Dinner with my brother - an ongoing series

I have decided to start a series of posts that describe in excruciating detail what it's like to go to dinner with my brother. You might learn about fine dining in LA or you might hear stories about me pulling the fire alarm in an Italian restaurant to get out of the bill. Either way, I am sure there will be some mention of my brother eating a rotisserie chicken with his hands in a sushi joint (I think he brought it with him). With that said, there is no better place to start our adventure than to retell the story of having dinner last night at one of Los Angeles's finest sushi restaurants. Actually this is the story of not having dinner at one of LA's finest sushi establishments.

As some of you might know, I will only eat in one of two sushi places in the greater Los Angeles area. One is Nishimura, and the other is Jinpachi. Both are in my ignorant white person's opinion amazing. In fact the owner of Jinpachi is rumored to have worked at Nishimura for a time. I think it ended after he was caught taking polaroids of the fish so he would know exactly how to recreate the dishes for his own establishment. Lately, I 've been eating at Jinpachi since the last time I ate at Nishimura was my birthday dinner and as you may know I made a vow not to return. Okay, enough back story, we walk into Jinpachi at 6pm and I make a bee line to the bathroom to pee. I either have type two diabetes or the world's smallest bladder (a story for another time). While I am in the bathroom my brother sits at the sushi bar. Flash back to me in the bathroom, I take a piss, flush the toilet and start to wash my hands. As I am scrubbing my skin like any sane person with OCD does, I notice the urinal is running with extreme force and the water level is rising. I stare at it for a second and think, who cares, urinals don't overflow. Suddenly as I am drying my hands I notice the yellowy water is getting dangerously close to the urinal brim. Shit, time to escape. I grab fifty paper towels and open the door praying there is no skin to handle contact. As the door opens the water starts to pour out of the urinal onto the floor. I run to the first Japanese person I see and say the urinal is overflowing. After realizing he is just a customer, I tell the first Mexican I see. At this point water is rushing out of the bathroom into the restaurant.

I run back to the sushi bar out of breath and tell my brother exactly what happened. I describe running from the piss water as if I were Indiana Jones trying to outrun that boulder in Raiders. I can tell he isn't paying attention. He is just waiting for his turn to talk. As soon as I get out my last word, he informs me that the owner of Jinpachi is on vacation in Japan and that he doesn't want to be served by an underling. That is when the following occurred:

Lewis -looking directly at the sushi chef but talking loudly to me

CALL MY CELL PHONE RIGHT NOW!

Barry

Okay

I dial my phone and place it in my lap. A minute later my brother's phone rings. Thanks AT&T. He looks at the sushi chef.

Lewis

I need to take this.

Sushi Chef

Yoshi

My brother gets up from the table and walks outside. He paces back and forth talking. He walks back in.

Lewis - looking at the sushi chef

That was my wife. I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I have to leave right now to pick up my daughter.

Sushi Chef

Yoshi

I burst into laughter as I get up from the bar and run out of the place. I notice out of the corner of my eye, that half of the employees are using towels to try stop the toilet water from advancing throughout the whole restaurant.

Long story short, due to current circumstances, my birthday vow has been revoked. Nishimura is back in the rotation.

Stay tuned for more dining adventures with my brother in the coming weeks.

Technical Difficulties

For some reason my phone overwrote the post regarding the best and worst of 2011. Contrary to popular belief, I did not take it down due to its lack of humor. I will go to my grave knowing the worst day of 2011 was September 11th. It was the day my feet turned blue from stepping in a puddle while wearing my new ROOS. It truly was a low.

2011: The year of Mystery

As the year draws to a close, it's become common practice for bloggers to look back and compile a "Best of" sort of list that re-caps the year's highlights. Since I'm confident that you're all sick to death of hearing about "Watch the Throne", or "Game of Thrones", or any of that other throne crap, I thought I'd take the next few days to look back at the mysteries and puzzles that 2011 bestowed upon us.

First mystery: What's up with Mickey Rourke's Hands?



Or really, what's up with Mickey Rourke? Seriously the guy looks all sorts of fucked up these days, but when you consider the tough life he's had and the fact that he spent a good decade or so as a shitty boxer that took a lot of shots to the face, it kinda makes sense. Until you look at his hands, then you can't help but think of that crazy little Lamisil monster, right?



I mean this picture could be of Mickey Rourke standing in front of one of his own fingernails. It's no wonder Kim Basinger once called him "The Human Ashtray". But all kidding aside, what the fuck is up with those hands. If you look at the picture below, you can see it wasn't always that way...



Sure he's a little ham-handed, but he didn't have those creepy curved nail beds, or fat-ass fingers like the dragon from The NeverEnding Story. Sure being a boxer may toughen the hands, but what's going on with Mickey Rourke's paws is simply not human.

And then it occurred to me, that's it. You heard it here first, after examining photographs taken over several years and watching all of the Twilight movies while drinking cough syrup, I've come to the conclusion that Mickey Rourke is actually a werewolf.


Notice the similarity between MR's hands and this werewolf's paws? I read somewhere that he even tried to eat Steve Guttenberg on the set of Diner. I'd hate to be his manicurist....



Anyhow, so that's just one of the things that this crazy year's made me wonder about. I'll be back with more Mysteries of 2011 over the next few days.

Happy Hanukkah - Day Two - A musical number

On this second night of Hanukkah I am giving you all the gift of music. Enjoy the festivities.

Happy Hanukkah - Day One - Fear God

I just wanted to wish my fellow Jews a happy festival of lights. On this first night, we should remember that the Lord is all powerful. One year his magic provided a temple with light for eight nights when we all knew there was only enough oil to light that place up for one. Another year he gave me Destro with swivel-arm battle grip. Sadly it's not all good, this year he turned a blind eye on his people and let Bored to Death get canceled. I question not what I don't understand, but my guess is this has something to do with Talia Shire.

Joyeux Noel - 12 Days of Poop Jokes

I was thinking that between my poop post yesterday and my Twitter feed, there is the slightest chance that I discuss excrement a bit too much. It's possible that people have heard enough crowing jokes to last a lifetime. I did some soul searching and was about to lay off the constant chatter about my quivering bowels when I was given a sign from the gods to stay the course and never give up. Everyone knows that doodie is funny, even Santa.

Next time you're constipated during the holidays, remember it's probably Santa punishing you for being bad.

Writer's Bathroom

The other day I was talking to a two year old who happened to be sitting on a toilet (not at all creepy out of context) and I asked her to come up with her two best sitcom ideas. She cocked her head, grunted, and the next thing I heard was a splash.

Two Year Old

Oooooooooooh, I just made a little poop.

Barry

Good job.

Two Year Old (while grunting)

Let me make it bigger.

PLOP!!! - Not sure how to put sound effects into dialogue.

Two Year Old

I made it a friend!

Barry

I like where you are going with this.

I have no intention of giving her a writer's credit.

Our country is going to shit

Today I was eavesdropping on two five year olds and honestly I might need to go to therapy to get over the crap coming out of their mouths. I am only posting this to show you how far America has declined in the last thirty years. I warn you, the words you are about to read are graphic and disturbing. If for some reason you ever hear them spoken in your vicinity, I don't think there is a court in the land that would convict you of child abuse for the punches you would desperately need to throw.

Five Year Old (1)

I think Darth Vader is better because he can turn into a droid for attack.

Five Year Old (2)

No, no, I think Darth Sidious is better because of his battle grip.

What the hell is either of these brats talking about? Star Wars has clearly been ruined.

I know you're all disturbed by this pointless post ,so I hope this picture makes up for what I thought would have been a funny tirade.

Time for my nose to sweat

I am just putting the finishing touches on my spec script outline. It came out well except for the fact that my grammar skills indicate I was educated under a bridge by a pack of feral cats. I had a couple of people review it, pat me on the back for being clever, and of course fix what college couldn't. Now it's on to submitting it to my teacher so he too can pat me on the back and possibly provide me some notes, that will enrage me since I hate criticism. Once that is complete it is on to the next level to achieving my black belt in sitcom writing. The first class was all about the outline, and how Red Fox used to love coke (don't ask), and the second is all about the dialogue for each scene. I just realized this means I am going to have to read my script out loud on a weekly basis. I foresee my voice cracking and my nose sweating profusely each time I open my mouth. I might need to use robot voice to do all my talking for me.

Robot Barry