So, I have this friend named Bill. He's my personal Cliff Yablonski. I'm sure you all know someone like Bill. He's the crochety older guy who I go to for a shot of whiskey when I'm having woman problems. He's the one who gives me friendly advice like "People aren't worth the shit they're carved from!!!" and "Women are all bitches!!!! You gotta spank 'em and show 'em who's boss!!!" and, immortally, "Damn!!! Look at those hooters!!!" Have I mentioned that Bill is a dirty old man?

Anyway, Bill just had an operation on his foot, and he's laid up for a few weeks, trapped on his apartment, which is, incidentally, a few blocks from mine. Me and spinne decided he was getting kinda musty getting laid up like that, so we decided to air him out some, plopped him in the wheelchair, and took him for a push around the East Village.

We took Bill for dinner at Crif Dogs on St. Mark's (bitchin' place, great cheap food), and then, being a sadist, I wheeled him around the 'hood for a bit. (Read: we played chicken with taxi cabs while Bill screamed.) If you haven't been in the East Village recently, let me make one thing absolutely clear: This place is filled with hot women. Really hot women. Latina chicks. Asian chicks. Goth chicks. Hipster chicks in Weezer glasses. Eurotrash chicks. Bra-less hippie girls. Strippers fresh off the boat from Eastern Europe. And I, of course, aimed the wheelchair directly at all of them.

"Oh, excuse me," they would say, since it never enters anyone's mind that someone would purposely run over her foot with a wheelchair. "Are you all right?"

"MmmnnnyaahHHARRRR," Bill would drool.

"What did he say?" they would ask.

"He's my uncle Bill," I would say. "He's terminally ill—he's only only got a few weeks left."

"That's horrible!" they would say, all sympathy.

"NNnnnnnnGGHGHHH," Bill agreed.

"Well," I would say. "He hasn't been with a woman in years, and he was wondering. . ."

"What?"

"Well, he was wondering if he could touch your breasts. . ."

This works about 60% of the time. It also works well if the person in the wheelchair isn't actually disabled. In fact, all you need is a wheelchair and an ability to lie to someone's face.

If you're taking turns with a friend, be sure that your previous victims don't see the former "terminally ill patient" pushing you around.

That's all for now. I'm afraid that's the only interesting to happen this week.

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