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My life may not be exciting. In fact, for the most part, it isn’t. Hence, weeks of no blog posts. I mean, I did close a rather exciting deal last week. First and second lien secured credit facility worth $2.05 billion. The second lien facility was particularly interesting, as it contained a PIK-toggle feature that allows the borrower to elect to pay interest in kind during various interest periods.

What, that’s not interesting to you? You don’t want me to explain more about PIK-toggle? It’s a developing trend in leveraged financings.

Ok, fine. I’ll instead have to live vicariously through the lives of my friends, who have more flair than I. Take Aurelia, for instance. She’s moved back to LA, where the celebrities aren’t as well behaved as those here in the city. Here’s her story, which arrived in my inbox with the title “Matthew Perry is an [body part, comparisons to which are generally considered unflattering]!”

So I went to the movies tonight (to see that movie The Invisible). I was there with my friend, Brandy, and there were only 2 other people in the theater. The lights darkened, and 2 figures came in and of course decided that of all the empty seats, in all the theater, they would sit in the row directly in front of me. The profile of one of the guys, who was the only one I really got a look at, looked really familiar to me. I kept thinking it was Kevin Pollack (though I didn’t remember his name then, only recognized his face). Anyway, clearly in an attempt to convince the rest of us that he and his friend were not gay, they had to do the customary “sit with one empty seat between them” move. (Seriously. Why do guys do that?? Idiots.). The two of them then proceeded to speak loudly throughout the beginning of the film, making jokes about the film and laughing out loud (at nowhere appropriate moments), which of course is exacerbated by the fact that the movie’s music was loud (albeit good) and they had to shout more loudly in order to be heard across the vastness of the empty seat between them. Anyway, apparently failing to realize that the rest of us were not interested in their running commentary, the next time I heard one of them speak sopra voce (it was He Would Later Be Recognized As Matthew Perry), I promptly cut him off and yelled at him to “Shut. Up.”, in a deeper, rather pronounced growl. Hilarious. One, because Matthew promptly shut his trap. And two, as what later became evident, I had told Matthew “Friends loser and diet pill addict” Perry to shut his trap.

When the movie ended, I got a chance to see Kevin’s comrade, and that’s when I realized he looked strikingly like Matthew Perry, same spikey-hair from 10 years ago. I guess Brandy had only seen him when he entered so had wondered as well if that were him. Our mutual recognition made us believe we were correct, but just to be sure, we asked the ticket taker outside our theater. She validated our sighting and also let us know that Matthew was a big butt when he gave her his movie tickets as well.

So, my only regret: That they both shut up so I didn’t get to use a further zinger. For example:
“Yeah, Matt, we get that you think this movie is ridiculous. Sorry it couldn’t be more like the American classics “Fools Rush In” and “The Whole Nine Yards”.”
But, alas, it was not to be. Sigh. Another day perhaps….

Later learned trivia: I thought the pairing of Matt and Kevin was bizarre, but upon searching IMDB, it looks like they costarred together in The Whole 10 Yards, the much anticipated sequel to that earlier cited masterpiece, The Whole Nine Yards.

Our daily bulletin here at work, distributed via our intranet, is a frequent source of amusement for me. Today was no exception, as the following article was posted:

Safety is Always in Season

It’s that time of year again. With the arrival of nicer weather, people’s thoughts naturally turn to spending more time out of the house and becoming active again. Public areas attract increased foot traffic and frenzied buildings become commonplace scenarios. With the bustle going on around us, it’s easy to overlook building transportation safety.

Riding in an elevator has become so commonplace that few of us give much thought to our safety when stepping through those automatic doors. Nevertheless, it is crucial to take preventive measures and be proactive about elevator safety. Familiarizing oneself with common safety practices and taking extra caution is especially important in well-populated buildings such as offices, libraries, malls and amusement parks.

The article continued with brilliant safety tips like “Always stand clear of the elevator doors, keeping belongings away from the opening. Stand aside for exiting passengers and hold children by the hand” and “Watch your step — the elevator car may not be perfectly level with the floor.”

I may be the only person who thinks this is funny, but a 300-word article devoted to elevator safety just seems liked a stretch for a real topic.

I realize that this post is only going to amuse a fairly limited portion of my readership. And even those who understand the joke may not be particularly amused by it. But it’s my blog, and I’ll cry if I want to, so to speak.

Anyway, I was drafting a document that discussed various property being using as a collateral for a loan. One of the schedules listed all the relevant property, and required that I indicate whether it is “owned” or “leased” property.

Maybe it was too early in the morning for my brain to function properly, or something, so every time I tried to type “owned property” it came out as “own3d property.”

As much fun as it would be to draft my documents in 1337, I think I would be the one getting pwn3d if I left my typo in there.

As many of our friends know, Jannine and I are affectionately known in shorthand as Jannate. It’s more efficient than pronouncing all the many syllables in our names, plus that pesky “and”. (The ending of this sentence introduces one of the formal usage rules that I constantly fight with in my head. Technically, I believe, the period should be inside the closing quotation mark. However, that makes no sense to me, as the quotation marks are only related to the and. It seems like a non-traditional use of the quotation mark, which should allow the period to be placed in a non-traditional location. Which I did. Sue me, grammar police!)

Anyway, the “couple names” started with our friends Jeremy and Erica, aka Jerica, and spread to us, Zane and Angela (Zangela) and Stefan and Aneta (Stefeta or Stefaneta — there is debate about the proper contraction).

I was thinking about all this today, and that made me think about how Kat and Suz started using J9 as a nickname for Jannine. I then realized that my name could be shortened to N8. Which would make us N8 & J9. How cool is that??

Do not write a comment telling me that it’s not cool. I have decided that it is cool, and that’s all there is to it.

It seems like time to post another photo, as I haven’t posted anything for a few weeks, or so it seems.

Today, we have one from the archives: I took it last summer when Jannine and I were in Michigan visiting my parents. We went to the Horticulture Garden at Michigan State University (my alma mater). While there, I took a bunch of pictures.

This is one of my favorites.

Well, it’s official (or as official as it can be right now): Jannine and I are going to Paris for our honeymoon. I booked our tickets this afternoon through Northwest, expending most of my banked frequent-flyer miles (thank you, Accenture!) for one ticket and paying for the other ticket.

Thanks to the rules of the Northwest frequent flyer program (otherwise known as: we don’t really want you to use your miles), I had to spend double miles on one leg of the flight. This nixed the possibility of getting both tickets with miles. And, given that we’re on Northwest, the itinery is not as clean as it could be. Given that we paid one third of what we would have to fly direct LAX-CDG-JFK on Air France, that’s a tradeoff we’re happy to make.

Now, we just have to pick a hotel. We’ve narrowed it down to a few decent (and not too expensive choices). Hopefully, we can nail that down this weekend and have those two big pieces out of the way. We can work out the details later, but at least now we know we’re actually going to be there.

New York Magazine had an interesting article on the concept of “skyfarming” — building skyscrapers that would house vast amounts of agriculture. This idea has been explored, in a theoretical sense, by a professor at Columbia.

Of course, as with most big ideas, this one is supposed to solve most of the world’s ills, including global warming, the need for sustainable energy, the ability to feed a rapidly-growing population, clean water, fresh food, global terrorism and Tom Cruise’s love of Scientology. Ok, I made the last two up. But you get the idea.

In theory, it all sounds wonderful. The science behind the ideas is not entirely theoretical. However, unless billions of dollars suddenly appear out of nowhere (attention Bill Gates, Warren Buffet and George Soros), it will be difficult for these ideas to grow beyond the concept stage.

Courtesy of Suz’s Google Talk message, a nice link from Overhead in New York’s archive.

It sums up the conflict of two enduring problems: New Yorkers can be so rude, but sometimes, it’s entirely provoked. Tourists should not stop in the middle of sidewalks any more than they would appreciate people suddenly stopping in the middle of busy streets in their communities. Sidewalks are our streets.

But it does sound like those suits had a slight anger-management problem.

Chuck Klosterman, known more as a music and culture critic than a sportswriter, is a semi-regular contributor to ESPN.com’s Page 2. His sportswriting is generally brilliant, and when it isn’t brilliant, it’s at least pretty funny.

He blogged his trip to the 2006 Super Bowl (XL, for those of you who like counting in Roman numerals) for ESPN, with hilarious results. Now, ESPN has sent him on a mission to Atlanta to cover this year’s Final Four action.

Two installments are already in the books, and they’re a good read. I’d assume they’ll get better as the weekend goes on and they actually start playing the games. Read along with me.

This morning, I dragged myself out of bed after another psuedo all-nighter. (It’s not a real all-nighter, because although I worked till 7 a.m., I then slept for four hours. I figure a real all nighter is when you don’t go to bed and just keep working.)

After showering, I made a sobering discovery: I was all out of hair product. As you can probably imagine, this was a major issue for me. I wouldn’t want to go to work without may hair all fun and spike, not to mention that as my hair is currently cut, it looks pretty bad if I wear it down. Besides, I think the spikey hair frames my face better. It’s like the rug in the Big Liebowski — it ties my whole face together.

I searched high and low, through the medicine cabinet, the vanity and the bathroom cupboard, and found that there was nary a hair product in the house which would fortify my hair for the long day ahead. There was only one solution: stop at the Sunrise Mart and buy new hair wax. This is one of the many advantages of living in the East Village: Japanese markets are conveniently on the way to the subway.

After a quick trip to Sunrise, I had my precious Gatsby “hard keep type” hair wax. Here’s where things got hairy. (I would say “no pun intended,” but I don’t think anyone would believe me.) I got on the train and perhaps was somewhat overeager, because I couldn’t wait another minute to start styling my hair.

I opened the wax and started to rub some into my hair. I was in the corner of the car, and it was fairly empty (as it was almost noon), so I thought I was being subtle. I mean, who doesn’t style their hair on the subway? Women do their eye shadow and lipstick, so why can’t I do a little wax?

The process just wasn’t feeling right, so I turned to look in the window to see my reflection. At that moment, I saw two girls in the next car, laughing heartily and pointing. I’m not sure if the laughter was derisive or friendly, because I pretended not to notice (one must keep up the charade that their behavior is normal at all times). Regardless, I clearly provided them with some amusement for their day.

But here’s the upshot: my hair looks terrible. It’s a complete mess. Between having it dry “down” and styling it on the subway with no mirror, it looks more like an eccentric professor or a homeless person who got up on the wrong side of the bed than anything. So the moral of the story is: don’t do your hair on the subway.