March 2005 Archives

Summers in Ocean City, NJ were wonderful in my youth.

Ocean City is a "dry town" - no alcohol is sold within its borders. You could buy beer or alcohol in Somers Point, across the bridge and bring it into town and drink it at home. No alcholic beverages were allowed on the beaches.

It was, and still is, a very family oriented town. Growing up there, during my summers, I didn't know any different. To me, it was normal that the town didn't allow alcohol. Also, my parents didn't drink at all - so it was never an issue.

My 3 favorite activities were:

1. Going to the boardwalk
2. Skateboarding
3. Playing Basketball at 34th Street

I spent many days playing pool over those years. We had a pool table in our basement in my Philadelphia home. My brother Kevin and I would play "pool tournaments" nearly every night, it became our competitive drive to see who could humiliate the other sibling. We would do trick shots, jumping the shot (the illegal way by popping the stick under the ball) and learning how "english" worked with the bumpers.

Little did I know that all this would come in handy one day when I decided to become a pool shark for a day.

I'm watching the game on Friday night, with Lisa - we decided to stay in, cook dinner (Creamy Chicken and Dumplings), and watch some Villanova basketball.

Woo, i'm a great date.

Actually we were up late Thursday at 66 and then dancing afterwards at some club in the meatpacking district. I have some interesting stories that can't go on the blog, but I got to meet a very important person in the world of finance who was nice enough to set us up with a table with champagne and a few bottle of booze at the club (he was a friend to one of the people at Lisa's party).

Cha-ching!

Ok, as for the Friday night horror movie we watched. Well, what needs to be said.

First what can be said is that I called this one. Go back to my Ed story and read what I said about Villanova:

"Because like all Philly teams they keep breaking your heart..."

Sure, I don't think anyone expected that Villanova was going to upset North Carolina - but those thoughts were gone when it was 21 to 9 and the Wildcats were hitting some crazy 3-point plays.

Lisa had a good, and noble take on it: "You have to be proud of your team playing so well."

Lisa isn't from Philly and therefore knows that noble ideals of "Good game" and "we will get em next time". Everyone else from Philly, like me, just sees another example of how a team from the Philadelphia area gets screwed/jinxed/cursed once again. Could it be William Penn's curse again?

It was Villanova's game to win, and they lost. It happens. One call by a ref doesn't mean that the game was going to swing our way - but certainly momentum was shifting towards Villanova.

I will try to be the more noble fan and agree that this is a young Nova team that will only be better next year.

Dear Lord, it just sounds like the same thing I say about the Eagles during the offseason. At least its only 26 days until the NFL Draft.

When I was growing up, I was a bully.

Well, that isn't 100% accurate. I was really just a bully to one kid: Brad.

Brad was the epitome of nerd. Big, dorky glasses. Greasy hair. A preference to wear corduroy pants and Keds shoes. Brad was the a-typical weakling momma's boy and teachers pet rolled into one - he was incredibly bright and was that kid you who would raise his hand first in class.

We first met in kindergarten. I was larger than most kids in height, but certainly not stronger. Being a child, with hyperactivity (now its called "ADD"), I was always terrifying my kindergarten teacher, Ms. Jones, with my antics and unrivaled energy. My mother was advised to put me on a new drug, called Ritalin, but she didn't like it very much. She decided against putting me on the drug, and would find alternative ways to control my wild ways. To this day, after hearing nightmare stories about kids on Ritalin, i'm very happy she didn't use drugs like that on me.

At the same time they were telling my mother that her little monster needed to go on drugs, they also thought I needed to be put into special classes for the learning disabled, since my attention span was that of a gnat.

I remember my mother taking me to doctors to examine me, and take some strange tests to determine my IQ. Imagine their amazement when it turned out that my intelligence wasn't that of a turnip but an astounding 143 IQ. Horray, i'm a genius.

Yet, for some reason I still sucked in school. Unlike someone like Brad who would run circles around the teachers with his knowledge, I was terrible in certain subjects - yet my creativity and insight was off the charts from what the doctors told my mother.

Worship me. Bow down before your master...

Oh, where was I?

Anyhow...what does all this have to with me and my story? Well, I was bullying Brad for the better part of kindergarten, first and second grade. It was around third grade that they threw the maniac known as Furey into the same classes with Mr. Brain - "The Brad". They had classes in grade school called "Humanities", which the kids like Brad & I would take while everyone else was doing "Social Studies" or "History".

Last night a group of friends went to Venue, on 5th and Washington to celebrate Lisa's 27th birthday.

My first impressions about the restaurant is that I like what they did with the place. It's large, spacious and uses minimalist modernism in the decor and tablewear.

They gave us the upstairs floor to ourselves, which comfortably sat the 16 guests. Lisa invited myself and my two roommates, Jon and Kristen to the event, and we were happy to oblige.

The night began with animated and casual conversation amongst the guests, and the wine flowed freely at the BYOB restaurant. Once everyone was seated I started my surprise for Lisa.

My friends at Hobokeni.com have decided to add me as the first blog for their "Calling All Blogs" category. I'm very flattered, and also noticed that yesterday the number of new visitors increased tremendously (www.statcounter.com). Last Monday I had 37 unique visitors - yesterday this site nearly doubled the number of visitors to 65. Welcome new people!

The people who have visited this site in the past few months were via word of mouth - mostly friends, family and the random person who somehow found this site via Google.

So now I have a bunch of new stangers wondering "WTF is this site?" I figured now was a good time to let the new people know what not to expect from the blog, so to avoid any future problems...

1. This site is not only about Hoboken. I live in Hoboken, but work in New York City. I am from Philadelphia - and love all the sports teams of that city, while hating nearly every New York team with a passion (especially the Yankees). I will write about Philly teams here often, if you don't like it, well that sucks, doesn't it?

2. I rarely proof read anything I write, simply because I don't have the time. You will find run on sentences, grammatical errors and spelling mistakes all over my entries. I try to limit them as best as I can, but I am reminded by certain anal readers about these mistakes.

3. This is a blog, not a serious professional website by any stretch of the imagination. If you are expecting "Gothamist for Hoboken" - i'd love to get to that point someday. Right now its just me, writing about my life. It was mostly inspired by the death of my father, a wonderful man who died before I could get to know him as a friend. My hopes for this website are to express myself through my experiences and words so my family and friends can get to know me.

4. This won't be a site where I disclose everything. I have certain things that I keep away from strangers - like my name of "Furey". I'm sure some of you may say "Hey I know that picture, his name is...." - cool, you know me. Lets keep that off-line for now. I try to not reveal my friends or family last names when I talk about them on this site. If you see something on the site that you object to - email me and I will alter/fix it if necessary. I'm still learning how much I want to reveal about myself and my life - I won't talk about where I work, for example - nor will I talk about work-life.

5. This site isn't about negativity. Lots of people think the internet allows them to spew hate towards people and its ok. If you see something I write and hate it, or have a negative comment - take it somewhere else, not here. I write the blog for those that enjoy it - if you don't enjoy it, leave. There are plenty of other sites out there for you. Hey - join hobokenchat.com and vent all you want over there!

That's about it. Today I am home from work - my first sick day in 6 months. I'm so bent out of shape about being sick - I so rarely get sick after I quit smoking. Tonight i'm going to a new restaurant with some friends in Hoboken for a birthday dinner (Happy Birthday Lisa!).

I hope to write up a mini-review about it and have some pictures from the night posted this week.

In town, there are minor celebrities all over the place.

Of course the biggest, is Frank Sinatra, who while dead, is still the soul of old school Hoboken.

We also have Danny Aiello, who 95% of the time can be seen within 10 yards of Tutta Pasta. The guy must live there. Also, for the record, Danny is very friendly to everyone and a class act.

Artie Lange, from the Howard Stern Show, lives in the Tea Building. Normally he can be found at City Bistro, and he is beyond drunk everytime I saw him. I think last time I saw him he was having an animated conversation with himself.

Eli Manning & Jeremy Shockey are said to live in town, but I haven't seen them on the street. I had some photo evidence that Eli is a lightweight not only ON the field but OFF the field.

Imagine my surprise when today, while walking up Washington Street - I see three of my friends on a billboard, advertising Coors Light. Heather, Lauren and Maria wearing black Coors Light t-shirts, holding Coors Light bottles all towering over the sidewalk on 2nd and Washington Street - here is the picture...

Heather, Lauren and Maria could be the three hottest bartenders in Hoboken, and they all work at Dipper's. Heather is a sweetheart, one of the most beautiful people I know - inside and out. Lauren was a former child model who I have known for years, and has a penchant for playing "Hangman" while drinking. Maria is a wonderful person and full of life, always quick to laugh (sometimes at my expense) and always ready to defend her honor with a good right hook (feel free to ask her about that story). Sorry fellas, all three are very much in relationships. But feel free to stop by the bar on 6th and Washington and throw money at them to make them like you. Just remember my tips on how to act in a bar.

I admit that i'm shocked - they are larger than life, over the streets of Hoboken.

Here are a few of my favorite pictures that I was able to save...enjoy...

A 2003 picture before my first and last game at Lincoln Financial Field versus the Patriots.

My father and I, before he was diagnosed with cancer at an Eagles game at Veterans Stadium around 2000.

My sisters and I at my brother's wedding in 2002.

Mom and Dad at the wedding, dancing. Only a short time later Dad was onstage singing "Sweet Caroline" with the band.

Pimpin' aint easy - Hoboken Haloween 2003 at Dipper's.

Dad, Mom and I at my brother's and sister-in-laws home during a memorable 2003 Thanksgiving.

That is just a small sampling of the 500 jpgs that the wizard was able to recover last night.

Some of you may know that I always loved PCs.

My first PC was the Vic 20. I used to get computer magazines and transcribe lines of code in order to make animated "Season's Greetings" or "Furey's Quiz" programs to entertain my family. Soon, I discovered games, which used to be on tape, and it was all downhill from there. My addiction began, and now, at 33 i'm just like I was as a youngster.

Except I have a hell of a lot more money to feed my "habit".

I have a PC from the manufacturer called "Alienware". Alienware is to PCs that Porsche are to cars - they simply are the highest performance PCs available on the market, designed for game playing.

In October of 2000 I purchased a top of the line Alienware Aurora, and it was blazing fast with its Thunderboard 1000mz Athalon processor.

4 years later, in March 2004, with a lot of gaming played and a tremendous amount of downloads to boot - my PC started to act funny. It began with the "blue screen of death" - which is a error message that appears on a blue screen with white writing that is displayed when your PC hits a critical error. My error was a problem with the kernel (very bad), and I disregarded the first few warnings.

Eventually my PC stopped booting. I tried a few things and I did get it to reboot once, and I was ready to copy some of my critical files to a CD. I only needed my PC to stay alive for about 45 minutes and I could save all my old digital photos and documents.

The gods of fate laughed at me that day and just as I was putting the CD into the drive - the blue screen of death appeared to mock me.

BSoD: "Copying something, Furey?"
Furey: "Why, um, yes. Some pictures of my family."
BSoD: "Pictures of family, hmmm? I take it you also want to copy those files from h0ttp*rn folder, too, right! Right?!"
Furey: "Of course not. I don't have adult pictures on my PC. Not me, boy it sure is hot in here maybe I can adjust the A/C..."
BSoD: "Oh shut up! The internet was invented for p*rn. Al Gore loved the stuff - why do you think he invented the internet?"
Furey: "I just want my family pictures, could I have..."
BSoD: "CRITICAL INTERFACE ERROR 000X001233SKE. PC WILL REBOOT IN 30 SECONDS...."
Furey: "Oh fucking hell."

The PC was dead. I couldn't boot past the startup of Windows, and I would keep hearing my hard drive make strange noises like it was gargling a rusty nail. I was determined to show my PC who was the boss - I fired up my second PC, an older, but trusty 486 which still had internet access.

Ok Eagles fans - its been 36 days since The Game.

Lets not talk about The Game. What happens in Jacksonville...well it doesn't stay in Jacksonville it gets replayed OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN. I HAVE WATCHED THIS FUCKING GAME ABOUT 5 TIMES ON TIVO...

Ok, wait. I'm fine. I'm fine. Calm blue ocean. Calm blue ocean. Ah, much better.

This is Furey's Pre-Draft Spotlight. April 23-24 is the draft, and i'm excited because its always fun to see what new and exciting players we get. Here are our draft picks:

1st Round - 31st Overall

2nd Round - 35th Overall (from Miami)
2nd Round - 63rd Overall

3rd Round - 77th Overall (from Kansas City)
3rd Round - 94th Overall

4th Round - 132nd overall

5th Round - 146th overall (from Washington)
5th Round - 167th overall
5th Round - 172nd overall*
6th Round - 211th overall*

7th Round - 245th overall
7th Round - 247th overall*
7th Round - 252nd overall*
* = Compensation pick, CANNOT BE TRADED

Here are my thoughts on what positions the Eagles need to address, as of now, due to free-agency losses, injuries and releases:

I have a lot of these, and my pain is your enjoyment...don't forget about how I lit myself on fire, which is the best story...

1. One day I had a compound bow. My uncle gave it to me, and I used to practice on a target at my house in Gwynedd. One day, I walked across the street (into a very large, empty cornfield) and put the bow setting to the highest level that my 16 year old arms could pull, and notched an arrow. I fired that arrow into the sky at about a 60 degree angle. Dude - that sucker was gone, I think I shot it about half mile away - it went so far that I had no idea where it went, I lost sight of the thing. I ran from the field in fear that I killed someone. I'm sure that one day, after that event, someone was walking in that cornfield and found an arrow stuck in the dirt and was thinking "Where the hell did this come from?"

2. I decided to drive from from Villanova one night to my house in Gwynedd. It was a snowy night, around 3am, but I had a Jeep Wrangler and I was overconfident with my 4-wheel drive. I was taking backroads the whole way home - and I got on one road that was complete ice. So I slowed to about 10 miles per hour and I swear to God I was crawling down the road super safe. Suddenly, my car just started to slowly, slowly spin on the ice at 10 miles per hour. It happened to slow and I tried to turn into the spin and it didn't work. It was like slow-motion. So I kind of gave up - literally - just crossed my arms and said "I'm screwed", adjusted my seatbelt and waited. In about 10 more seconds I drifted across the ice - into a snowbank - and revved my 4-wheel drive out of there. Had another car been coming in the opposite lane I would have been in trouble.

3. Another time i'm driving my dad's covertable european sports-car down the road, not far from my ice experience. It was summer, and there was a flash shower that lasted like 2 minutes. The rain, combined with the oil on the road = super slick conditions. I turned a corner and did a 180 into a pumpkin patch - sliding into the other lane and off the road at about 45 miles an hour. Again, if someone was in the other lane it would have been catastrophic. That wasn't my fault - I wasn't going that fast, and the freaking sportscar is made in Great Britian - aren't those bastards designed for rain?? That sucked. Fortunately there was little damage to the car (I think the tire rim got scraped up), and I just hosed all the mud off it when I got home. My parents never found out. Except right now as my mother reads this. Oh God.

4. One time I won a 3-point competition when I was 14, they had it during the halftime of my brother's basketball games. I was on fire that day, I just was hitting some great stuff. So they had another one where I was called out to try again...it was like my arms were laughing at me. I must have bricked it 5 times. Plus, my brother's friend, who worked on the yearbook was taking pictures that day and got me, in all my glory, into my brother's yearbook missing those shots with the tag like "Not Even Close". Nothing like destroying the fragile ego of youth.

5. I went to Killington with my high school club, and was snowboarding for a year. I go on the "FIS" ("Fuckin' Insane" run at Killington), and try to do the moguls. It was like the Hindenberg. Oh the humanity! My gloves, goggles, scarf, hat, board and nearly pants all went flying off my body. The first comment, from the chairlift right next to the slope, was "YARDSALE!" - of course making fun of the fact my clothing was spread all over the slope. The next comment, as I slid down the slope, head first, was "SUPERMAN!" because I looked like Superman would be - flying down the hill headfirst. Then, I had to walk BACK uphill, collect my clothing and dodge skiiers who were laughing at me. That was fun.

5. Dungeons & Dragons Club. Yep. Must I go into details here? Photo evidence also exists.

Bonus addition:

My Prom That Never Was

Last night I walk into Niketown on 57th street, to look for some gym-stuff, like shorts and t-shirts. I'm in the basketball section trying to figure out if I’m an XL or L for shorts and I’m quizzing one of the Nike employees on the waist size of an L vs. XL...when in walks two guys.

One is a white kid, not sure how old he was, and next to him was a gi-normous black man wearing a Villanova hat.

I perk up, because Villanova was my alma mater, and the Nike guy walks over to the guy in the hat and at first just does the, "Can I help you...", stops, looks and his bored demeanor switches to 'excited' and he shakes the guy's hand (the kind of informal side-street-ball-urban-hip-brother-handshake).

So I just pipe up from about 10 feet away, "Hey Villanova is my alma mater - do you go there?” First off, I had no idea how old this guy was, he just looked like a regular (if not very tall) black guy. Secondly, he was 10 feet away and I was just guessing he played a sport there and being like 6'10 - I knew he wasn't on the fencing team.

He replied back, "You went to Nova? When did you graduate?"

I said, "1994."

He says back, "That's cool I was 1985."

1985. Villanova. Nope, my brain is still on auto-pilot. Again, I’m kind of clued in that he was probably sports since Villanova is also known as "Vanillanova" - we weren't a very diverse school - many of the athletic black students were on the sports teams.

"1985? That's cool, my cousin was there around that time - maybe you know 'Joe Blah-blah'."

His eyes light up and he thinks about it, and seems to sound familiar to him - but he wasn't sure.

He asked if I was going to the game tomorrow (which is today), and I said no that I would be at work. I told him it’s hard to root for Villanova...

"Because like all Philly teams they keep breaking your heart..."

Yes. I said that. Later on I wonder why the guy didn't slap me (I’ll get to that later).

He asked my name and I told him, and he told me his name was Ed. We chatted a bit for about 2 more minutes, shook hands and I walked away. By this time the little gears were starting to turn in my head a bit and it was only starting to dawn on yours truly a few thoughts:

"Hey, that guy Ed was tall. He must have played ball at 'Nova. 1985? Let me think that is 9 years before me, and...OHMYFUCKINGGOD!"

I ran home and fired up my trusty PC...and go to google.com. I type in "Villanova Basketball Ed 1985" and get this link:

http://villanova.collegesports.com/sports/m-baskbl/mtt/pinckney_ed00.html

I was speaking to Ed Pinckney, the GOD of Villanova basketball - the guy who shut down Patrick Ewing - on the team that won the Championship - Villanova's one claim to fame.

I had no idea; I just thought it was some alumni named Ed, who was in the Nike store. I feel really bad now telling him that Villanova basketball would break my heart every year.

But then again. They play today. Maybe he is sitting in the locker room and telling his team, "I met this guy FUREY last night and he was an alumnus of Villanova. He told me that EVERY YEAR the basketball team breaks his heart! He says that he wishes he could root, but it hurts so much - what are we going to do about that? Let's win the tourney for Furey."

Hey, that is catchy.

So if Villanova goes all the way - you can thank me.

If Villanova loses. Well.

I told you so, Ed.

Yes, I’m clueless sometimes. Honestly I know many of you must be shaking your head thinking "YOU DIDN'T KNOW ED PINCKNEY?!"

In 1985 I was more worried about how I was going to lower the Armor Class of my monk in my Dungeons & Dragons game than watching Villanova (or any college) basketball. My weekends were spent worrying about Dr. Who being on PBS than the Wildcats being a Cinderella story. I was 13 and I was a nerd. Deal with it.

Ed - if you read this one day when you Google your name - it was nice to meet you.

Another weekend, another story to add.

This weekend was the Hoboken St. Patrick's Day Festival, which is celebrated each year on a pre-chosen Saturday before the actual St. Patrick's Day. They have a small parade, with firefighters, policemen, EMT workers, marching bands from local schools, the city officials and certain Hoboken dignitaries and VFW.

The bars have a very brisk business, with some lines outside of the popular watering holes lasting 2 hours.

Knowing this, and being a seasoned drinker, I decided to stay away from the bars and go to a house party that was thrown on 9th and Washington. I was invited by Lisa, a girl who I dated for about 2 months in 2002-2003.

There is a long back-story to Lisa, and I simply haven't written it yet. She reads this blog (hi Lisa!), and I warned her that some day that story would come to light. This is not that day.

The simple story about Lisa is that she and I are, well, attracted to each other. We very much enjoy each other's company. We dated, it was broken off by Lisa, because - like many of you readers may have experienced - the timing just wasn't right. She was the right person, wrong time.

Well, enough about that.

Lisa invited me to the party, at her apartment, which she shares with two dynamic roommates: Nicole and Krista. Nicole is Lisa's best friend, they have known each other for many years, and she has such an engaging and vibrant personality that overflows the cup of life.

Krista is a bit different, whereas her charisma certainly dominates a conversation, she also is extremely creative - it was her personal touch that was the catalyst in the design of the artistry of the apartment.

They all live on the 3rd floor of a Washington street walk-up, 3 bedrooms and 1 bath. I'll guess it’s about 900 square feet. The apartment also has a modest kitchen, plus a smallish family room which rounds out the apartment. It’s cozy and very Hoboken.

After I was invited to the party, I brought down my two roommates, Jon and Kristen. Jon just moved in about 6 weeks ago, replacing my old roommate of many years, John O. He is a great guy and once again my mad skills with picking roommates appears to have come through in the clutch.

Kristen and I have been roommates for over 6 months and I have learned a lot about her...things that I’m sure she wouldn't want me going into great detail here, since she, too, also reads this (hi Kristen!) blog. We chat a lot, and have a good chemistry as friends and as roommates. Of all my friendships that I have had over the years with my female roommates, she is the one I have grown closest. I brought her to Lisa's party with the idea of introducing Lisa's younger brother Thomas to her.

Also at the party were about 20-30 of the girl's friends and family. Susan, Lisa's older sister, was there with Leo, her new fiancé from Brazil. Leo just arrived the day before from his country and a large banner was displayed in the family room saying "Welcome Home Leo", amongst the green balloons and shamrocks.

The party started at 11am, but I never show up at a party when it begins - who wants to be FIRST to a party? I got my roommates over there just before noon, and wouldn't you know it - we still were the first people there.

The party itself got roaring only an hour later, and everyone was up for a good time. Kristen met Thomas, and she said that he was "pretty".

Jon and I were kind of confused about this, and we asked Kristen to explain the terminology of "pretty". She opined that he wasn't handsome or cute, he was "pretty" - which was to say his features were more boyish and not-rugged. I chimed in, "Ok, so what does that make me?” she quickly replied, "Oh, you’re handsome." Ego stroking is always nice from your female friends. :)

The party continued, and I have to say that everyone was super friendly and chatty with each other at the party. I have been to many parties where everyone kind of stays in their own social circles and not much mingling takes place. Not here...everyone was talking to everyone, strangers would engage in conversation and it was one of the more fun parties I attended in quite sometime.

The only black mark against the party was that Lisa had also invited a guy she had been dating, and recently broke up with, named "Fred". Fred isn't his real name, and since I really don't know the chap I won't go into details about him. I really didn't mind it at the time, but as the party continued, things got a bit dicey.

(This was written 2 months ago...I found it under my entries and never published it...enjoy...)

Here is my first thought about a TV episode, similar to the "OC", but takes place in Hoboken, maybe 5 years later with an older, if not wiser, cast.

Three roommates are living together, Ryan, Seth and Marissa in a duplex.

Seth is upstairs, on his computer, in his room. Its 11:30pm, and he hears downstairs the sounds of people talking and music playing. Its a Wednesday night, and he has work the next day.

He waits a bit, still doing a few things before going to sleep, and fairly soon its 12:30. He begins to brush his teeth, and he can hear the music from "The Doors" coming from downstairs.

He goes downstairs and sees two strangers in his living room, listening to the music and talking to each other - obviously drunk or stoned. One of them looks like the 21 year old bastard child of Bob Marley and Zack De La Rocha. The other looks like, well, some indian kid. Both look at Seth with a look of confusion.

Seth, standing at the base of the stairs with a toothbrush in his mouth, doesn't say a word, just makes a motion to the TV and the international signal of "turn the god damn music down" of the cupped, rotating hand. He doesn't really worry that Marissa is not there, but assumes that these are her friends.

"Did we wake you? Oh, were, sorry."

Seth mutters "No problem" and goes back up stairs.

15 minutes pass. Suddenly music is blasting...

You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't get much higher
Come on baby, light my fire
Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire

Seth was lying in bed, trying to sleep in his boxers. He jumps up, and puts on his shirt, jeans and shoes. Its well known that noise and Seth do not get along very well.

The HC would have to be on HBO for this next part...