For those of you who stumbled upon this webpage by mistake, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mike Greenhaus. I’m 24 and originally hail from Armonk, NY, a small, gentrified slice of suburbia nestled in the northwest corner of Westchester County (The W.C. for those of us in the know). After picking up my English degree in Saratoga Springs at Skidmore College (the exact point where hippies and hicks meet), I migrated south and currently reside on the eastern edge of New York’s west village. In general, I really like my life and have managed to avoid many of the trappings which traditionally swallow post-Adolescent America. I like to believe I know myself pretty well---maybe too well---and since “finding myself” at a UVM summer program in the summer of ’97 I’ve firmly stood by the motto “don’t get to deep or you might lose touch with the surface.” But, as this blog surely proves, I rarely follow its message.
I’m good at many things: planning social gatherings with military precision, remembering usless jamband trivia with professional ease and bouncing to music like the bastard child of Tigger and the Counting Crowes’ Adam Durtiz. But, the one thing Mikey Greenhaus has never been great at is getting girls---and by “getting” I usually mean working up the courage to get a definitive yes/no statement out of my intended partner.
In the process of falling victim to my neurotic Jewish trappings, I’ve stumbled into some pretty psychotic situations whose cinematic equivalents sadly parallel the 40 Year Old Virgin more often than Rochelle Rochelle. But, hay, if you can't make fun of yourself, someone else will
As a tribute to the emotional hurricanes which have wreaked havoc on my parent’s phone bill, I’ve set up a blog-style look at some of my favorite life learning disasters. I'm kind of viewing it as a textual warm-up before work---kind of like stretching before a big game---and using my new domain as an opportunity to document some of the random ideas which cross my necrotic Jewish mind on a daily basis. Since my best punch lines have been in e-mail syndication for some time I’m sure most of you know what to expect. But, if you’re clamoring for a Page 6 account of my days bouncing around the Bowery, chasing the daughters of jam-nation and chugging chocolate milk, then you’ve come to the right place. Plus, figuring out how to upload a webpage is allot more fun than mopping my floor and, hopefully, just as productive.
So enjoy and feel free to point out my typos at firstname.lastname@example.org