitous back-to-school sales were a vicious harbinger of the end of summer vacation.
I recently read an article in a fitness magazine about the health benefits of a weekly, 24-hour fast. According to its author, the scientific evidence backing up the argument for a self-inflicted, one-day denial is overwhelming.
10:35 p.m.: I'm sitting in bed watching Diners, Drive-ins and Dives on the Food Network. My mom calls me on my cellphone and instantly adopts an accusatory tone when she learns I'm ''wasting time'' front of the TV.
I don't remember how old I was when I took my first sip of beer but I distinctly remember my reaction: Yuck! Why do adults drink this?
My friend Johanna asked me if I wanted to go with her to see Mamma Mia! I had to consult with my oracle, imdb.com (Internet Movie Database), before accepting the invitation. The plot: The story of a bride-to-be, trying to find her real father, told using hit songs by the popular '70s group ABBA.
I went to see Matisyahu, who mixes orthodox Judaism with reggae beats, Saturday night at Revolution in downtown Fort Lauderdale. I wasn't interested in the opening band, so I sat on the stoop in front of the venue, and after deliberating for nearly an hour, scribbled this list of my favorite albums into my little notepad: Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run. Paul Simon's Rhythm of the Saints. Radiohead's Kid A. Jeff Buckley's Grace. Miles Davis' Kind of Blue.
Kill Bill Volume 2. The Empire Strikes Back. The Godfather: Part II. This is a nearly complete list of noteworthy cinematic sequels. Then you have flops like Weekend at Bernie's II or Caddyshack II. Sequels are no easy task, but inspired by the first list, I'm venturing back to the Shops of Pembroke Gardens for Part II of my trilogy.
Pembroke Pines isn't exactly a nightlife destination. You'll find a few bars, a couple of cafes -- and my grandma and her friends bragging about their grandchildren (''my grandson writes for The Miami Herald,'' she loves to tell her pals) on the shuffleboard courts at Century Village.
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