Friday, March 1, 2013

Props to Sudsy (cough, cough)

My number one least favorite thing to do (right up there with drinking sour milk, exercise, and
hanging out with Sudsy) is to give Sudsy props.  But the truth is, the ghost can be a powerful
motherfucker sometimes.  Funny.  Theatrical.  Like all the Cats from Cats rolled into one big dead
stinking cat covered in some gross towel from the bathhouse.
If you didn't know, he can assume many forms, so long as that form is white and sheet-like.
Yesterday he pretended to be this building on the Bowery in Lower Manhattan.
A cool stunt.  I figure if I'm lightening up on the guy who plays Nick on the Zooey Deschanel
show, "New Girl", I might as well give it up to old Sudsy.  One Trinidadian Nanny went running
and screaming the other way, abandoning the ugly little brat she was pushing in one of those
2,000 dollar Swedish/Nordic baby strollers that Brooklyn parents kill for.  Sudsy seized his
opportunity, threw the kid in a mailbox and rolled the pram back to our apartment.
Now he uses it to push around his favorite rags and cleaning products (which he always
spoke to in baby-talk anyhow).


  1. Trademarked green spectral aura is a nice touch.

  2. Sudsy transformed into a toilet seat cover so I flushed him down the toilet. We need to call Fintan the handyman.

  3. SUDSY is lying. He lies because his brain doesn't work right. He cries when we watch the Office (he feels bad for Dwight). When he scrubs potatoes clean -- he just keeps on scrubbing till there's nothing left. He laughs when he sees flowers bloom (because they will die soon). He is mesmerized by watching me clip my fingernails, and giggles at almost every snip. He forces me to play "Jump" where he stands on our roof and makes me beg him not to jump. Then he always jumps. He talks to the wall, mostly about Napoleon. He writes letters to the government, trying to get the recycling laws turned around -- he just thinks everything should be destroyed. He carries around a brick of index cards, on which there is written a 72-hour speech that he claims is good for ANY occasion should it arise.

  4. A. Yes you are.
    B. I did tell a teeny lie that time I said you looked "OK" in that tiara you wore to our Oscar Party. You looked GREAT.
    C. Why do you have to bring up our failed punk rock opera project "Who Cares Maggot Brain?" We wasted 3 years of my life (you have no life) working on it and all we have to show for it is an old cassette tape filled with you doing strange Sid Vicious-style renditions of late-70s era Cliff Richard songs. I didn't get it at the time and I still don't. I'll always support your singing, but I still don't get it.

  5. Fuckoff Hill?


    No relation to Benny Hill