Father Frank

Was at a colleague's wedding party the other night (they got married in the UK and are on a multi-leg honeymoon) in some bar when this smelly old giffer walked in. "uh-oh, nutter" I thought.

But no. Well, smelly and old, yes. Unwelcome nutter, no.

It was Father Frank, a friend of the newlyweds and quite a few people there. He's a retired local Catholic priest that they'd somehow befriended. Amusingly, when asked what he wanted to drink, "wife beater" came back the reply. No ordinary priest then.

After about an hour and just after scoffing lots of cake, he got up, put on some priest-y robes and blessed the bar. And the doorframe. And the pooltable. And the floor. And everyone in the bar. Whilst doing this, he was sprinkling holy water on each item he blessed. I kid you not. It was ace.

chips

I just had a right good laugh at lunch today. A laugh at the Americans' expense - the best kind of laugh there is.

I was in the excellent cafe at work when I spotted fish&chips on offer. Being a traditional Friday favourite of mine, I made a bee-line for it.

Only to find loads of Americans clamouring to load up on fish & crisps. Yes, the chef had interpreted "chips" the American way and baked up loads of freshly baked crisps, which the Americans were loading all over the fish. They were loving it! Fish&crisps - brilliant. Bless 'em.

Even better for me was that they were also serving "Steak fries" which are essentially potato wedges in the UK, and gravy!

So I had my cake (fish&chips) and ate it. And a laugh at the Americans' expense included for free. Excellent.

A cacking good laugh

Last night I went out for a drink with a lass from a dating website. She's a clothes designer, from New Jersey initially, but now living in Manhattan.

Why am I telling you this? Because she brought her dog along. New Yorkers are mad on dogs. Bonkers-mad. Dog perfume, dog booties, dog restaurant mad.

Now, there's nowhere for the dogs to run around - Manhattan's got no greenery apart from Central Park. The solution? Get tiny dogs.

Her dog was a little chihuahua, like this little fella
. Who, once at the bar, behaved impeccably and was given a nice bowl of water to drink. However... having only just met, as we walking to the bar, the little scamp decided to curl one up on the pavement!

Being British and a prude, I was rather embarrassed for the girl - having just met someone and the next minute standing there with your dog straining out poop onto the floor. However, she was totally unfazed. She looked down (quite a way too - she's 6'1" and the dog's about 10 inches) with thinly veiled mock disgust and searched for a dog-shit-bag-container-thing.

But no, she'd forgotten her shit-bags (or whatever they're called). Fazed now, surely? No. She simply got out an envelope she had, scooped up said cack and popped it in the bin. Cool as you like. I was impressed. And slightly gobsmacked.

THEN, as we were crossing an avenue (i.e. big busy road) the tiny pooch tried to bust another one out! This time it was not so easy as the lights were changing so he got dragged, still pooping, to the pavement. Once safe on the pavement Sonia (the lass) turned to go clean up but the traffic was all over that shit... literally. And vice versa quite probably. So, she admitted defeat and we moved swiftly on.

All in all, an amusing, "only in New York" evening.

Mentalist

Being a mentalist in NY is fucking expensive. I see a guy called Michler Bishop every week. He's nice and all but charges $175 for 45 minutes. Fuck. He said I should call a colleague of his to get some meds/drugs/happy pills. She's mid-30's and an Aussie, so it transpires.

I just called her and she charges $400 for a 1 hour initial meeting. Four hundred fucking dollars for an hour. I told her I couldn't afford it and she asked if I'd seen a psychiatrist before and how much I paid. "Yes" I said - "in the UK and it was about 90 pounds". "Well, $400 is the going rate here" she says. Nice line of work I think to myself.

Fuck.

Pete's tip of the day: don't get depression or anxiety or anything wrong with your brain. It's too fucking expensive. Don't be like Alan's mentalist fan below.

PEACE-OUT