and no one's gonna convince me otherwise.
http://albinoblacksheep.com/flash/lego
more on screenhead
31 August 2005
but i do still love them
because they have things like this
Dad: See there? When people tell you to go jump off the Brooklyn Bridge, that's where you have to go.
that is where you have to go. have to.
although some friends and i were discussing that you're far better off jumping off the manhattan bridge, b/c you won't just fall into traffic. it's way more dramatic to plunge into the east river.
Dad: See there? When people tell you to go jump off the Brooklyn Bridge, that's where you have to go.
that is where you have to go. have to.
although some friends and i were discussing that you're far better off jumping off the manhattan bridge, b/c you won't just fall into traffic. it's way more dramatic to plunge into the east river.
ok, that's it. no more government for Lousiana
until someone can figure out how to get them to stop hyperbolizing.
"I can only imagine that this is what Hiroshima looked like 60 years ago," said the state's governor, Haley Barbour, after viewing the destruction from the air.
goddamnit, a hurricane and an ATOMIC FUCKING BOMB are not the same!!! no one evacuated the people of Hiroshima before we dropped the bomb, and people are not going to get radiation poisoning from flooding. just malaria. surely this is a tragic and horrible event, getting worse by the second, but it's pretty fucking obnoxious to compare it to things that killed tens of thousands of people without warning, many of whom had no money to begin with and were living subsistance lifestyles. doubtless the cost of this hurricane will come close to if not surpass the damage done by the tsunami, because the people who got fucked by the tsunami didn't have squat to begin with.
"I can only imagine that this is what Hiroshima looked like 60 years ago," said the state's governor, Haley Barbour, after viewing the destruction from the air.
goddamnit, a hurricane and an ATOMIC FUCKING BOMB are not the same!!! no one evacuated the people of Hiroshima before we dropped the bomb, and people are not going to get radiation poisoning from flooding. just malaria. surely this is a tragic and horrible event, getting worse by the second, but it's pretty fucking obnoxious to compare it to things that killed tens of thousands of people without warning, many of whom had no money to begin with and were living subsistance lifestyles. doubtless the cost of this hurricane will come close to if not surpass the damage done by the tsunami, because the people who got fucked by the tsunami didn't have squat to begin with.
rock you like a hurricane
This is a picture of my friend's uncle's store in Hattisburg, MS. clearly they will be closed for a little while.
i was just talking to another friend, perhaps even the same one responsible for the hangover i'm dealing with, whose uncle lives in Mobile, and she was saying how humid it is and how the flood waters are everywhere, and that got me and my morbid, fatalistic mind thinking, what happens if there's a malaria outbreak?
i was just talking to another friend, perhaps even the same one responsible for the hangover i'm dealing with, whose uncle lives in Mobile, and she was saying how humid it is and how the flood waters are everywhere, and that got me and my morbid, fatalistic mind thinking, what happens if there's a malaria outbreak?
some people might actually plan a trip like this
it seems that because the situation inside the dank and sweltering Superdome was becoming desperate: The water was rising, the air conditioning was out, toilets were broken, and tempers were rising.
(not impressed with the repetition of rising there.) the Governor of LA wants everyone evactuated. so they're taking them to the birthplace of the most revolting and despicable substance on earth (which NYC Parks seems to think is a reasonable alternative for real grass on its soccer pitches and baseball fields and it is NOT), the astrodome. apparently no one has done anything in the astrodome in "years", so it's probably pretty dusty in there. and i'll bet the beer is all flat. hopefully the Air Con works there, though...ugh stuck in the superdome with humidity and thousands of people and backed up toilets. not too pleasant.
anyway, they're bussing the refugeese over in shifts, so get ready for the tailgate party.
(not impressed with the repetition of rising there.) the Governor of LA wants everyone evactuated. so they're taking them to the birthplace of the most revolting and despicable substance on earth (which NYC Parks seems to think is a reasonable alternative for real grass on its soccer pitches and baseball fields and it is NOT), the astrodome. apparently no one has done anything in the astrodome in "years", so it's probably pretty dusty in there. and i'll bet the beer is all flat. hopefully the Air Con works there, though...ugh stuck in the superdome with humidity and thousands of people and backed up toilets. not too pleasant.
anyway, they're bussing the refugeese over in shifts, so get ready for the tailgate party.
it's always about oil
so the government released some oil because of the hurricane. good work, government. everyone: back to your suvs.
and, in case you didn't think we had a president to be proud of:
The announcement came as President Bush returned to Washington today, two days ahead of schedule, to manage the Federal response to the storm, amid expectations that he would try to visit the devastated regions in the next few days.
TWO DAYS AHEAD OF SCHEDULE. Citizens of the United States, the president has bravely sacrificed 48 hours of his extremely limited vacation time to get back to washington and start squeegeeing off the Gulf Coast. what a guy. (would it have been so hard for him to head back, say, the day it hit? too much to ask? yeah, you're right.)
and, in case you didn't think we had a president to be proud of:
The announcement came as President Bush returned to Washington today, two days ahead of schedule, to manage the Federal response to the storm, amid expectations that he would try to visit the devastated regions in the next few days.
TWO DAYS AHEAD OF SCHEDULE. Citizens of the United States, the president has bravely sacrificed 48 hours of his extremely limited vacation time to get back to washington and start squeegeeing off the Gulf Coast. what a guy. (would it have been so hard for him to head back, say, the day it hit? too much to ask? yeah, you're right.)
still wasted (she's wasted), wasted from the party last night.
where did those shots come from? and why did i ingest them? i tried a polite "no, thank you", but was threatened, third grade style, with the revocation of a friendship if i did not take the lethal doses of sambuca, tequila and SoCo that were proffered. but there wasn't much i could do, it was my friend's birthday, and my friend is british. and she and all of her crazy british friends are responsible for many of my more debaucherous nights. i grabbed the first shot, inhaled and said to myself: "bite down and hold on, you're gonna be drunk at work tomorrow".
so guess who's drunk at work! woo hoo. being wasted in the office is so very confusing. it's not fun, like being drunk at the bar or at your house or at the dentist (which i'm going to experience shortly if things don't start to look up quick). people are asking me real questions which require real answers and the only thing i can do is think "why is my brain wobbling around like that?" or "do i reek of cigarettes and booze?" or "please, god, do not let me throw up on this person". then occasionally i think about the fact that i am going out tonight and begin weeping, silently.
so i was running into the subway this morning and the train was already in the station, and i thought i'd never make it, but it stayed in the station - like some sort of hangover miracle - and i thought, "wow, this is an auspicious start to the day". i swiped my card, ready to leap triumphantly over the platform and straight into the train as the doors dramatically closed behind me, but then something happened: insufficient fare. my bloody metrocard had gone and died on me. i bade farewell to the train and turned around to cash in my transitchecks... finally i caught a train and -- what the? who didn't staple the metros today? huh!! do you think my failing motor skills can handle an unstapled free shitty newspaper today? do you? they CANNOT i say. NO! i think my valve is acting up! i ended up laughing at my own inability to fold a piece of paper combined with my special hidden talent of getting newsink all over my hands and face. i figured i'd quit whilst i was ahead and skip the crossword altogether.
i alighted at rockerfeller center because my stomach couldn't handle the train anymore and wandered slowly through east midtown (at this point i was already significantly late, so why rush now), swapping text messages with the birthday girl-cum-co-worker which involved multiple uses of the words "evil", "shots", "horrible", "wankered" and "sandwich".
and now it is 1130. i already accidentally deleted my first go at this post, which was infinitely more witty but horribly spelt and punctuated, and still haven't managed to finish eating my breakfast. but i have made plans to spend all day sunday drinking, so that's taken care of.
i just remembered describing how to make a hologram in the following way: "it's like you have two films and then a laser and then it makes a hologram".
so guess who's drunk at work! woo hoo. being wasted in the office is so very confusing. it's not fun, like being drunk at the bar or at your house or at the dentist (which i'm going to experience shortly if things don't start to look up quick). people are asking me real questions which require real answers and the only thing i can do is think "why is my brain wobbling around like that?" or "do i reek of cigarettes and booze?" or "please, god, do not let me throw up on this person". then occasionally i think about the fact that i am going out tonight and begin weeping, silently.
so i was running into the subway this morning and the train was already in the station, and i thought i'd never make it, but it stayed in the station - like some sort of hangover miracle - and i thought, "wow, this is an auspicious start to the day". i swiped my card, ready to leap triumphantly over the platform and straight into the train as the doors dramatically closed behind me, but then something happened: insufficient fare. my bloody metrocard had gone and died on me. i bade farewell to the train and turned around to cash in my transitchecks... finally i caught a train and -- what the? who didn't staple the metros today? huh!! do you think my failing motor skills can handle an unstapled free shitty newspaper today? do you? they CANNOT i say. NO! i think my valve is acting up! i ended up laughing at my own inability to fold a piece of paper combined with my special hidden talent of getting newsink all over my hands and face. i figured i'd quit whilst i was ahead and skip the crossword altogether.
i alighted at rockerfeller center because my stomach couldn't handle the train anymore and wandered slowly through east midtown (at this point i was already significantly late, so why rush now), swapping text messages with the birthday girl-cum-co-worker which involved multiple uses of the words "evil", "shots", "horrible", "wankered" and "sandwich".
and now it is 1130. i already accidentally deleted my first go at this post, which was infinitely more witty but horribly spelt and punctuated, and still haven't managed to finish eating my breakfast. but i have made plans to spend all day sunday drinking, so that's taken care of.
i just remembered describing how to make a hologram in the following way: "it's like you have two films and then a laser and then it makes a hologram".
30 August 2005
it keeps getting worse
cnn.com is reporting now that emergency centers are having to be evacuated because of rising water levels. haven't these people dealt with enough? hopefully conditions will begin to improve soon...
hurricane update
from bbc. I really wish the mayor of biloxi would stop referring to it as "our tsunami". we are not a third world nation and that hurricane was not a tsunami. grr.
Strange things always seem to happen with ostriches. I guess this proves it
especially when you're on the golden gate bridge.
guy with book and t shirt and ipod on f train -- w4m
i'll be hard pressed to think of a better combination than missed connections and comedy, and it's happening tomorrow night. right before the joemca and poets show at mercury lounge. plus it's this guy, whose blog i read religiously, and, as i've said before, he's funny.
and jesse helms is just like buddha
our favorite representative of the south is rambling on about how abortion is like the holocaust and Sept. 11th. god bless america.
putting the "park" in national park
i somehow missed this editorial yesterday about Paul Hoffman's visions of snow-mobile, 4-wheel-drive, jet ski and religious paraphenalia-riddled national parks. any talk of evolution, however, is discouraged. both the la times and ny times have pretty in-depth articles about the proposed changes, which include allowing illegal uses of parkland as long as they don't "irreversibly" damage the area. this cat's been up to no good before, when he suggested that the UN remove Yellowstone from its World Heritage list of endangered places.
it looks like this crackpot isn't getting very far, though, as national park elders weren't hearing any of it...
but here's the worst case scenario.
the coalition of national park service retirees has links to the entire document.
it looks like this crackpot isn't getting very far, though, as national park elders weren't hearing any of it...
but here's the worst case scenario.
the coalition of national park service retirees has links to the entire document.
it's better than hewlett's daughter
stereogum's all about jason lee and grandaddy...revealing (via e! online) how the former skater/smart ass (who is, unfortunately, a scientologist) named his kid Pilot Inspektor because of a Grandaddy song and Danny Masterson's (also a scientologist) brother (him too). they also link to g'daddy's new single, which i'm enjoying with a nice cuppa.
$7 for girls, $12 for boys.
so you go through x hours of grueling labor, only to find out you can't see your newborn bundle of joy without kicking a few rupees to the nurse and the night doctor? sweet. (this is, of course, when you make about $1 a day.)
29 August 2005
morbid?
i thought so. here's a life expectancy calculator. although judging by the awkward grammar and spelling errors, i wouldn't take it too seriously. that and they think i'll live to be 85.
from lifehacker (which i highly recommend bookmarking)
from lifehacker (which i highly recommend bookmarking)
someone has more time on their hands than i do
this is an unbelievably detailed how to of how to bake a potato...which is actually pretty damn complicated. i had to call my mom the first time i tried to do it. i like how they also show you how to open it...
still screenhead
still screenhead
they may not like enemas
but apparently they like sinks. even i am not immune to the cuteness of a bunch of kitties hanging out in sinks.
screenhead again.
screenhead again.
politicians are annoying
gawker leads us to the new ad for brian ellner, who's running for manhattan borough cheeseball. hey grew up in sty-town, so that totaly qualifies him. yet another reason to live in brooklyn.
new york at dawn
gothamist reminded me of the article in yesterday's Times about Frederick Brosen's art (watercolors of nyc in the wicked early morning)... turns out the forum gallery is pretty close to my work, so i think i'll be going over to check this out. the paintings are really stunning; and although i don't like to experience them often, those first few hours of daylight are undoubtedly the most beautiful. he also managed to choose some very lovely areas of the city.
architecture in helsinki
are touring!!
but they are in brooklyn right after across the narrows. busy week.
http://www.architectureinhelsinki.com/
but they are in brooklyn right after across the narrows. busy week.
http://www.architectureinhelsinki.com/
take another little piece of my colon
john cleese is selling pieces of his colon. there's really nothing more to say.
here's a nice story about burning man
apparently the residents of this nevada town are getting used to all the weirdos filing through on their way to burning man. and burning man do their part to help out the town in return. turns out the town makes quite a bit of money off of the travelers ("People started realizing that it is a good time to have yard sales,") and that burning man donates money to Gerlach's schools.
w11 knows how to party
awwww, it's notting hill carnival time!!
i can picture the throngs of people dancing down westbourne grove on their way to the party. i recommend that you do not start drinking at 1030am and go out around 1pm only to realize that you and your flatmates are far too drunk to be in a crowd this size. because you will have to return to your flat and content yourself with hanging precariously out the window watching everyone walk by, and take a lot of the same picture over & over again. fear not, though, you will learn your lesson and do things right the second day.
i can picture the throngs of people dancing down westbourne grove on their way to the party. i recommend that you do not start drinking at 1030am and go out around 1pm only to realize that you and your flatmates are far too drunk to be in a crowd this size. because you will have to return to your flat and content yourself with hanging precariously out the window watching everyone walk by, and take a lot of the same picture over & over again. fear not, though, you will learn your lesson and do things right the second day.
$3.50?? when did that happen
so i got the sunday times this weekend, and actually read most of it. they seemed to be a little preoccupied with cougars and other wild animals.
it seems a bunch of whiney dot com bazillionaires in northern california are shitting themselves because there are mountan lions roaming around their 100+ acre estates. One woman won't let her children go to the pool alone anymore. i hate to break it to you, lady, but you shouldn't ever let your kids go to the pool alone. i'm no statistician (nor am i sure if i spelled that right), but i'm pretty f-ing sure that your kids have a much higher chance of drowning in your pool than being eaten by a mountain lion. one dude wants to shoot it and is trying his best to rile up the neighborhood. i'm not entirely sure i'd want to live with a mountain lion super close by, but if i did, am sure that i wouldn't be running around trying to convince everyone to kill them. it seems to me that a) they can just realize that the chances are pretty slim that anything's gonna happen to them, it's not like these guys are out for human blood, they probably want less to do with those bozos than said bozos want to do with them, so everyone should just calm down and 2) aforementioned bozos can move somewhere else, like detroit, which is far safer.
It's a beautiful animal, but mountain lions don't belong in our neighborhood
maybe your neighborhood doesn't belong in their neighborhood. shut up and go spend all your money.
they're all annoyed because they're not allowed to kill the mountain lions. something tells me there will be an "attack" (surely unprovoked and upon an innocent child, just to make the point), and then it'll be open season on the cougars. sigh.
Mr. Thomas's tools include a 10-million-candlepower spotlight that can illuminate his backyard like a Wal-Mart parking lot; a military-issue device that amplifies sound by a factor of 10; and a half-dozen Gen 3 Night Vision Scopes, which would outline a cougar in green if he ever spotted one.
i think this guy belongs in montana somewhere...
then there's the article about the grizzly man man and tanzanian lions going on a rampage and people aren't sure what to do about it. tough call if they're actually being violent and mauling people, and in tanzania the lions are kind of spilling out of a national park, so maybe there needs to be some population control.
it seems a bunch of whiney dot com bazillionaires in northern california are shitting themselves because there are mountan lions roaming around their 100+ acre estates. One woman won't let her children go to the pool alone anymore. i hate to break it to you, lady, but you shouldn't ever let your kids go to the pool alone. i'm no statistician (nor am i sure if i spelled that right), but i'm pretty f-ing sure that your kids have a much higher chance of drowning in your pool than being eaten by a mountain lion. one dude wants to shoot it and is trying his best to rile up the neighborhood. i'm not entirely sure i'd want to live with a mountain lion super close by, but if i did, am sure that i wouldn't be running around trying to convince everyone to kill them. it seems to me that a) they can just realize that the chances are pretty slim that anything's gonna happen to them, it's not like these guys are out for human blood, they probably want less to do with those bozos than said bozos want to do with them, so everyone should just calm down and 2) aforementioned bozos can move somewhere else, like detroit, which is far safer.
It's a beautiful animal, but mountain lions don't belong in our neighborhood
maybe your neighborhood doesn't belong in their neighborhood. shut up and go spend all your money.
they're all annoyed because they're not allowed to kill the mountain lions. something tells me there will be an "attack" (surely unprovoked and upon an innocent child, just to make the point), and then it'll be open season on the cougars. sigh.
Mr. Thomas's tools include a 10-million-candlepower spotlight that can illuminate his backyard like a Wal-Mart parking lot; a military-issue device that amplifies sound by a factor of 10; and a half-dozen Gen 3 Night Vision Scopes, which would outline a cougar in green if he ever spotted one.
i think this guy belongs in montana somewhere...
then there's the article about the grizzly man man and tanzanian lions going on a rampage and people aren't sure what to do about it. tough call if they're actually being violent and mauling people, and in tanzania the lions are kind of spilling out of a national park, so maybe there needs to be some population control.
seriously.
really. come on. please!! this is stupid. if it's so important to you, then go to freaking church. and leave me alone. GODCASTING!?!?!? if there is a god, whoever came up with that better be getting smited right now! send katrina after that kid.
i'm not making the katrina and the waves joke
you can tell something's up when the Times' home page has a different layout. they're serious, people, pay attention. anyway, New Orleans is apparently getting a bit of an ass-kicking and the superdome is leaking, proving somewhat inconvenient for all the new orleansers (?) seeking refuge amongst its yardlines. i hope they're giving them a break on the beer prices.
''We're seen strokes, chest pain, diabetes patients passing out, seizures, people without medicine, people with the wrong medicine. It's been busy.''
(I love finding typos in the Times. it makes me feel superior.)
it sounds a little hairy, though. people aren't allowed on the field because of the possibilty of flooding...but some folks across town and the Ritz are getting popcorn and movies!!
it looks like the eye is just over the area now. biloxi's not looking so hot at the moment. and some asshole rat bastards are apparently price gouging. that's really super.
one night in williamsburg makes a hard man humble
Before i get to the point, i'd like to congratulate myself and all my friends who participated in running up a $180+ tab at the gowanus yacht club on friday night. everyone loves drinking for 8 hours!! in case you're wondering, it's meant to be open until Halloween. And according to Go Brooklyn, Duff is Bud. i couldn't find anything about that charity rumour.
I went to a benefit for the ny neo-futurists last night at galapagos (a fine place to have a benefit). for once the mta's musical trains worked in my favor, whisking me from south to north brooklyn in a mere 25 minutes. the performances were very funny, and i finally saw someone -- three someones in tutus to be exact -- jump into the reflecting pool. that pretty much made it worthwhile right there. we waddled over to capone's, which, despite not being close enough to my house, is one of the awesomest places in the world. super chill, solid beer selection (although my weisse was a little flat), free pizzas with every beer (perhaps even slightly excessive on that one--can i trade a pizza for a free beer instead?), beautiful old style decor, and a gigantic projection screen on which fox's sunday night telly was being shown. if this place were in my neighborhood, i'd be a fat alcoholic in about two weeks. this ups the number of places i like in williamsburg to four.
I went to a benefit for the ny neo-futurists last night at galapagos (a fine place to have a benefit). for once the mta's musical trains worked in my favor, whisking me from south to north brooklyn in a mere 25 minutes. the performances were very funny, and i finally saw someone -- three someones in tutus to be exact -- jump into the reflecting pool. that pretty much made it worthwhile right there. we waddled over to capone's, which, despite not being close enough to my house, is one of the awesomest places in the world. super chill, solid beer selection (although my weisse was a little flat), free pizzas with every beer (perhaps even slightly excessive on that one--can i trade a pizza for a free beer instead?), beautiful old style decor, and a gigantic projection screen on which fox's sunday night telly was being shown. if this place were in my neighborhood, i'd be a fat alcoholic in about two weeks. this ups the number of places i like in williamsburg to four.
26 August 2005
i'll come running to create the windows '95 start-up sound
Yup, Brian Eno did that.
From an interview with the SF Chron. via wikipedia:
The idea came up at the time when I was completely bereft of ideas. I'd been working on my own music for a while and was quite lost, actually. And I really appreciated someone coming along and saying, "Here's a specific problem – solve it." The thing from the agency said, "We want a piece of music that is inspiring, universal, blah-blah, da-da-da, optimistic, futuristic, sentimental, emotional," this whole list of adjectives, and then at the bottom it said "and it must be 3 1/4 seconds long." I thought this was so funny and an amazing thought to actually try to make a little piece of music. It's like making a tiny little jewel. In fact, I made 84 pieces. I got completely into this world of tiny, tiny little pieces of music. I was so sensitive to microseconds at the end of this that it really broke a logjam in my own work. Then when I'd finished that and I went back to working with pieces that were like three minutes long, it seemed like oceans of time.
From an interview with the SF Chron. via wikipedia:
The idea came up at the time when I was completely bereft of ideas. I'd been working on my own music for a while and was quite lost, actually. And I really appreciated someone coming along and saying, "Here's a specific problem – solve it." The thing from the agency said, "We want a piece of music that is inspiring, universal, blah-blah, da-da-da, optimistic, futuristic, sentimental, emotional," this whole list of adjectives, and then at the bottom it said "and it must be 3 1/4 seconds long." I thought this was so funny and an amazing thought to actually try to make a little piece of music. It's like making a tiny little jewel. In fact, I made 84 pieces. I got completely into this world of tiny, tiny little pieces of music. I was so sensitive to microseconds at the end of this that it really broke a logjam in my own work. Then when I'd finished that and I went back to working with pieces that were like three minutes long, it seemed like oceans of time.
Everything I need to know I learned from AM New York
I'd seen this before, but now i'm gonna link to it. If you see the arrow, call the number and they'll tell you something interesting.
Am I the only person who didn't know Mark Mothersbaugh was in Devo? And that he makes pretty cool art?!! (I will also take the time to mention that AM New York got the URL wrong.) And for those of you who don't want to go anywhere, www.mutato.com. It makes cool noises.
There's a listing for Monet's London at the Brooklyn Museum. Go see it, for it closes Sept. 4, and it is very good. It even features the first Monet I ever saw from the High Museum (who may have the best URL ever).
The Baxter opens. I heart Michael Showalter, but it's not playing in Brooklyn yet.
Am I the only person who didn't know Mark Mothersbaugh was in Devo? And that he makes pretty cool art?!! (I will also take the time to mention that AM New York got the URL wrong.) And for those of you who don't want to go anywhere, www.mutato.com. It makes cool noises.
There's a listing for Monet's London at the Brooklyn Museum. Go see it, for it closes Sept. 4, and it is very good. It even features the first Monet I ever saw from the High Museum (who may have the best URL ever).
The Baxter opens. I heart Michael Showalter, but it's not playing in Brooklyn yet.
Where the subway ends
The F and G train will be doing that annoying Hoyt-Schermerhorn split thing this weekend, and Manhattan bound trains will run on the A line from Jay St. to W4th.
The N will stop at Dekalb on its way back into BKLYN and the R will go over the bridge both ways.
Take the B! actually, don't, because it doesn't run on the weekends. hence, no changes.
Stay away from the D!
Or take a different line
Interesting, i just got my "advisory" email from the mta and here's what they say about the d:
The N will stop at Dekalb on its way back into BKLYN and the R will go over the bridge both ways.
Take the B! actually, don't, because it doesn't run on the weekends. hence, no changes.
Stay away from the D!
Or take a different line
Interesting, i just got my "advisory" email from the mta and here's what they say about the d:
D
No diversions scheduled.
So i have no idea what's actually going on with that...
[sic] [sic] [sic] [sic]
So my roommate just came back from China and she brought some dvd's with her, one of which has this wonderfully absurd description:
The New Year's Day starts, 32-year old cloth unusual feel the confidence by oneself living finally of the time arrived at! The comes to of she keeps diary to start in to rise from everyday. Now, read that origin put in bedside of herself the diary that write cloth the unusual life inside stimulates most, the most beautiful and wonderful also let most her feel the excited matter! Because this among them are all her risky with try, is a standpoint to come from her to nearby problem, still has her to experiences personally to the man, to the food and to the sexual reality. In fine, a diary make her start an all new life.
It's for Bridget Jones's Diary...
The New Year's Day starts, 32-year old cloth unusual feel the confidence by oneself living finally of the time arrived at! The comes to of she keeps diary to start in to rise from everyday. Now, read that origin put in bedside of herself the diary that write cloth the unusual life inside stimulates most, the most beautiful and wonderful also let most her feel the excited matter! Because this among them are all her risky with try, is a standpoint to come from her to nearby problem, still has her to experiences personally to the man, to the food and to the sexual reality. In fine, a diary make her start an all new life.
It's for Bridget Jones's Diary...
25 August 2005
les, manhattan island
there are some interesting little tidbits here. good for those of us who like to walk around the LES and think about the olden days.
dude, look what else i just did!
This might be the most productive day i've had since 2000.
i should totally own up to the fact that i took neither of these pictures.
it's a blog!
right, so i haven't a clue what i'm doing here. so i'm going to mess around a bit until i figure all these carat marks out and unleash my inner computer nerd. meanwhile here is my attempt to link to some mtv shit that lets you stream the new death cab for cutie album. 'cause it's fun to link to stuff.
somewhere in downtown brooklyn
Lately, I find myself doing things that I never, ever thought I would do. Like filing a lawsuit. Not only am I deathly afraid of any sort of legal action in general, I am a firm believer that everyone in this country is already suing everyone else in this country at a moronically rapid pace. That woman who spilled coffee over her dumbass self did not deserve money for being an idiot, she deserved to have her driver’s license revoked (but at least she took it from McDonald’s). I spill shit on myself all the time; if I’ve owned it more than 24 hours, it’s got a stain on it. But do you see me taking every street vendor, Mexican restaurant and spaghetti sauce manufacturer to court? No, because I respect the fact that lawsuits should be reserved for things that are not caused by your own damn stupidity, and I am just a messy, spilly person.
Notwithstanding anything to the contrary herein above, my business partners and I converged on 141 Livingston Street in downtown Brooklyn to, well, file a lawsuit.
We are suing the New York International Fringe Festival for our box office proceeds from last year. Although I have nothing but contempt for the Fringe, I have to admit that the situation we are in is not entirely their fault. But owe us money they do, and give it to us (or even promise they will) they haven’t, and we’re pissed, broke and it’s hot. Basically, we’ve been politely asking Fringe to reissue a check, which was unsuccessfully deposited after it expired, since February. As a human being with a checking account (and as the “Financial Director” of our company), I have written quite a few checks in my lifetime, and it doesn’t take six months to write a check. I promise it doesn’t.
At first, I thought all we’d have to do was simply tell the Fringe we needed a new check, they would cut us one and we’d all go on with our lives. Obviously, I am rather naïve when it comes to such things, because what actually happened included a string of (mostly unanswered) communiqués and the final realization that these bastards are ignoring us. So after postponing it as long as we could, and writing as many strongly-worded letters as our vocabularies would allow, we caved and went to what I refer to as “Night Court”.
So there we were, about to embark on our first Commercial Claims Lawsuit at Brooklyn Civil Court. I’ve always considered myself to be somewhat paranoid, but I have nothing on these people. You have to take all electronics out of your pockets or bag and give them to someone who turns them all on and off whilst you and your bag go through metal detectors. Please do not bring a camera of any kind to the Courthouse as it causes mass confusion and panic. I had to leave my phone (with its verboten camera) at the ceaselessly charming “voucher table”.
Although you walk directly out of the metal detector towards said table and instinctually queue in the logical direction of straight ahead, the imposed inefficiency of governmental agencies requires you to walk past the table and around the wall behind the table so you end up facing the very direction whence you came. Then, you may engage the two police officers (who are undoubtedly the bases for several characters on Reno 911!) in a conversation that will leave you befuddled for days. They have your phone and your driver’s license (or other form of ID), which they got from the three police officers running the metal detectors, and they fill out a voucher. Then they ever-so-pleasantly ask you to sign said voucher and give you the pink carbon copy and your license. They (because, remember, it takes two trained police officers to do this) then put your phone in a phone-sized manila envelope and staple it shut with the voucher attached. You are now released to make yet another inexplicable U-turn to get to the elevators. Getting through security was so damn complicated I started looking for a place to get local currency when I finally finished.
Please, do not get in an elevator in the Brooklyn Civil Court and expect the floor number to light up when you push the button. I could hear a soothing female voice: “We do not have the resources to have light-up buttons. We are too busy paying seven police officers to be cranky at the security checkpoints downstairs. 9th Floor: Small Claims Court, Commercial Claims Court”.
There is no way to describe the unspoken depression, frustration and quiet resignation which permeates the 9th Floor of 141 Livingston. When the elevator doors drew apart, I was pretty sure I was at the DMV in my hometown. It was the blandest vacant hallway in all the world, and every employee we passed looked sufficiently beat down from thanklessly working for the city government. But there is something hilarious about walking the length of a wide corridor into a smallish room with four clerk windows – only one of which is open for business – and one long “courthouse” bench, where the sunlight streams in through what must be government-issue blinds and the “Now Serving” sign faces the guy behind the window, not the people waiting.
We took our number, 18 (chai, so that’s kind of lucky, I guess), and waited for the guy in front of us to finish his business. Now, for all the idiocy that pervaded the rest of our time at the courthouse, the clerk at Small Claims Court is destined to be fired for efficiency and competence. He gave us a yellow form with a smile and we filled it out with knitted eyebrows.
Whilst we were filling out our yellow form, a gaggle of clearly irritated men in jean shorts came into the room. They were (we think) Polish, and they were not happy. I have no idea what they were doing there, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t suing the Fringe Festival. By this time the line had grown quite long, so we never were able to find out what their grievance might have been, but I am very glad it wasn’t with us. Meanwhile, our Artistic Director, who was physically filling out the forms, began to have some sort of panic attack. The only logical reaction, of course, was to laugh at her and ask what her freaking problem was; it’s only a yellow form. If you’re gonna panic about something, panic about those angry Eastern Europeans over there.
So we got her all calmed down, figured out what “date of transaction” meant and gave our $29.79 and our yellow form to the very nice clerk, who, because he is so nice, gave us our court date.
We descended in the freight elevator, significantly relieved to have at least part of this process over with. Clearly, our Artistic Director was still a bit shaken: when the elevator stopped at the fourth floor and I tried to step out (in my great haste to exit the premises), the only warning she was able to muster was a semi-autistic sounding repetition of the word “four”.
When we finally reached the promised land of the ground floor, we were faced with the challenge of retrieving my mobile phone. Somehow, even though I was coming at the line from the opposite direction this time, its inventive construction required me to again make two U-turns in order to queue. Officer McGruff used a nifty staple remover that looks more like a letter opener, but whose main function is evidently launching removed staples at the person opposite (i.e., me). Reunited with my phone, we turned to go, only the exit eluded us. Somehow, despite being extremely well signed, the exit was the most complicated part of the whole trip. There are tons of big red and green signs with arrows that say “Exit”, but it is such a counterintuitive flow that the three of us were slamming into each other like Larry, Curly and Moe in front of the voucher table before we finally got a grip and got the hell out.
All was not lost, though, we still managed to fit in a spot of shopping at Brooklyn Industries and dinner at Joya.
Notwithstanding anything to the contrary herein above, my business partners and I converged on 141 Livingston Street in downtown Brooklyn to, well, file a lawsuit.
We are suing the New York International Fringe Festival for our box office proceeds from last year. Although I have nothing but contempt for the Fringe, I have to admit that the situation we are in is not entirely their fault. But owe us money they do, and give it to us (or even promise they will) they haven’t, and we’re pissed, broke and it’s hot. Basically, we’ve been politely asking Fringe to reissue a check, which was unsuccessfully deposited after it expired, since February. As a human being with a checking account (and as the “Financial Director” of our company), I have written quite a few checks in my lifetime, and it doesn’t take six months to write a check. I promise it doesn’t.
At first, I thought all we’d have to do was simply tell the Fringe we needed a new check, they would cut us one and we’d all go on with our lives. Obviously, I am rather naïve when it comes to such things, because what actually happened included a string of (mostly unanswered) communiqués and the final realization that these bastards are ignoring us. So after postponing it as long as we could, and writing as many strongly-worded letters as our vocabularies would allow, we caved and went to what I refer to as “Night Court”.
So there we were, about to embark on our first Commercial Claims Lawsuit at Brooklyn Civil Court. I’ve always considered myself to be somewhat paranoid, but I have nothing on these people. You have to take all electronics out of your pockets or bag and give them to someone who turns them all on and off whilst you and your bag go through metal detectors. Please do not bring a camera of any kind to the Courthouse as it causes mass confusion and panic. I had to leave my phone (with its verboten camera) at the ceaselessly charming “voucher table”.
Although you walk directly out of the metal detector towards said table and instinctually queue in the logical direction of straight ahead, the imposed inefficiency of governmental agencies requires you to walk past the table and around the wall behind the table so you end up facing the very direction whence you came. Then, you may engage the two police officers (who are undoubtedly the bases for several characters on Reno 911!) in a conversation that will leave you befuddled for days. They have your phone and your driver’s license (or other form of ID), which they got from the three police officers running the metal detectors, and they fill out a voucher. Then they ever-so-pleasantly ask you to sign said voucher and give you the pink carbon copy and your license. They (because, remember, it takes two trained police officers to do this) then put your phone in a phone-sized manila envelope and staple it shut with the voucher attached. You are now released to make yet another inexplicable U-turn to get to the elevators. Getting through security was so damn complicated I started looking for a place to get local currency when I finally finished.
Please, do not get in an elevator in the Brooklyn Civil Court and expect the floor number to light up when you push the button. I could hear a soothing female voice: “We do not have the resources to have light-up buttons. We are too busy paying seven police officers to be cranky at the security checkpoints downstairs. 9th Floor: Small Claims Court, Commercial Claims Court”.
There is no way to describe the unspoken depression, frustration and quiet resignation which permeates the 9th Floor of 141 Livingston. When the elevator doors drew apart, I was pretty sure I was at the DMV in my hometown. It was the blandest vacant hallway in all the world, and every employee we passed looked sufficiently beat down from thanklessly working for the city government. But there is something hilarious about walking the length of a wide corridor into a smallish room with four clerk windows – only one of which is open for business – and one long “courthouse” bench, where the sunlight streams in through what must be government-issue blinds and the “Now Serving” sign faces the guy behind the window, not the people waiting.
We took our number, 18 (chai, so that’s kind of lucky, I guess), and waited for the guy in front of us to finish his business. Now, for all the idiocy that pervaded the rest of our time at the courthouse, the clerk at Small Claims Court is destined to be fired for efficiency and competence. He gave us a yellow form with a smile and we filled it out with knitted eyebrows.
Whilst we were filling out our yellow form, a gaggle of clearly irritated men in jean shorts came into the room. They were (we think) Polish, and they were not happy. I have no idea what they were doing there, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t suing the Fringe Festival. By this time the line had grown quite long, so we never were able to find out what their grievance might have been, but I am very glad it wasn’t with us. Meanwhile, our Artistic Director, who was physically filling out the forms, began to have some sort of panic attack. The only logical reaction, of course, was to laugh at her and ask what her freaking problem was; it’s only a yellow form. If you’re gonna panic about something, panic about those angry Eastern Europeans over there.
So we got her all calmed down, figured out what “date of transaction” meant and gave our $29.79 and our yellow form to the very nice clerk, who, because he is so nice, gave us our court date.
We descended in the freight elevator, significantly relieved to have at least part of this process over with. Clearly, our Artistic Director was still a bit shaken: when the elevator stopped at the fourth floor and I tried to step out (in my great haste to exit the premises), the only warning she was able to muster was a semi-autistic sounding repetition of the word “four”.
When we finally reached the promised land of the ground floor, we were faced with the challenge of retrieving my mobile phone. Somehow, even though I was coming at the line from the opposite direction this time, its inventive construction required me to again make two U-turns in order to queue. Officer McGruff used a nifty staple remover that looks more like a letter opener, but whose main function is evidently launching removed staples at the person opposite (i.e., me). Reunited with my phone, we turned to go, only the exit eluded us. Somehow, despite being extremely well signed, the exit was the most complicated part of the whole trip. There are tons of big red and green signs with arrows that say “Exit”, but it is such a counterintuitive flow that the three of us were slamming into each other like Larry, Curly and Moe in front of the voucher table before we finally got a grip and got the hell out.
All was not lost, though, we still managed to fit in a spot of shopping at Brooklyn Industries and dinner at Joya.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)