KTB

Photoessays are totally the new Fabian Basabe. So much easier than lengthy wordy paragraphs. Much easier on the brain too.

Last nite started as an innocent evening of poker, vodka, beer and Caipirinhas. Drink, play some cards and take it from there. Sounds simple. It was far from a simple evening though. Look at the pix. Stories to follow.

MMmmmmmmmmmmmmm Caipirinha

I could be wrong but I believe this to be Goon's first time on KTB. Welcome.

No words for this.

A vision of beauty.

Goon multi-tasks between Bud, phone sex and a winning poker hand.

Artsy fartsy photo thru looking glass.

Amazing that despite no drugs being around, this is the beast's behavior. He later showed us his salami.

Let me see if I can properly describe what had just preceded this shot. The Beast in the picture (most of you know It's name) tried to kick me because I had showed him, for the first time, pix of him with a "mysterious" hot sauce on his arm taken while he slept over my pad a week earlier. The "mysterious" hot sauce that burned and violated the Beast for many days and no one really knew how it had gotten on him to begin with.

Well, the surprise was all the Beast's. He saw picture proof of the hot sauce on his arm while he lay quietly, peacefully sleeping. The Beast was not happy. The Beast wanted to punish the offender (me) of his tranquility. The Beast went to kick me (imagine Ralph Machio) but after downing multiple Caipirinhas, shots of Kettel One and Buds, the Beast's motor skills were far from fine tuned. The kick was extended. I was able to grab hold of his foot (I'm no shaolin master mind you). And next thing you know, the Beast wobbled and keeled over backwards. A normal human may have fallen down gracefully. Not our Beast. He ricketed and racketed and on his way down, he stapled his back against the hard-steel-edge of the Viking Oven Range in the kitchen. The edge stabbed him in the back and the Beast screamed.

"Scream" may be the wrong word for the sound that escaped the Beast's larynx. Imagine, if you will, a Civil War battlefield, covered in corpses and soaked in blood. Imagine further and you'll see a bleeding confederate soldier with half his guts exposed and the other half several feet from his now useless torso. Imagine the sounds this soldier made when he was maimed and wounded in the heat of battle. That was the sound that the Beast made. That was the sound that is now forever etched in my brain and nightmares. It was horrific. It was despicable. It was barbaric.

The Beast bounced off the edge of the oven and lay, writhing in agony on the kitchen floor. My buddy Mojo wanted to dial 911 but because of outstanding warrants, that would not have been a wise move for the Beast. We tried to apply an ice-pack to the Beast's back but there were none to be found in the house. Luckily, it being a Russian household and all, there was plenty of frozen Kettel One. A bottle of Kettel One was quickly pressed against the screaming Beast's back while a shot glass was immediately filled and downed by the Beast and his now caring nurses.

It was an amazing scene indeed. After about 10 minutes of this agony and a few shots, the Beast's spirits lifted. Couple that with the fact that I was finally going to snap a pic of the beatup Beast and you have yourself the picture immediately above. The Beast snapped to attention like a whirling dervish and our night continued unabated.

Unfortunately, there was real bad news ahead for us. We went to Bowlmor Lanes on University for some bowling and food. And I lost my camera. Again. Not my DSLR but my Canon S70 point and shoot camera. That sux. Another one bites the dust. And there was so much funny shit at Bowlmor too.

The Beast was grabbed by a female bowler and was actually sexually assaulted. There was a pic of this but without the camera, we shall never see it. There was also a pic of the Beast after someone (me?) "ACCIDENTALLY" dropped a bowling ball on his foot. The Beast went down and was very angry at this "accident". There was alot more funny shit but without photographic evidence, all memories escape me. Fuck fuck fuck. Can't believe I lost another camera.

Brain cells are weak. Words are no good. The best we can come up with was these paltry images plus a few brief words. Pain.

After arriving one hour late, Tabby + co. are finally seated. No one else seated near us. This is good.

An evil junior associate + female accoutrements.

The Bday Bird spreads his wing

Let the vodka flow

The Bird (our creature) is accosted by a real chicken bird. Bird recognizes a long lost brother.

They chirp and hoot bird-talk

People are scared of all the feathered beasts in the vicinity

This creature drinks and drinks. The "Grabber" will soon awaken.

Who knew so many would show for a freak-of-nature's bday

The Grabber is upon us

She wishes she brought mace right about now

This could only spell TROUBLE

Chippendales' in No. 1 Chinese??? Who knew?

He would get paid to disappear. Brilliant strategy in retrorespect.

Smiling on the outside but really woefully crying on the inside.

Where is my vodka wonders the Grabber

Found it. Sniffed it out.

This is a classic shot. The Grabber had just assaulted Birdette (the Bird's hen). Bird was NOT happy. Bird is VERY strong. Bird grabbed the Grabber's love handle and SQUEEZED the pudgey fat for an erstwhile moment. I sense something ironic in the Grabber being grabbed....

The Grabber looked like he was in pain. Twas nothing a few shots couldn't cure.

Fuck the bird exclaimed the Gangsta Grabba.

Our reality tv celebrified friend was not happy that the Grabber's paws were on him and his girl.

All's good and well between the Bird and the Grabber

The dirt collection begins. Little Bolivian marching soldiers would soon show their face.

The rest is history. For whatever reason, we forgot how to use the camera past this point in the evening.

Last nite, KTB and a B&T constituency, primarily Rockland lifers, hit the bar scene of Ave. B for a memorable evening. It was The Bird's birthday. The namesake of this site, The actual Bird itself friends. It was the feathered beasts anniversary of coming into this world and escaping his mother hen's shell. It was a little over three decades ago that the freak of nature was hatched.

So last nite, in honor of the mongrel known as Bird, we hit the bars and the bars hit back. First stop of the night was the downstairs lounge of No. 1 Chinese. Bad things happened there. Too many to mention here and not enough time as of this writing.

What I do recall is that Tabby was punched in the face once. Bird was subsequently punched in the face twice as retribution. Then there was a kiss heard round the world. And that was followed by a vicious Tabby-esque striptease. Lord help us all.

There'll be more pix coming soon.

You knew this would happen sooner or later:

Apple (NASD:AAPL) Computer announces 2-for-1 split

Thank Chad for this link.

Did anyone catch last nite's disappointing episode of Project Runway? If you did, you're probably as shocked as me that Wendy "Eat a Dick" Pepper has gone on and made it to the final 3. Drama queen Austin was sadly voted off in what was certainly a ratings booster and not a true competition. At least, that's my 2 cents.

It was good to see Rob make a surprise comeback on last nite's show too. In case you missed it, the producers brought Rob back as "technical advisor" to the final 4 contestants. What did Rob do in his new role as advisor? He drank a few dozen beers. If that's not representing KTB to the fullest, I don't know what is. Well done Robio. Well done.

The remaining 3 contestants are Kara Saun, Jay and "Eat a Dick". On Friday of last week, the Project Runway fashion show took place in Bryant Park. The producers wasted none of their energy in disguising the aspirants' designs. Instead of showcasing three designers, the producers showed 4 fashion lines without identifying which line belonged to which designer. I guess this was done to prevent the public from finding out who the eventual winner is. I find it hard to believe though that people in the 500+ seats at the show could not correctly ID "Eat a Dick's" Kmart-esque collection. How could you miss that?

If you feel I'm being too harsh on "Eat a Dick," well, you can go eat your own dick. Good luck to Kara Saun and Jay in the voting for winner of Project Runway. I'm not sure when they'll announce the winner because it looks like next week's episode is a reunion special.

By the way, there's some funny candid shots of the Project Runway cast from the episode 1 debut party here.

If you enjoy flickr as much as I do, then this flickr graph will totally enhance your flickr experience. Put in your username and watch the graph trace all your flickr friends. Pretty cool yet ultra-nerdy at the same time. I love it.

In other news, shit like this really makes me want to be 13 and back in school again. WTF. How come I never had a teacher who looked like her who wanted to tutor me some? Fuck!

Straight from the Union Square grapevine and onto the fine pages of KTB, we bring you this not-so-delicious item.

Earlier today, petite restaruanteur and Carmen Kass's ex-arm-candy, Richie Akiva was spotted gaining admission into the now defunct Plaid Nightclub (aka Spa aka Key Club aka System aka lousy B&T shithole) on east 13th Street and 4th Ave. The dimunitive Akiva was well dressed and still 3'8" our spy reports. The Akiva was also sporting very chic sunglasses.

What does this mean? Well, judging by the success of The Akiva's other venture, Peanut Butter, we're figuring that The Akiva is seeking to parlay his nightlife fortune with yet another investment. Judging from the people we've seen entering and exiting the now deceased Spa, we're betting that The Akiva, or whoever takes over this club, will probably have to burn the place down first. There's only so much Fantastik and elbow grease can do....

For more on The Akiva, check out this Observer piece on him.

A KTB constituency, long on delinquency and short of IQ, braved the grey-tops, white caps and long mullets of Sarasota, FL to take part in the Sarasota Film Festival two weekends yore.

The crew, minus your's truly here (bastards!), encountered various creatures not scene in the likes of New York. Yes, even not on the Bowery or Billyburg. Filthy, vile, micro-phallused creatures (you know who you are Pigger!) scared our mates but as they say in Vegas, the show must go on! Or someshit like that.

Yes, that really is Nick Nolte Gary Busey. Crackhead Busey. From that failed Comedy Central show whose name even we can't recall. The first report on Busey - chronic, massive halitosis. Breath bad enough to rouse even an unconscious, tweaked out Tabby from the deepest of K-Holes. The Busey was drunk. The Busey was wasted. The Busey nose hangs like a limp, little Piggy penis (yes, another reference to PIGGER!) Overall, this Busey sounds like a vile beast we'd gladly spill drinks with over at the Peculiar Pub.

We're glad to know our buddies got drunk, got in trouble and made the best of the festival. How'd they do that? For starters, the movie we've been hyping for the life of this website (Blackballed The Bobby Dukes Story) got another prestigious accolade - Best of Fest. Big Ups to Bobby D and the whole crew.

There are more piggish tales and more stories of arrests and whathaveyou but time is short kids. Work beckons. More later.

The ephemeral and see through head of Don Giovani.

A weird thing happened to my friend Don G, who slept over here last nite. He woke up with a red rash on his bicep, forearm and forehead. He insists that "somebody" poured hot sauce on his body while he slept. Unless there's some proof of this indefensible action, I see no reason to speculate otherwise. Don G's got the coodies. Plain and simple!

Twas a very emotional and depressing evening in the KTB household last nite. Our boy, Robio (aka The Player), who made it to the round of 5, was voted off the reality show Project Runway. "Auf viderzayne" Heidi blandly blurbed after the judges made their decision.

God, these fashion people can be so unforgiving. Nina Garcia, an editrix at Vogue, was particularly not fond of Rob's design in last night's competition. Not that Rob gave her any reason to like it. The designers' goal was to complete a new look for the US Postal worker. Form and function collided in this epic design challenge. In creating this new look for the mailman, the designers had to create an outfit that was actually wearable and comfortable. Rob's design of a form-fitting, stretch shirt, especially with the model's nipples revealed was probably obviously not what the judges were looking for. But then again, the evil Wendy Pepper's outfit was about as desirable as shit on a kebab. It must have been a battle for that last spot and unfortunately, Robio lost out.

KTB wishes great luck to Kara Saun, Jay, even Austin but definitely not Wendy Pepper. In last nite's episode, somebody "purportedly" drew a mustache on a photo of Wendy's daughter. How devastating that must be for the poor demon. It's not healthy to wish ill upon people. But she's no human. She's a wolf, a mutt, a vile and slimey eel. KTB will feel no remorse when the Wendy Pepper devil finds itself on the short end of the judges' stick. Hopefully, that will come next week.

[Image of PepperDevil via dg. Thanks]

In pre-market trading, shares of Google (NASD:GOOG) are up twenty-fucking-five points!!! Believe it. To all the shorts out there (particularly the one short kidd from Rio) - I'm sorry. Fuck that has to hurt. Ouch.

Is this the future of lefty liberal press? Something tells me it is.

Presidential candidate and uptown activitist, Al Sharpton, has joined in with an animal rights group in calling for a boycott of KFC. LOL. I sense just a hint of irony in that item.

Here's the good news: while fussing around and paying the bills, I found my camera. Yaaaaaaaaay. I thought I had lost it while out and about this past Saturday night. Nay I did not. The camera must have made it home of it's own volition since I have no recollection whatsoever of coming home.

Here's the Ugly and The Uglier: the pix I discovered on the camera. Some are from Duvet. Some are from a bar whose name I may never recall located down in the depths of Tribeca. It's the kind of bar with no discernable awning or neon-sign. Think Harmony Theatre pre-Giuliani. The kind of place a Hasid could find succor while donning naught but a Yankees cap for disguise. Dark, dingy and plenty of brown liquour to go around.

The pix bring back vague memories. Perhaps it'd have been best if I never found the camera after all.

Duvet

Duvet

See the rest of the pix after the bump.

Don't ask don't tell

More of the ugly

Yet more ugliness.

Today's Page Six blind item mentions our favorite TV show du jour - Project Runway.

WE HEAR . . .THAT the final three contestants on Project Runway are holed up in the Extreme Wow suite at the W Times Square.

First it was a missing sock and we were fine with that. Somebody had lost their little socky and hung flyers all over the USQ and EV areas in search of said socky.

But now, we are asked to express our heartfelt admiration for "Gary". Not Gary Bababooey. But some random Gary who the message says is feeling down. The man on the message says his friend Gary has not been feeling well lately and he'd like for callers to tell Gary how much they love him. We're sorry if we're going to be a little harsh here but we have two words for the man on the message - eff Gary. Life is tough. My liver feels like it's been soaked in tabasco. But you don't hear us complaining. I got some advice for this Gary character - toughen up; grow a pair will ya.

If you feel inclined to leave this Gary a message, the number on the flyer is 212-560-2306. If you don't know what to say, tell Gary that KTB says stop being such a little wus.

The above photo was taken on Broadway between 14th and 13th streets.