gizmodo finds a keychain which in turn finds wifi. it's actually reasonably priced, too.
sorry kids, but todd oldham gave this tip many moons ago on House of Style. many moons.
but if i didn't procrastinate, none of this other stuff would ever get done. a to not do list. (both via lifehacker)
19 September 2005
you are warming weather
Sometimes you go see a band that you like and you leave the show wondering if you’ll ever be able to listen to their albums again. I have to give Say Hi To Your Mom a little credit, because Ace of Clubs has some really shitty sound. But I was not exactly blown away by their performance. However, it turned out to be worth it in the end because it was there that I heard about a mythical performance at a bbq in wburg by none other than John Vanderslice. I have been sucking on the Pixel Revolt crack pipe ever since it arrived from deep discount.
Anyway, we left Ace of Clubs and figured we might as well head over to Mercury Lounge and see what the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah situation was…there was a huge line. But, it was pretty early so we decided to wait and see what happens. It was a vaguely entertaining wait, highlighted by some schmuck from Pitchfork screaming down his phone about how he's not on the list, and "I'm from PITCHFORK MEDIA", then finally getting the person he needed, actually saying, "ladies! come with me" only to return with said ladies 45 seconds later and explain that he's not the hot shot he thought he was, and James Iha. Cut to 2.5 hours later. I am whining up a storm, because I am tired of standing and CYHSY have already started. But we are at the front of the line. If two more people leave, we can go in. We manage to get inside in the middle of their third song. Certainly worth the wait, but the crowd didn’t seem to have much energy. Ambulance, Ltd. came on later and we stuck around for it. I’m not totally sold on these guys, they seem to really want to be the Rolling Stones. The bassist makes a good face, though, he looks like he’s gargling. Anyway, they totally won me over with a spot on, super loud rendition of Neil Young’s “Everybody Knows this Is Nowhere” (la, la, la, lala laaa laaaa).
The next day I brunched at Schiller’s Liquor Bar for the first, but certainly not the last, time. Although I discovered that I do not like Welsh Rarebit, those dudes make a wicked good cuppa. And the space is the kind of place you want to sit in for about 4 hours or so and just zone out. I love zoning out.
We walked up to the High Line block party, which was pretty OK. They were out of t-shirts, so I didn’t give them any money. But we got free Smart Water (although I had to listen to 5 minutes of drivel about why smart water is so much better than toilet water), and Izzes (clementine flavor!!), so that was cool. I walked over to Union Square and hopped on to the L.
It is a testament to how much I Love John Vanderslice that I went not one, not two, but three stops into Williamsburg to see him. He was literally playing in someone’s backyard. I got there just as Eric was finishing up his last song, and JV came on about 15 minutes later. We were both wearing ringers!
He played a great deal of Pixel Revolt and finished with an audience participation version of Time Travel Is Lonely. I really wasn’t sure how everything would translate to just JV and an acoustic guitar -- I have never worried so frivolously. I had shivers up my spine and my skin felt electrified through most of the show. Standouts (although everything was great) were “Dear Sarah Shu” (which may be the best song ever) and “trance manual”. JV was very entertaining between songs, as well. There was some discussion of a moth flying into a friend’s mouth and the friend’s lack of willingness to admit something had actually happened. Apparently he just swallowed it and kept on singing. It reminded me of the Radiohead show in Montreal last year--no, shit, that was two years ago--when Thom was surrounded by flies and moths because of the lights and he said there were flies all in his teeth. JV urged us to buy Pixel Revolt from him because he was tired of carrying them around, I almost bought another one to help the brother out. He showed us his new tuner, and promised us all that the party would not stop when he finished playing. No, there would be a dance party. A dance party with R. Kelly. Anyway, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say it was perfect. I was standing about 20 feet away and all the people in front of me were sitting, so I had an unadulterated view, and the weather was beautiful.
I took the G train home and was lucky enough to witness the following:
As we arrive at smith/9th, a couple (teenagers?) were playing in the last carriage. He was outside the door, she was still on the train. She was shrieking and laughing and he was confused. Eventually, they closed all the doors, which she seemed to know was coming. But then as the conductor started walking the length of the train to look for people, she started frantically banging on the door. When he reached her, he went on a rampage: “What the hell you doing playing around? You’re going to Church Avenue.” He was very unhappy, and I was kind of pleased to see this chick get hers, she was clearly a pain in the ass. Then he turns to the boyfriend and says something to him about why the hell is she still on the train and then asks, earnestly, “Is she retarded? Is she? Is. She. Retarded?” It was brilliant. Finally, he let her out and she (proving that something is definitely off somewhere) starts accusing her boyfriend of pushing her into the train, which he clearly had not done. So that was amusing.
With barely any energy left, I hauled my ass back into the city later that night for Walking Concert, who put on a pretty lively show. I feel sorry for any band I see right after I’ve just seen JV rock the backyard. It’s unfair, but true.
Anyway, we left Ace of Clubs and figured we might as well head over to Mercury Lounge and see what the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah situation was…there was a huge line. But, it was pretty early so we decided to wait and see what happens. It was a vaguely entertaining wait, highlighted by some schmuck from Pitchfork screaming down his phone about how he's not on the list, and "I'm from PITCHFORK MEDIA", then finally getting the person he needed, actually saying, "ladies! come with me" only to return with said ladies 45 seconds later and explain that he's not the hot shot he thought he was, and James Iha. Cut to 2.5 hours later. I am whining up a storm, because I am tired of standing and CYHSY have already started. But we are at the front of the line. If two more people leave, we can go in. We manage to get inside in the middle of their third song. Certainly worth the wait, but the crowd didn’t seem to have much energy. Ambulance, Ltd. came on later and we stuck around for it. I’m not totally sold on these guys, they seem to really want to be the Rolling Stones. The bassist makes a good face, though, he looks like he’s gargling. Anyway, they totally won me over with a spot on, super loud rendition of Neil Young’s “Everybody Knows this Is Nowhere” (la, la, la, lala laaa laaaa).
The next day I brunched at Schiller’s Liquor Bar for the first, but certainly not the last, time. Although I discovered that I do not like Welsh Rarebit, those dudes make a wicked good cuppa. And the space is the kind of place you want to sit in for about 4 hours or so and just zone out. I love zoning out.
We walked up to the High Line block party, which was pretty OK. They were out of t-shirts, so I didn’t give them any money. But we got free Smart Water (although I had to listen to 5 minutes of drivel about why smart water is so much better than toilet water), and Izzes (clementine flavor!!), so that was cool. I walked over to Union Square and hopped on to the L.
It is a testament to how much I Love John Vanderslice that I went not one, not two, but three stops into Williamsburg to see him. He was literally playing in someone’s backyard. I got there just as Eric was finishing up his last song, and JV came on about 15 minutes later. We were both wearing ringers!
He played a great deal of Pixel Revolt and finished with an audience participation version of Time Travel Is Lonely. I really wasn’t sure how everything would translate to just JV and an acoustic guitar -- I have never worried so frivolously. I had shivers up my spine and my skin felt electrified through most of the show. Standouts (although everything was great) were “Dear Sarah Shu” (which may be the best song ever) and “trance manual”. JV was very entertaining between songs, as well. There was some discussion of a moth flying into a friend’s mouth and the friend’s lack of willingness to admit something had actually happened. Apparently he just swallowed it and kept on singing. It reminded me of the Radiohead show in Montreal last year--no, shit, that was two years ago--when Thom was surrounded by flies and moths because of the lights and he said there were flies all in his teeth. JV urged us to buy Pixel Revolt from him because he was tired of carrying them around, I almost bought another one to help the brother out. He showed us his new tuner, and promised us all that the party would not stop when he finished playing. No, there would be a dance party. A dance party with R. Kelly. Anyway, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say it was perfect. I was standing about 20 feet away and all the people in front of me were sitting, so I had an unadulterated view, and the weather was beautiful.
I took the G train home and was lucky enough to witness the following:
As we arrive at smith/9th, a couple (teenagers?) were playing in the last carriage. He was outside the door, she was still on the train. She was shrieking and laughing and he was confused. Eventually, they closed all the doors, which she seemed to know was coming. But then as the conductor started walking the length of the train to look for people, she started frantically banging on the door. When he reached her, he went on a rampage: “What the hell you doing playing around? You’re going to Church Avenue.” He was very unhappy, and I was kind of pleased to see this chick get hers, she was clearly a pain in the ass. Then he turns to the boyfriend and says something to him about why the hell is she still on the train and then asks, earnestly, “Is she retarded? Is she? Is. She. Retarded?” It was brilliant. Finally, he let her out and she (proving that something is definitely off somewhere) starts accusing her boyfriend of pushing her into the train, which he clearly had not done. So that was amusing.
With barely any energy left, I hauled my ass back into the city later that night for Walking Concert, who put on a pretty lively show. I feel sorry for any band I see right after I’ve just seen JV rock the backyard. It’s unfair, but true.
arrrgh! oh boy, maties!
it's talk like a pirate day!!! yipee! guess i'll be drinking rum tonight. more pirate fun. and modern pirates. and geek holidays.
more on the park
the times jumps in on the East River park. i'm pretty excited about the idea, but not about any of those high rises...
16 September 2005
i gotta friend in jesus
so i'm reading this RS article about HST's funeral, which is making me a weepy little bitch. i think they should treat thompson like the dalai lama, and immediately search out his reincarnation. i'm dead serious. anyway, it says in this article that dr. gonzo's remains were fired off to the tune of "spirit in the sky". cheeky bastard. what a cryin' shame to lose him.
remember the grasshopper?
i'm tired of thinking of headlines
so here's some stuff without them.
dude, they already have free healthcare, but now the canadians are gonna get nation-wide wifi? canada rocks.
there's one more island in the neighborhood this week.
the subway isn't doing much of anything. the R is going over the bridge. and your friendly reminder at the bottom of the advisory email for this week: Do not lean on train doors
OH MY F'ING JESUS CHRIST this is THE COOLEST thing i've ever seen. my favorite indoor activity according to a close friend of mine is "reading while taking a bath" and it's no lie...and i am soooo gonna get me one of these. and it comes in orange!!!! (bless you, gizmodo)
i don't really get this, but i'm pretty sure everyone's gonna have one in a couple of years. tv on the computer??
source for all things good and time-wasting, screenhead, found this homemade version of the hp photo adverts...i'm fucking impressed.
a man. a couch. manhattan. (screenhead some more)
dude, they already have free healthcare, but now the canadians are gonna get nation-wide wifi? canada rocks.
there's one more island in the neighborhood this week.
the subway isn't doing much of anything. the R is going over the bridge. and your friendly reminder at the bottom of the advisory email for this week: Do not lean on train doors
OH MY F'ING JESUS CHRIST this is THE COOLEST thing i've ever seen. my favorite indoor activity according to a close friend of mine is "reading while taking a bath" and it's no lie...and i am soooo gonna get me one of these. and it comes in orange!!!! (bless you, gizmodo)
i don't really get this, but i'm pretty sure everyone's gonna have one in a couple of years. tv on the computer??
source for all things good and time-wasting, screenhead, found this homemade version of the hp photo adverts...i'm fucking impressed.
a man. a couch. manhattan. (screenhead some more)
hummus advice
when i lived in england, a flatmate and i (whilst we were unemployed) took it upon ourselves to search out the best hummus...it took many days and many french sticks, but we managed to find it... it was israeli and creamy and delicious. and when i game to NY i had to do it all over again. and a brooklyn life clearly has the same priorities...(and i agree with the decision)
cmj bullshit
brooklyn vegan reports on gothamist from day one of cmj...i'm linking this because they talk about hopewell, which includes a friend of mine, and john vanderslice, who i am cookoo for.
most precious blood church
when i first moved to new york, i was totally obsessed with the san gennaro fesitval. i am still a sucker for a street fair, but it finally sank in that Little Italy is having some sort of festival for about 7/8ths of the year...
plague-ridden mice on the loose
i don't know why i think this is so funny, maybe it's all the chocolate i just ate, but the idea that there are bubonically plagued mice somewhere in the tri-state area is really tickling the hell out of me right now.
don't worry, some dude said they would have already died from the disease.
ring around the rosey, pocket full of posey...
don't worry, some dude said they would have already died from the disease.
ring around the rosey, pocket full of posey...
tailback on the carriageway
the welsh are backing up traffic in a protest agains high gas prices... The demos are timed to coincide with the fifth anniversary of the refinery blockades of 2000, when protesters brought much of Britain to a standstill. I actually remember that vaguely, people were pissed.
however, i can't help but be a little concerned. this is a pretty inefficient thing to do, creepy traffic burns a lot of gasoline (or diesel) and releases noxious fumes, etc. i do admire their cheekiness, though.
however, i can't help but be a little concerned. this is a pretty inefficient thing to do, creepy traffic burns a lot of gasoline (or diesel) and releases noxious fumes, etc. i do admire their cheekiness, though.
guess the employee handbook
The image to be projected is one of glamour.
Males are not to wear make up.
No midriff is to show.
Tongue piercing is not allowed.
Pantyhose are a required part of the uniform.
Tattoos are not allowed to show.
(smoking gun via fark)
Males are not to wear make up.
No midriff is to show.
Tongue piercing is not allowed.
Pantyhose are a required part of the uniform.
Tattoos are not allowed to show.
(smoking gun via fark)
russia's giving us a pressie!!
The 106-foot-tall bronze and steel sculpture will feature a teardrop hanging in the middle of a rectangular structure. The granite base where the monument will stand has 11 sides, and the names of 9/11 victims as well as victims of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing will be engraved on the base.
sounds pretty nice.
(merci, fark)
sounds pretty nice.
(merci, fark)
white house sold to online casino
oh, yeah, goldenpalace.com bought the deed to the White House...for what i have no idea...it will go on tour with their roving museum of shit that really excites people who live in trailer parks. you may remember goldenpalace from such pointless acquisitions as: Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese Sandwich, Britney Spears' Pregnancy Test, and Pope Benedict XVI's previously-owned VW Golf.
so how much did they pay, you ask? the low, low, (actually pretty low) price of $43.45!!!
(xo fark)
so how much did they pay, you ask? the low, low, (actually pretty low) price of $43.45!!!
(xo fark)
let's get it on(line)
someone doesn't like the idea of a red-light district on the Internet through a ".xxx" suffix. it sounds hilarious to me.
toyota to go all-'brid w/in 10 years
"In the future, the cars you see from Toyota will be 100 percent hybrid,"
nitpicky, can something be 100% hybrid? no matter, go 'yota!
nitpicky, can something be 100% hybrid? no matter, go 'yota!
it isn't hard to do
imagine a shitty show on broaday.
i didn't know john lennon, but i'm gonna venture a guess that if he knew there was some cheesey-ass broadway musical about his life he'd be pretty annoyed. but now he can rest in peace.
i didn't know john lennon, but i'm gonna venture a guess that if he knew there was some cheesey-ass broadway musical about his life he'd be pretty annoyed. but now he can rest in peace.
panic on the streets of anywhere
what is it with the media and scaring people (or trying to)? we live on a planet...things happen to planets, just like they do to people. sometimes you get a zit and sometimes a volcano errupts. you can't live anywhere and avoid everything, risk is part of life. we mourn the loss of lives under any circumstances, but running around yelling about "what would happen to new york?" or "look out san francisco!" isn't really doing anyone a whole lot of good. you know what will happen if new york floods? we'll deal. that's what people did on sept. 11, that's what people do when shit happens. because we have no other choice. we cannot protect ourselves from everything. i'm tired of people trying to convince each other that there is some way to avoid the pain and suffering that comes with natural or terrorist-caused disasters. life's a bitch.
15 September 2005
what the hell kind of weed are they smoking?
i've smoked a lot of weed in my life, and i've seen a lot of other people smoke a lot of weed, and i've never seen anyone do anything even minutely resembling this
"He got mad at that table in there and started punching it. He split open his knuckle and broke the leg of the table."
the best that you can get, until we make a seven-bladed razor that gives you a hand job
honestly, i really don't get this razor "system" shit. how close do you think you're going to shave? is someone really trying to deveolp a razor that shaves off three layers of your skin, too, so you don't have to shave for a week? and two(!!) moisturizing strips. holy fuck.
oh, and it's called the "fusion". and what's so amazing is apparently when schlick introduced their four-blade "quattro" (can't audi do some infringement shit with that?), it actually (no pun intended) cut into gillette's profits. which means people are actually stupid enough to believe this crap. i hate to break it to you, but you have to shave, all the time, every day. unless you wanna go get your face waxed.
this is priceless: the CEO and president of Gillette says,
"The Schick launch has nothing to do with this, it's like comparing a Ferrari to a Volkswagen as far as we're concerned,"
i am at a loss for words.
oh, and it's called the "fusion". and what's so amazing is apparently when schlick introduced their four-blade "quattro" (can't audi do some infringement shit with that?), it actually (no pun intended) cut into gillette's profits. which means people are actually stupid enough to believe this crap. i hate to break it to you, but you have to shave, all the time, every day. unless you wanna go get your face waxed.
this is priceless: the CEO and president of Gillette says,
"The Schick launch has nothing to do with this, it's like comparing a Ferrari to a Volkswagen as far as we're concerned,"
i am at a loss for words.
audrey, what are you so mad about?
apparently this guy mowed a "two word expletive" into his lawn to protest a law about how long your grass has to be and now his neighbors are pissed.
"I have three children, and two of them will definitely know what that says. It worries me," she said. "We don't want our children to be around that kind of stuff."
but thanks to the constitution, his neighbors can suck it:
Conboy said it would be different if the homeowner threatened city employees by saying the expletive, but on the lawn, it's a passive statement protected by the First Amendment.
"I have three children, and two of them will definitely know what that says. It worries me," she said. "We don't want our children to be around that kind of stuff."
but thanks to the constitution, his neighbors can suck it:
Conboy said it would be different if the homeowner threatened city employees by saying the expletive, but on the lawn, it's a passive statement protected by the First Amendment.
i'm in a bit of a pickle. a pickle POTATO CHIP!!
we get drunk on [wednesday] night
Last night a friend (hi Jeremy!) and I went to a new bar on 3rd ave between President and Union (that’s just a few blocks over from the GYC!) called Canal Bar. It’s across from a used car lot, and if there was ever a place in Brooklyn where you could look out the window and feel like you’re somewhere in the Midwest, this is totally it.
When we arrived, we were the only two patrons. Actually, despite the bar becoming fairly full by the time we left, we were still the only patrons; everyone else seemed to be an owner or friend of owner.
Canal Bar is the kind of bar they make a movie out of. The three partners I met each fell into a pretty solid stereotype–the neurotic jew (see: the guy from A Mighty Wind), the Brooklyn-born, Staten Island-bred Italian who looks like Dave Attell (and who is super, super nice) and the guy who looks like Lou Reed about 20 years ago and spends a lot of time snarling–all undeniably Brooklyn. The more I think about it, the harder it is for me to figure out how these three dudes came together, became friends and decided to open a bar, but it seems like that happened, so I’ll just go with it.
I had nice chats with the neurotic jew, whose name I think turned out to be Seth, (he drank cokes the whole time and was a little worried when he climbed up on barstools—that’s right, one for each foot—to try to figure out how to turn on the TV (which he couldn’t) he actually said something along the lines of “I don’t think that’s stable enough for me to reach any higher”) and with Staten Island Louie.
Seth and I discussed what was going to happen to 3rd avenue in the next few years. It seems pretty ripe for The Gentrification, there’s a lot of warehouse space that could easily be converted into loft space and there are some empty lots that could be developed. Seth really hopes a restaurant or two opens up in the area. I told him to advertise on 5th avenue because there isn’t much around besides Great Lakes, especially as you go north, and Great Lakes is the most depressing place in the world. He is very nice and really cares a lot about the bar being a success, even if he doesn’t seem to really like bars.
Louie told me how Smith Street and 5th avenue were all crack dens and hookers 25 years ago, and how they weren’t gonna let anyone that annoyed them come back to their bar. He explained that the jukebox was filled with (a really solid selection of) old Rolling Stones and Johnny Cash for a reason (although someone did play a Coldplay song at some point, and there was lots of Nirvana, so). Lou Reed and homeless Danny, who let me punch him in the stomach, told me about the good ol’ days when they lived in a van, not down by the river, but in SoHo. Then he showed me that he had no teeth, which he seemed pretty proud of, and offered me a “gumming”, which, tempting though it was, I declined. I suppose I shouldn’t have encouraged him by spanking him on the sidewalk, because then he licked my neck. That was pretty gross. But not as gross as that grasshopper thing (that’s for you Jeremy).
The bar itself is pretty nice, everything’s new and clean, although I thought it was a little strange that there’s a “men’s” room and an “accessible” room. One of the barmaids is a dancer and the other is a poetess. There is $2 pbr, the Hoegaarden is a fiver and Yuengling is 4. And it appears that they knew how to pull a Guinness.
By about 9pm, we were all a little drunk and things were getting loud. The bar had filled up with friends of the owners and they were all yelling about something. There was a Bo’Sox Vs. Yankees argument at some point; the guy who had let me punch him was now offering to buy us drinks. Louie sent some shots our way, and we took them.
Finally we realized we had a longish journey home and it was time to leave and maybe find something to eat. We discussed the randomness of the evening on the walk home. It reminded me of an airport bar, which rank amongst my favorite places. You meet totally random people from all over the place going all over the place for different reasons and everyone’s defenses are down and you can have some amazing interactions.
So if you’re on 3rd avenue, stop by and say hi to Seth, Louie and whatever the guy who looks like Lou Reed’s name is. Perhaps you might want to stay away from Danny. Anyone who loves talking to some hard Brooklyn types and who is OK with the possiblilty of violence breaking out at any moment will love this place.
And because I'm no plagarist, here is Jeremy's review of the evening:
Danny doesn't give a fuck. He'll kick our asses.
My favorite exchange of the evening:
-I don't have any teeth.
-Where are they?
-I lost 'em.
-How?
-I don't know. I just lost 'em.
They used to live a VAN in front of a BAR down in SOHO!
When we arrived, we were the only two patrons. Actually, despite the bar becoming fairly full by the time we left, we were still the only patrons; everyone else seemed to be an owner or friend of owner.
Canal Bar is the kind of bar they make a movie out of. The three partners I met each fell into a pretty solid stereotype–the neurotic jew (see: the guy from A Mighty Wind), the Brooklyn-born, Staten Island-bred Italian who looks like Dave Attell (and who is super, super nice) and the guy who looks like Lou Reed about 20 years ago and spends a lot of time snarling–all undeniably Brooklyn. The more I think about it, the harder it is for me to figure out how these three dudes came together, became friends and decided to open a bar, but it seems like that happened, so I’ll just go with it.
I had nice chats with the neurotic jew, whose name I think turned out to be Seth, (he drank cokes the whole time and was a little worried when he climbed up on barstools—that’s right, one for each foot—to try to figure out how to turn on the TV (which he couldn’t) he actually said something along the lines of “I don’t think that’s stable enough for me to reach any higher”) and with Staten Island Louie.
Seth and I discussed what was going to happen to 3rd avenue in the next few years. It seems pretty ripe for The Gentrification, there’s a lot of warehouse space that could easily be converted into loft space and there are some empty lots that could be developed. Seth really hopes a restaurant or two opens up in the area. I told him to advertise on 5th avenue because there isn’t much around besides Great Lakes, especially as you go north, and Great Lakes is the most depressing place in the world. He is very nice and really cares a lot about the bar being a success, even if he doesn’t seem to really like bars.
Louie told me how Smith Street and 5th avenue were all crack dens and hookers 25 years ago, and how they weren’t gonna let anyone that annoyed them come back to their bar. He explained that the jukebox was filled with (a really solid selection of) old Rolling Stones and Johnny Cash for a reason (although someone did play a Coldplay song at some point, and there was lots of Nirvana, so). Lou Reed and homeless Danny, who let me punch him in the stomach, told me about the good ol’ days when they lived in a van, not down by the river, but in SoHo. Then he showed me that he had no teeth, which he seemed pretty proud of, and offered me a “gumming”, which, tempting though it was, I declined. I suppose I shouldn’t have encouraged him by spanking him on the sidewalk, because then he licked my neck. That was pretty gross. But not as gross as that grasshopper thing (that’s for you Jeremy).
The bar itself is pretty nice, everything’s new and clean, although I thought it was a little strange that there’s a “men’s” room and an “accessible” room. One of the barmaids is a dancer and the other is a poetess. There is $2 pbr, the Hoegaarden is a fiver and Yuengling is 4. And it appears that they knew how to pull a Guinness.
By about 9pm, we were all a little drunk and things were getting loud. The bar had filled up with friends of the owners and they were all yelling about something. There was a Bo’Sox Vs. Yankees argument at some point; the guy who had let me punch him was now offering to buy us drinks. Louie sent some shots our way, and we took them.
Finally we realized we had a longish journey home and it was time to leave and maybe find something to eat. We discussed the randomness of the evening on the walk home. It reminded me of an airport bar, which rank amongst my favorite places. You meet totally random people from all over the place going all over the place for different reasons and everyone’s defenses are down and you can have some amazing interactions.
So if you’re on 3rd avenue, stop by and say hi to Seth, Louie and whatever the guy who looks like Lou Reed’s name is. Perhaps you might want to stay away from Danny. Anyone who loves talking to some hard Brooklyn types and who is OK with the possiblilty of violence breaking out at any moment will love this place.
And because I'm no plagarist, here is Jeremy's review of the evening:
Danny doesn't give a fuck. He'll kick our asses.
My favorite exchange of the evening:
-I don't have any teeth.
-Where are they?
-I lost 'em.
-How?
-I don't know. I just lost 'em.
They used to live a VAN in front of a BAR down in SOHO!
come fly the bankrupt skies.
delta & northwest go chapter11 on your ass. i'm opening the polls--which airline will go down next?
more people coming to their senses about George II. "More Americans now distrust the federal government to do the right thing than at any time since the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. " that's so comforting. why is no one talking impeachment? someone get an intern in there to give this guy a blow job!
and, of course, today's car bombing in iraq
more people coming to their senses about George II. "More Americans now distrust the federal government to do the right thing than at any time since the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. " that's so comforting. why is no one talking impeachment? someone get an intern in there to give this guy a blow job!
and, of course, today's car bombing in iraq
14 September 2005
a special new band
death of the rock snob. kinda sad when you think about it. mostly 'cause it means i've wasted thousands of dollars.
we can be happy underground
it's weird, they're willing to ask us for a loan, but they're not willing to hold out for a bidder who will pay them what the Atlantic Yards property is worth? $1.5 billion. maybe they should start going undercover as buskers in the stations.
(Gothamist)
(Gothamist)
afternoon delight
the high line
itunes 5 funny
it's the end of the LES as we know it. and i feel...not so fine. “The Lower East side is imbued with a history of rich ethnic tradition,” but we're gonna do all we can to get rid of that asap.
and some brooklyn RE news...the BQE park
and coney island will be lobotomized.
breaking news--trash reproducing
itunes 5 funny
it's the end of the LES as we know it. and i feel...not so fine. “The Lower East side is imbued with a history of rich ethnic tradition,” but we're gonna do all we can to get rid of that asap.
and some brooklyn RE news...the BQE park
and coney island will be lobotomized.
breaking news--trash reproducing
don't go anywhere on the east side
from at least 42nd to 51st and from park avenue east, it's a swarm of cops and police barricades. i also notice that the cops are armed with those plastic handcuff thingies, all ready for anyone who might have something to say. hopefully all this will be over soon.
let's not get carried away here
this morning's heartbreak.
A suicide bomber lured a crowd of men eager for labor to his minivan, and then blew it up just before 7 a.m., killing at least 80 people and wounding 162 in Khadhimiya, a Shiite neighborhood.
13 September 2005
the cloud room
Named after the Prohibition-era speakeasy that was once located at the top of The Chrysler building...
what more do you need to know?
you can stream it through Rachel at www.scenestars.nethow to stick it to the man
But one of the best ways to fight gasoline prices is for consumers to boycott gas stations' convenience stores. Pay cash where possible; do not use an oil company credit card, because you are paying an even higher price when the interest rate is figured in at the end of every month.
it's evolution, baby!
my roommate just brought this article to my attention. Someone PLEASE explain this:
A widely circulated Christian magazine said it made "a strong case for intelligent design."
you wanna argue that? i argue that it promotes single-parent households and homosexuality! the moms and dads are rarely together with their young, and they abandon them after about a year.
here's a quote I've taken out of context because it doesn't make any more sense when it's in context:
This is the first movie they've enjoyed since 'The Passion of the Christ.' This is 'The 'Passion of the Penguins.' "
Well, I certainly base my movie choices on the opnions of those who enjoyed the passion of the christ. Please, give me Super Troopers any day of the week over that shite.
But wait, there's more:
"That any one of these eggs survives is a remarkable feat - and, some might suppose, a strong case for intelligent design," he wrote. "It's sad that acknowledgment of a creator is absent in the examination of such strange and wonderful animals. But it's also a gap easily filled by family discussion after the film."
That any one of these eggs survives shows that survival of the fittest has worked over generations to create more penguins and penguin eggs that are used to the weather on the fucking south pole. come on! if there was intelligent design behind this, the penguins would have to walk like six blocks to their nearest chinese take away and they'd all have dvr. And i'm sure by "family discussion", he means innundating your children with bullshit.
and if you call now, you can download a march of the penguins workshop packet from this psycho freak.
"Please use the notebook, flashlight and pen provided," it says, "to write down what God speaks to you as He speaks it to you."
Oh, come on. if God is talking to you, don't need a flashlight!
and they've actually got me believing the movie executives:
the movie is simply a tale about penguins and that any attempt to divine a deeper meaning is misguided.
A widely circulated Christian magazine said it made "a strong case for intelligent design."
you wanna argue that? i argue that it promotes single-parent households and homosexuality! the moms and dads are rarely together with their young, and they abandon them after about a year.
here's a quote I've taken out of context because it doesn't make any more sense when it's in context:
This is the first movie they've enjoyed since 'The Passion of the Christ.' This is 'The 'Passion of the Penguins.' "
Well, I certainly base my movie choices on the opnions of those who enjoyed the passion of the christ. Please, give me Super Troopers any day of the week over that shite.
But wait, there's more:
"That any one of these eggs survives is a remarkable feat - and, some might suppose, a strong case for intelligent design," he wrote. "It's sad that acknowledgment of a creator is absent in the examination of such strange and wonderful animals. But it's also a gap easily filled by family discussion after the film."
That any one of these eggs survives shows that survival of the fittest has worked over generations to create more penguins and penguin eggs that are used to the weather on the fucking south pole. come on! if there was intelligent design behind this, the penguins would have to walk like six blocks to their nearest chinese take away and they'd all have dvr. And i'm sure by "family discussion", he means innundating your children with bullshit.
and if you call now, you can download a march of the penguins workshop packet from this psycho freak.
"Please use the notebook, flashlight and pen provided," it says, "to write down what God speaks to you as He speaks it to you."
Oh, come on. if God is talking to you, don't need a flashlight!
and they've actually got me believing the movie executives:
the movie is simply a tale about penguins and that any attempt to divine a deeper meaning is misguided.
soy un perdedor
I mean Soy Cuba. I saw this movie a couple of years ago and it was totally weird. Aside from all the pro-communist shit, it's beautifully shot and totally makes you want a mojito. At Film Forum from friday.
remember that line from the hannukah song?
the one about OJ? Well it applies to madonna, too
Tuesday, September 13 - Sunday, September 25, check for timesThe New York Jewish Music & Heritage Festival
The 2005 New York Jewish Music & Heritage Festival runs 10 days and includes over 60 concerts in prestigious concert halls, venues, and synagogues. It culminates in a large outdoor all-day free event on September 25.This unique series of events is able to reach a broad audience (young and old, religious and unaffiliated) and facilitates a shared connection through the universal language of music.Tonight's opening night show at the 92nd Street Y is "Great Jewish Artists Perform Great Jewish Composers" featuring:
MATISYAHU performing Shlomo Carlebach
KLEZMATICS performing Randy Newman
REGINA SPEKTOR performing Leonard Cohen and Madonna
MARC RIBOT performing the music of Billy Joel
URI CRAINE performing Aaron Copeland
PHARAOH'S DAUGHTER performing Carly Simon
Tuesday, September 13 - Sunday, September 25, check for timesThe New York Jewish Music & Heritage Festival
The 2005 New York Jewish Music & Heritage Festival runs 10 days and includes over 60 concerts in prestigious concert halls, venues, and synagogues. It culminates in a large outdoor all-day free event on September 25.This unique series of events is able to reach a broad audience (young and old, religious and unaffiliated) and facilitates a shared connection through the universal language of music.Tonight's opening night show at the 92nd Street Y is "Great Jewish Artists Perform Great Jewish Composers" featuring:
MATISYAHU performing Shlomo Carlebach
KLEZMATICS performing Randy Newman
REGINA SPEKTOR performing Leonard Cohen and Madonna
MARC RIBOT performing the music of Billy Joel
URI CRAINE performing Aaron Copeland
PHARAOH'S DAUGHTER performing Carly Simon
back in the hiiiiiigh liiiiiife again...
my favorite almost lost cause, the High Line, is having a block party this weekend...i can hardly contain my excitement.
post-lunch update
there are now three more news vans parked around the block of my building. I hypothesized, due to our proximity to the waldorf-astoria, that maybe it's to do with the UN, because they're doing some shit today and tomorrow.
george II admits he doesn't care about black people
because W. took responsibility the levees are magically sealed and the water recedes and the stores restock their shelves and all is good with the world!!!
the amazing adventures of some kids trying to sue the fringe festival
When we last left our heroes, they were happily put on the calendar for a September 12 court date… Here follows the continuing saga of:
The Lawsuit Gang!
Unfazed by evil (or confused) people standing in the lobby in front of the siren-guarded voucher table, our heroes trudged forward through the dangerous Fireswamp of Bureaucracy. Whilst others were barked at: “yeah, the line starts this way”, the three purveyors of justice walked straight around – and around – and got in the line, for they had right and good and experience with government idiocy on their side.
Cameraphone girl, challenged by the vile Rastafarian Police Officer (Evil Nesta) to distinguish her phone (which had her PHOTO ID in it) from that of a 60-year-old white-haired guy’s phone (which had his PHOTO ID in it), flashed a grin, released a pointer finger and said, “that’s my phone”. She was empowered -- she’d learned the Evil Nesta’s weakness: Shania Twain, for he was playing it on the radio emblazoned: “Lobby do not remove” [sic].
The brave three continued through the swarm of people, which dissipated when the friendly Fireswamp Security Officer broke the spell: “you don’t have to stand here if you’re not vouchering”.
As Hatandtie Boy went to get some magical gum, Cameraphone Girl and Slightlyoverpanicked Girl decided to take their chances on the ancient hidden stairway.
The gang arrived at the third floor, and were assigned to the Jury Room, where they bravely sat down amongst the piles of frivolous lawsuit-makers.
Hatandtie Boy and Cameraphone Girl engaged in a fairly pointless argument about how hats are different from wigs and why women don’t have to take their wigs off inside but men have to take their hats off. Slightlyoverpanicked Girl stepped in to save the day with the mythical puzzle of the crossed words from the Christian Sabbath edition of the Big City Journal Magazine. Our heroes clenched their jaws and chewed on pens and bit their nails as they filled out one after another of the clues…all was almost lost when Cameraphone girl filled in the right answer into the wrong set of boxes, but just in the nick of time, she noticed and tried to quietly remedy her mistake. She was caught by her comrades, but they forgave her, as is their way.
Finally, the Emperor of the Calendar banged the amplifier to his mic a few dozen times and began speaking. Clearly tired of spouting the same rubbish speech over and over again, he informed everyone how to answer when called and what room they need to be in and when in the same bored, tired and forced voice a flight attendant uses when telling passengers that their seatcushions can also be used as floatation devices.
Time oozed on, and our heroes tried to stay awake despite the lulling sound of the Emperor calling out names of plaintiffs and defendants, most of whom ignored his order to answer not with “here” but by repeating their own names, which then caused the Emperor's rage to grow as his order boomed out again and again from the amplifier: “answer with your name, not here”. Undaunted, the Lawsuit Gang pressed on through their puzzle, trying to unlock the mystery of, um, the puzzle.
The Lawsuit Gang had chosen a civilian name that begins with “W” and were therefore the last to be called. They tried to keep their thoughts of justice pure when a woman threatened to sue the court itself because she almost slipped on water on the floor of room 305. The Emperor finally blessed them with a directive to an inquest, but first they would have to proove themselves in room 509.
Again, our heroes retreated to the ancient stairs, which became more treacherous as they ascended. What awaited them in room 509, they wondered…Cameraphone Girl was beginning to lose interest in the whole stupid ass process, Hatandtie Boy’s thirst for vengeance was piqued and Slightlyoverpanicked Girl was about to change her name to Overpanicked Girl.
The three blasted through the door of the stairwell and marched through the 5th floor corridor. They noticed a smell, and water on the floor. Perhaps these two are connected, Cameraphone Girl thought as she entered the, um, magical WC. Once the three were reunited in room 509, the enemies they would have to defeat became clear. Aside from the various distractions of others in the room who were using justice for their own personal gains, there were, at the front of the room under the “IN GOD WE TRUST” sign, Insanelyslowpaperwork Dude and Iamapparentlyinnorushtogetoutofhere Man.
The heroes were beginning to tire, they had been fighting their battle for over an hour and a half now, and their dinner plans were seemingly going to shit. They wondered if they would ever eat again, see the sunshine again, get to the drinks they were hoping for after the trial.
Slightlyoverpanicked girl realized they were losing strength because of the foul stench in the room. Luckily, just then, in stepped lysolcanbaliff to hose down the entire — entire — room with disinfectant spray. All were saved, except for the horrendous headaches the Lysol caused. Then the rare bulletproof-vested mopkeeper appeared and smeared the offending liquid all over the floor, leaving behind the stench of Lysol and mopwater to intermingle with the original poison.
Meanwhile, Insanelyslowpaperwork Dude and Iamapparentlyinnorushtogetoutofhere Man were alternately doing their jobs inefficiently, yelling at people to get off their cellphones and threatening to send people to “day court”. Upon hearing these words, one of the denizens of night court yelled, “One love! You’re gonna be dead before you get that money!” Our heroes knew they were close to the fire.
Finally, after two hours, Cameraphone Girl, Hatandtie Boy and Slightlyoverpanicked Girl were assigned to the magical kingdom of 507, where they would meet the Beneficent Arbitrator, the only one who could grant them the Rod of Justice.
And so, with a three-minute explanation of the situation, the Beneficent Arbitrator dismissed the lawsuit gang, whose defendants hadn’t even bothered to show up, telling them they’d get a decision in the mail. Hatandtie Boy and Slightlyoverpanicked Girl were disappointed in the anticlimactic resolution, but Cameraphone Girl reminded them: “justice was on our side, we couldn’t lose, we didn’t have to convince anyone of anything”. And the three banded together and walked into the elevator, which had been recently repaired – with duct tape.
The Lawsuit Gang!
Unfazed by evil (or confused) people standing in the lobby in front of the siren-guarded voucher table, our heroes trudged forward through the dangerous Fireswamp of Bureaucracy. Whilst others were barked at: “yeah, the line starts this way”, the three purveyors of justice walked straight around – and around – and got in the line, for they had right and good and experience with government idiocy on their side.
Cameraphone girl, challenged by the vile Rastafarian Police Officer (Evil Nesta) to distinguish her phone (which had her PHOTO ID in it) from that of a 60-year-old white-haired guy’s phone (which had his PHOTO ID in it), flashed a grin, released a pointer finger and said, “that’s my phone”. She was empowered -- she’d learned the Evil Nesta’s weakness: Shania Twain, for he was playing it on the radio emblazoned: “Lobby do not remove” [sic].
The brave three continued through the swarm of people, which dissipated when the friendly Fireswamp Security Officer broke the spell: “you don’t have to stand here if you’re not vouchering”.
As Hatandtie Boy went to get some magical gum, Cameraphone Girl and Slightlyoverpanicked Girl decided to take their chances on the ancient hidden stairway.
The gang arrived at the third floor, and were assigned to the Jury Room, where they bravely sat down amongst the piles of frivolous lawsuit-makers.
Hatandtie Boy and Cameraphone Girl engaged in a fairly pointless argument about how hats are different from wigs and why women don’t have to take their wigs off inside but men have to take their hats off. Slightlyoverpanicked Girl stepped in to save the day with the mythical puzzle of the crossed words from the Christian Sabbath edition of the Big City Journal Magazine. Our heroes clenched their jaws and chewed on pens and bit their nails as they filled out one after another of the clues…all was almost lost when Cameraphone girl filled in the right answer into the wrong set of boxes, but just in the nick of time, she noticed and tried to quietly remedy her mistake. She was caught by her comrades, but they forgave her, as is their way.
Finally, the Emperor of the Calendar banged the amplifier to his mic a few dozen times and began speaking. Clearly tired of spouting the same rubbish speech over and over again, he informed everyone how to answer when called and what room they need to be in and when in the same bored, tired and forced voice a flight attendant uses when telling passengers that their seatcushions can also be used as floatation devices.
Time oozed on, and our heroes tried to stay awake despite the lulling sound of the Emperor calling out names of plaintiffs and defendants, most of whom ignored his order to answer not with “here” but by repeating their own names, which then caused the Emperor's rage to grow as his order boomed out again and again from the amplifier: “answer with your name, not here”. Undaunted, the Lawsuit Gang pressed on through their puzzle, trying to unlock the mystery of, um, the puzzle.
The Lawsuit Gang had chosen a civilian name that begins with “W” and were therefore the last to be called. They tried to keep their thoughts of justice pure when a woman threatened to sue the court itself because she almost slipped on water on the floor of room 305. The Emperor finally blessed them with a directive to an inquest, but first they would have to proove themselves in room 509.
Again, our heroes retreated to the ancient stairs, which became more treacherous as they ascended. What awaited them in room 509, they wondered…Cameraphone Girl was beginning to lose interest in the whole stupid ass process, Hatandtie Boy’s thirst for vengeance was piqued and Slightlyoverpanicked Girl was about to change her name to Overpanicked Girl.
The three blasted through the door of the stairwell and marched through the 5th floor corridor. They noticed a smell, and water on the floor. Perhaps these two are connected, Cameraphone Girl thought as she entered the, um, magical WC. Once the three were reunited in room 509, the enemies they would have to defeat became clear. Aside from the various distractions of others in the room who were using justice for their own personal gains, there were, at the front of the room under the “IN GOD WE TRUST” sign, Insanelyslowpaperwork Dude and Iamapparentlyinnorushtogetoutofhere Man.
The heroes were beginning to tire, they had been fighting their battle for over an hour and a half now, and their dinner plans were seemingly going to shit. They wondered if they would ever eat again, see the sunshine again, get to the drinks they were hoping for after the trial.
Slightlyoverpanicked girl realized they were losing strength because of the foul stench in the room. Luckily, just then, in stepped lysolcanbaliff to hose down the entire — entire — room with disinfectant spray. All were saved, except for the horrendous headaches the Lysol caused. Then the rare bulletproof-vested mopkeeper appeared and smeared the offending liquid all over the floor, leaving behind the stench of Lysol and mopwater to intermingle with the original poison.
Meanwhile, Insanelyslowpaperwork Dude and Iamapparentlyinnorushtogetoutofhere Man were alternately doing their jobs inefficiently, yelling at people to get off their cellphones and threatening to send people to “day court”. Upon hearing these words, one of the denizens of night court yelled, “One love! You’re gonna be dead before you get that money!” Our heroes knew they were close to the fire.
Finally, after two hours, Cameraphone Girl, Hatandtie Boy and Slightlyoverpanicked Girl were assigned to the magical kingdom of 507, where they would meet the Beneficent Arbitrator, the only one who could grant them the Rod of Justice.
And so, with a three-minute explanation of the situation, the Beneficent Arbitrator dismissed the lawsuit gang, whose defendants hadn’t even bothered to show up, telling them they’d get a decision in the mail. Hatandtie Boy and Slightlyoverpanicked Girl were disappointed in the anticlimactic resolution, but Cameraphone Girl reminded them: “justice was on our side, we couldn’t lose, we didn’t have to convince anyone of anything”. And the three banded together and walked into the elevator, which had been recently repaired – with duct tape.
lift my head, i'm still yawning
gifford miller was totally kissing the slope's collective ass this morning, he shook my hand at the subway stop. he looks like a slimeball, but he makes a good case. i didn't vote b/c i'm not registered as a democrat, and i kind of wanted to tell him that. i also wanted to ask him for his home number so if he got elected and fell short of any of his campaign promises i could call him up and bitch him out on a daily basis, but i didn't do that either.
coming out of the subway in the city i was behind an old dude in a suit who was moving a little slowly. normally slow people make me want to breathe fire (or throw rocks), but this guy was obviously moving as fast as he could. as we are going through those totally moronic relvolving-door-exits from the subway, the guy behind me starts pushing it really fast, clipping the old dude as he was trying to emerge from the cage. seriously, what's the point of doing that? poor dude is just trying to make it out of the spinning death trap, let him take an extra .5 seconds. jesus. i called him a prick, but i don't think he heard me, so now i'm calling him a prick on the internet. prick.
and finally, why is there a fox news truck outside of my office?
coming out of the subway in the city i was behind an old dude in a suit who was moving a little slowly. normally slow people make me want to breathe fire (or throw rocks), but this guy was obviously moving as fast as he could. as we are going through those totally moronic relvolving-door-exits from the subway, the guy behind me starts pushing it really fast, clipping the old dude as he was trying to emerge from the cage. seriously, what's the point of doing that? poor dude is just trying to make it out of the spinning death trap, let him take an extra .5 seconds. jesus. i called him a prick, but i don't think he heard me, so now i'm calling him a prick on the internet. prick.
and finally, why is there a fox news truck outside of my office?
anderson cooper for president
hey, you know what's funny? Anderson Cooper cut his vacation short -- in Croatia -- and made it to Louisiana before the storm hit. Curious. W. couldn't even make it there from like two states away. veeery curious.
12 September 2005
it's all over now, baby blue
I arrived for our first day of trial at 10 am...security was a nightmare, this is clearly the most popular time for people to show up at the courthouse. I had to bring my phone with me as well, which meant another go round of voucher table joy. Whilst in line for the VT, the women directly behind me and I discussed the myriad ways the whole operation could be improved and decided that someone must have gone out of his or her way to make it as difficult as possible.
There is a lot of waiting on JD, but today it was filled with anticipation. What would it be like to be a juror on my first case? Would the prosecuting attorney wear another terrible suit? Would the judge be sassy but fair, like Judge Judy?
But the waiting would go on. One by one, other jurors' cases were called and they went off to courtrooms to be part of the American Justice System. But my fellow jurors and I remained in room 305 (which, incidentally, is where I will be attending my very own lawsuit on Monday), reading our books, magazines and newspapers, feeling like the last puppy in the box.
1045. Finally we are called. A no-nonsense baliff does roll call "I need you to answer me verbally, 'cause I ain't lookin' up".
1046. Almost immediately after we all dutifully say "here", the two lawyers on the case are whispering and I hear the words "conflict of interest" and "reassigned" coming out of their mumblings.
1047. We are all directed 180 degrees and sit back down in 305 again.
1100. We are called again, a new baliff does roll call, she seems to know we are all a little confused, but doesn't know what to tell us.
She takes us up to the courtroom, or through the courtroom to the jury room. Sartre has been here. There are eight chairs for eight people, a table and an easel which blocks one of the chairs (mine) from pulling out more than 3 inches from the table. We spend the next 2 hours holed up in this room, ostensibly waiting for the trial to begin.
Finally we go out into the courtroom and stand in front of our jury chairs. The judge (who is, in fact, sassy) comes out and informs us that the trial will not be going forward because of one convoluted reason or another, but reminds us that we are all very important, and we should be proud of ourselves for being there.
we are dismissed. I am crushed...but I know that I will be back in court on Monday for our lawsuit, so 141 Livingston has not seen the last of me.
There is a lot of waiting on JD, but today it was filled with anticipation. What would it be like to be a juror on my first case? Would the prosecuting attorney wear another terrible suit? Would the judge be sassy but fair, like Judge Judy?
But the waiting would go on. One by one, other jurors' cases were called and they went off to courtrooms to be part of the American Justice System. But my fellow jurors and I remained in room 305 (which, incidentally, is where I will be attending my very own lawsuit on Monday), reading our books, magazines and newspapers, feeling like the last puppy in the box.
1045. Finally we are called. A no-nonsense baliff does roll call "I need you to answer me verbally, 'cause I ain't lookin' up".
1046. Almost immediately after we all dutifully say "here", the two lawyers on the case are whispering and I hear the words "conflict of interest" and "reassigned" coming out of their mumblings.
1047. We are all directed 180 degrees and sit back down in 305 again.
1100. We are called again, a new baliff does roll call, she seems to know we are all a little confused, but doesn't know what to tell us.
She takes us up to the courtroom, or through the courtroom to the jury room. Sartre has been here. There are eight chairs for eight people, a table and an easel which blocks one of the chairs (mine) from pulling out more than 3 inches from the table. We spend the next 2 hours holed up in this room, ostensibly waiting for the trial to begin.
Finally we go out into the courtroom and stand in front of our jury chairs. The judge (who is, in fact, sassy) comes out and informs us that the trial will not be going forward because of one convoluted reason or another, but reminds us that we are all very important, and we should be proud of ourselves for being there.
we are dismissed. I am crushed...but I know that I will be back in court on Monday for our lawsuit, so 141 Livingston has not seen the last of me.
happiness is all the rage
Day 2 of Jury Duty (thursday)
1155. arrive, go through security, who are talking about new condos going up ($2.5 Million!?!?). It seems they are sprucing things up in the jury room, putting bunting round the table to mask all the boxes.
1215. do do do.
1235. dismissed. how can i do this professionally?
1155. arrive, go through security, who are talking about new condos going up ($2.5 Million!?!?). It seems they are sprucing things up in the jury room, putting bunting round the table to mask all the boxes.
1215. do do do.
1235. dismissed. how can i do this professionally?
09 September 2005
or, how i learned to love jury duty
When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one person to make a phone call the night before, and to assume among the Powers of Earth, the separate and equal Station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them (assuming you're registered to vote), a decent Respect to the Opinions of Mankind requires that they should go to the state or federal courthouse and declare the causes which impel them to the Jury Duty.
At first, I was annoyed. "Fuck. Jury Duty? Again?" I'd been summoned twice in Georgia, both times escaping any real responsibility. And I knew this was coming; I'd gotten that stupid survey a month or so ago. But just before my standby date, I realized, "waiiiiiit a minute, if I'm at Jury Duty, I’m not at work!" Thus, I fell in love with the American justice system.
"At this time, we are asking all jurors to report." The words fell into my straining ears like the name of an 8-year-old’s school being read off the snow day list. Hurrah! No work tomorrow.
Since it was Brooklyn Civil Court (a place with which I am well familiar) to which I was summoned, I came readily prepared to beat the bureaucracy. I breezed through security. I'd left my cameraphone at home so as to avoid another nasty run-in with the voucher table; as I passed it, I directed a knowing smile at the confused standers-in-line.
I managed to get in a lift with working light-up buttons, and disembarked on the cheerful 3rd floor. Lots of signs directed people to various places, and I followed mine to the Jury room.
For some reason, everyone had chosen to sit at the back of the room, perhaps never getting past that elementary school idea that the cool kids sat in the back. Having never been a cool kid, I took a seat in the center.
Clearly someone was concerned about how enjoyable our JD experience would be -- there were plenty of pretty comfortable chairs, two (!) vending machines (one of which provided me with a bag of chocolate Teddy Grahams) and a library, although that consisted mostly of O Magazine, Jet, Good Housekeeping and, of course, tons of crime novels.
Right below the small TV which would soon show us one of the strangest pieces of film ever put together, was a sign which read:
"We are trying to make our juror facilities as comfortable as possible.
If you are experiencing a problem (i.e., broken pay phones, untidy restrooms, etc...)
Please notify the jury clerk or call 1800nyjuror"
and to be honest, the only thing I considered calling 1800nyjuror about was to tell them that I think they meant "e.g." instead of "i.e."
The video about Jury Duty is surely one of the mysteries of the Universe. It begins like an episode of “Secrets of the Dead”, with men in hoods, clearly from hundreds of years ago, savagely marching through a forest. They had bloodlust in their eyes…Then a guy who looks a whole helluva lot like Ed Bradley comes on and starts talking about Trial by Ordeal, and how nutty it is. In case “Ed’s” description isn’t enough to convince us, the video cuts to a shot of a guy being bound and thrown into a lake, horrified eyes bulging, mouth inexplicably open. He sinks. Which means he is innocent. And probably dead.
OMFG. It IS Ed Bradley!
People-on-the-street interviews illustrate how jury duty is uncool; various races, sexes and socio-eco backgrounds all agree: no one really likes Jury Duty.
Ed then whisks us away to “400 years before the birth of Christ”, when the ancient Greeks were doing something with justice. Then the Romans, who didn’t have juries. And those crazy Euros, who made a lot of nice stained glass (a lot of which was in this video), but had that whole “trial by ordeal” nonsense. There was some talk about Charlemagne’s group of dudes who told him who was doing what. And then there’s England, where William Penn was found not guilty and the jury were thrown in jail. But it’s all good, because some nitwits settled the US and we don’t put the jurors in jail.
“Every citizen can actually participate in our justice system…and that’s why you are here today”.
Surely it’s over now. No, apparently, it will never be over…A new, female voice introduces a clip from “Perry Mason” and tell us “what a rich source of material our justice system has been for entertainment”. What a rich source, indeed. “Johnny! Don’t!” “I won’t let yeh take the rap for me [dollface]” dun-dun-DUUUN.
The new voice-over reveals herself as Diane Sawyer. And she means business. She wants us to know that it’s not like it looks on TV, everything is not wrapped up in a little package. We have to figure it out for ourselves. She reminds us that if we are excused during the voir dire, “it is in no way a reflection on your intelligence or integrity,” despite the fact that it clearly is.
She reminds us that lawyers will be fluffing up the truth with a sizeable load of bullshit, which she refers to as “the lawyer’s point of view”.
Then she assures us that whatever case we sit on, chances are, we’ll be fascinated! I look around, no one appears either fascinated or ready to become fascinated.
I went back to reading when they started showing pictures of quaint courthouses from all over NY, but perked up again when they started dissing voting, saying when you’re on a jury, you’re one of only a few, whereas when you vote, it doesn’t really matter because you’re one of so many. Jury Duty is trying to out street cred voting.
Finally, it ends.
50 people tear along the dotted lines: “everything except A, C and D is useless garbage”.
Turns out I don’t get 40 bucks because my job still pays me. Bummer.
By 1030 I was on my second Juror questionnaire because I hadn’t pressed hard enough the first time.
1050. nothing
1104. the first group are called in, one of whom’s last name is Tavares. I now have “Heaven Must Be Missing an Angel” stuck in my head.
1205. dismissed for lunch until 2. I go to Barnes & Noble and American Apparel. I watch as a man who has forsaken his trousers and shirt (although they are draped round his neck) for two jackets tied round his waist buy something from an electronics-holster street vendor. That big inflatable rat is outside a building across the street. The weather is beautiful.
200. Due to excessive air con in the room, I sit by the window and scowl at the MTA building across the street.
245. I am to go to seat four in room eight.
350. I am a Juror! I am lazily sworn in. We are to return the following day at 12 noon
405. Gowanus Yacht Club.
you learn something new (about yourself) everyday
according to Expedia, one of my "favorite routes" is Boise to Honolulu.
Round–Trip Air Fares For Your Favorite Routes:
they're so wrong, it's actually honolulu to boise.
Round–Trip Air Fares For Your Favorite Routes:
| Airfare |
| Buffalo (BUF) to San Diego (SAN) | Check prices |
| Boise (BOI) to Honolulu (HNL) | Check prices |
| Boston (BOS) to Rome (FCO) | Check prices | |||
they're so wrong, it's actually honolulu to boise.
japanese backpack fun
i lied, i'm just assuming it's japanese, because they have a stellar record of this kind of silliness, and that's why we love them. on a backpack
Little Sheep:
following me enjoy the time in spring
with you appreciate to read it
little sheep. keep company with you
bathing in the beautiful scenery.
hell yeah, little sheep
Little Sheep:
following me enjoy the time in spring
with you appreciate to read it
little sheep. keep company with you
bathing in the beautiful scenery.
hell yeah, little sheep
06 September 2005
doctors? we don't need no stinkin' doctors
at least not if they're cuban. what the fuck is wrong with these people? take the doctors! they are helpful!!
par for the course
george bush doesn't care about black people
reggae on broadway
so it's a sugar factory
you know what's fucking cool? when you are walking through red hook and you see something and think "i wonder what the hell that is", and then you are riding the netwave a few days later, and curbed ups and tells you! god bless the internets!
this is fantastially creepy
so this worm brainwashes the grasshopper into jumping into water and then wiggles out of its butt. gross.
hairworms release proteins that influence grasshoppers' central nervous systems, thereby affecting chemical signals to the insects' brains
do yourself a favor, see the related video. not safe for lunchtime.
hairworms release proteins that influence grasshoppers' central nervous systems, thereby affecting chemical signals to the insects' brains
do yourself a favor, see the related video. not safe for lunchtime.
i've run out of ways to say "this just keeps getting worse"
a photojournalist and a reporter were confronted at gunpoint and slammed against a wall by police following a shoot-out between looters and cops that left at least one person dead.
apparently, things are so bad there, they don't even want people to know how bad it is...
apparently, things are so bad there, they don't even want people to know how bad it is...
gowanus strikes again
one of my roommates is a teacher, and her summer vaca (yes, i did) came to an end today. it was for this reason, despite all nursing what seemed to be enless hangovers, we went back to do it all over, one last time.
jeff, the waiter, looked slightly scared when we walked in and asked if we were back for another marathon. he then informed my roommate that he'd never seen anyone spend that much time there. she was visibly embarassed, we wanted to give her a medal. we did finally find out that, sadly, gowanus is not a non-profit that donates all its money to charity. it is merely a great place to get wasted on a sunday (or any) afternoon.
the chef's grandmother had died, so there was no food. but there was beer, so everything was gonna be alright. by the end of the night, we'd made friends with the people on either side of us, and made them make friends with each other. i'm pretty sure we divulged some fairly bizarre and intimate secrets to total strangers, but it all seemed to work out ok in the end.
thus ended my end-of-summer bender, probably to make way for my beginning-of-fall bender.
jeff, the waiter, looked slightly scared when we walked in and asked if we were back for another marathon. he then informed my roommate that he'd never seen anyone spend that much time there. she was visibly embarassed, we wanted to give her a medal. we did finally find out that, sadly, gowanus is not a non-profit that donates all its money to charity. it is merely a great place to get wasted on a sunday (or any) afternoon.
the chef's grandmother had died, so there was no food. but there was beer, so everything was gonna be alright. by the end of the night, we'd made friends with the people on either side of us, and made them make friends with each other. i'm pretty sure we divulged some fairly bizarre and intimate secrets to total strangers, but it all seemed to work out ok in the end.
thus ended my end-of-summer bender, probably to make way for my beginning-of-fall bender.
05 September 2005
no sleep in brooklyn
there's nothing as joyous as a long weekend, and i was lucky enough to have friday off as well. about a week ago i started my end-of-summer bender, which was to culminate yesterday in the atlantic avenue drinking triathlon...
obviously thursday was the raging gazpacho night, so i was overjoyed at not having to get up on friday morning. there was much discussion about what to do with such a beautiful day, but in the end we decided on the red hook pool.
needless to say, floating around in a pool in the middle of brooklyn under the shadow of the BQE when it's spectacularly sunny and warm is one of the nicest feelings on this earth.
for reasons i shall never know, the pool closes from 3-4pm, so we decided to just walk around for an hour and return when it reopened...our ramblings unearthed the columbia street esplanade, one of brooklyn's diamonds in the rough. a very strange place indeed, it extends out into the erie basin and affords fantastic views of sunset park, green-wood cemetery and park slope. we located a few familiar places and lamented not having cameras. the very end of the esplanade makes a right turn which directs the viewer toward staten island. there are views of downtown manhattan and other parts of red hook, but the williamsburgh bank building was the star, as it rose gloriously out of atlantic avenue against a super-sweet blue sky.
the breeze swept by us, carrying the aroma of the sea. we noted how much cleaner the water looked when it was even slightly distanced from the gowanus canal. although the esplanade lacks a certain "romantic" quality, there are about a gazillion benches along its brooklyn-facing side. i'm not sure if the total number of people to ever visit the esplanade could fill all these benches.
by the time we'd traversed the entirety of the esplanade and returned to the pool, we were no longer really interested in it. so we walked back, passing three of the most junked out kids i'd ever been in such close proximity with, and a chocolate factory at the north end of smith street. our plan to hit the taco bell was thwarted as it's now turned into a dunkin' donuts/pizza hut/taco bell; and only the dunkin' donuts was operational.
saturday a friend's block was doing what blocks do best, having a block party. the hydrant was already opened when we showed up, and various grills were smoking.
by the end there were two bottles of wine in my stomach, along with various bits of charred flesh (all of which were scrumptious). some friendly neighbors had involved everyone in two (we liked it so much they played it again for us) rounds of the "cha cha slide" and we repaid them with other latin-ish dancing by white kids.
perhaps in a nod to the upcoming school year, we engaged in various "field day" games...'toss the water balloon', 'pass the orange' and 'run around drunk with an egg on a spoon'. there are fewer things as funny as two of your male friends grinding away at each other trying to move an orange up from their stomachs back to their necks. at least two of us were on the ground weeping with laughter.
and as things wound down someone, somehow, finally managed to get "willy wonka and the chocolate factory" projected onto my friend's house. so, under the three stars brooklyn allowed that night we sat, watching a movie on a friend's house; water from the fire hydrant still streaming down the street, cher still blasting from the house a few doors down.
and then, because it was on the way home, we went to buttermilk.
the triathlon started at 3. i awoke and discovered that we'd come home and watched Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle, and apparently i'd dumped popcorn all over the couch and managed to make scrambled eggs for three people. i very vaguely recollect all of this. although i do remember singing along with the "Hold On" scene in H&K and then trying to convince everyone that we needed to watch Tommy Boy because that scene is a clear rip off of the "Eres Tu" sing along.
regardless, i was pretty fucking hungover. luckily, i'd planned in advance for this type of thing, and had arranged to brunch at the chip shop on atlantic with a friend and fellow triathlete. there are few things that can attack and destroy a hangover like a fry up, but despite a valiant effort, my head continued to be fuzzy the remainder of the day.
the whole point of this trialthon thing is to drink all afternoon whilst participating in "skill-shot" games. although we all had vague ideas what a skill-shot game might be, no one was entirely sure. turned out that at bocce, they would place the pallino and we'd all sort of aim for it. (four balls each.) darts would be a game of 'baseball', in which you have three darts and you are encouraged to hit one number at a time (through nine innings), there were extra points awarded for those little red and green boxes. pool was a little different, they "racked 'em and cracked 'em" (anything that happened to go in worked in your favor, i think), and then we hit as many balls in as we could without missing. extra points were always available if you were willing to take a shot, and many of my brave teammates took quite a few shots. i, my liver cowering in fear, took none.
we started off at floyd for bocce. normally this is my strong suit, and the only event i'd even thought about hoping to be truly competitive in, but i managed to completely fuck it up. it was all good, though, because they had brooklyn pennant ale.
next was brazen head for darts. i've had amazing nights of darts here & there, but this was not to be one of them. i got 2 points, 1 for the 1 dart i threw in the right place and 1 for the blue moon belgian white beer i was drinking.
things were a bit confusing when i walked out of brazen head into the dazzling atlantic avenue sunlight-slightly hungover and slightly drunk. luckily, we had a tour guide taking us from bar to bar...he lead us to magnetic field, where my next loss would be at pool.
i think i got two in, maybe one. i don't really remember, because by the time we got to that point my brain had totally fallen asleep on me. every conversation i had became more and more confusing and difficult, as i simply could not process a single thought. i was having so much fun i couldn't think of leaving, but i was clearly in no state to talk to people.
despite my draining energy and social skills, somewhere during the playoff round (which i was so obviously not a part of), i snuck off to american apparel and purchased myself a pink ringer, because i was so fucking cold. and also pizza.
we decided to head back to floyd after it was all over and play more bocce. and drink more brooklyn pennant.
obviously thursday was the raging gazpacho night, so i was overjoyed at not having to get up on friday morning. there was much discussion about what to do with such a beautiful day, but in the end we decided on the red hook pool.
needless to say, floating around in a pool in the middle of brooklyn under the shadow of the BQE when it's spectacularly sunny and warm is one of the nicest feelings on this earth.
for reasons i shall never know, the pool closes from 3-4pm, so we decided to just walk around for an hour and return when it reopened...our ramblings unearthed the columbia street esplanade, one of brooklyn's diamonds in the rough. a very strange place indeed, it extends out into the erie basin and affords fantastic views of sunset park, green-wood cemetery and park slope. we located a few familiar places and lamented not having cameras. the very end of the esplanade makes a right turn which directs the viewer toward staten island. there are views of downtown manhattan and other parts of red hook, but the williamsburgh bank building was the star, as it rose gloriously out of atlantic avenue against a super-sweet blue sky.
the breeze swept by us, carrying the aroma of the sea. we noted how much cleaner the water looked when it was even slightly distanced from the gowanus canal. although the esplanade lacks a certain "romantic" quality, there are about a gazillion benches along its brooklyn-facing side. i'm not sure if the total number of people to ever visit the esplanade could fill all these benches.
by the time we'd traversed the entirety of the esplanade and returned to the pool, we were no longer really interested in it. so we walked back, passing three of the most junked out kids i'd ever been in such close proximity with, and a chocolate factory at the north end of smith street. our plan to hit the taco bell was thwarted as it's now turned into a dunkin' donuts/pizza hut/taco bell; and only the dunkin' donuts was operational.
saturday a friend's block was doing what blocks do best, having a block party. the hydrant was already opened when we showed up, and various grills were smoking.
by the end there were two bottles of wine in my stomach, along with various bits of charred flesh (all of which were scrumptious). some friendly neighbors had involved everyone in two (we liked it so much they played it again for us) rounds of the "cha cha slide" and we repaid them with other latin-ish dancing by white kids.
perhaps in a nod to the upcoming school year, we engaged in various "field day" games...'toss the water balloon', 'pass the orange' and 'run around drunk with an egg on a spoon'. there are fewer things as funny as two of your male friends grinding away at each other trying to move an orange up from their stomachs back to their necks. at least two of us were on the ground weeping with laughter.
and as things wound down someone, somehow, finally managed to get "willy wonka and the chocolate factory" projected onto my friend's house. so, under the three stars brooklyn allowed that night we sat, watching a movie on a friend's house; water from the fire hydrant still streaming down the street, cher still blasting from the house a few doors down.
and then, because it was on the way home, we went to buttermilk.
the triathlon started at 3. i awoke and discovered that we'd come home and watched Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle, and apparently i'd dumped popcorn all over the couch and managed to make scrambled eggs for three people. i very vaguely recollect all of this. although i do remember singing along with the "Hold On" scene in H&K and then trying to convince everyone that we needed to watch Tommy Boy because that scene is a clear rip off of the "Eres Tu" sing along.
regardless, i was pretty fucking hungover. luckily, i'd planned in advance for this type of thing, and had arranged to brunch at the chip shop on atlantic with a friend and fellow triathlete. there are few things that can attack and destroy a hangover like a fry up, but despite a valiant effort, my head continued to be fuzzy the remainder of the day.
the whole point of this trialthon thing is to drink all afternoon whilst participating in "skill-shot" games. although we all had vague ideas what a skill-shot game might be, no one was entirely sure. turned out that at bocce, they would place the pallino and we'd all sort of aim for it. (four balls each.) darts would be a game of 'baseball', in which you have three darts and you are encouraged to hit one number at a time (through nine innings), there were extra points awarded for those little red and green boxes. pool was a little different, they "racked 'em and cracked 'em" (anything that happened to go in worked in your favor, i think), and then we hit as many balls in as we could without missing. extra points were always available if you were willing to take a shot, and many of my brave teammates took quite a few shots. i, my liver cowering in fear, took none.
we started off at floyd for bocce. normally this is my strong suit, and the only event i'd even thought about hoping to be truly competitive in, but i managed to completely fuck it up. it was all good, though, because they had brooklyn pennant ale.
next was brazen head for darts. i've had amazing nights of darts here & there, but this was not to be one of them. i got 2 points, 1 for the 1 dart i threw in the right place and 1 for the blue moon belgian white beer i was drinking.
things were a bit confusing when i walked out of brazen head into the dazzling atlantic avenue sunlight-slightly hungover and slightly drunk. luckily, we had a tour guide taking us from bar to bar...he lead us to magnetic field, where my next loss would be at pool.
i think i got two in, maybe one. i don't really remember, because by the time we got to that point my brain had totally fallen asleep on me. every conversation i had became more and more confusing and difficult, as i simply could not process a single thought. i was having so much fun i couldn't think of leaving, but i was clearly in no state to talk to people.
despite my draining energy and social skills, somewhere during the playoff round (which i was so obviously not a part of), i snuck off to american apparel and purchased myself a pink ringer, because i was so fucking cold. and also pizza.
we decided to head back to floyd after it was all over and play more bocce. and drink more brooklyn pennant.
02 September 2005
magical, out from blown speakers
i am off work today. and i'm finding it more than a little troubling that it's 10 am and i'm sitting in my apartment doing this. i should still be asleep or at the park or doing my laundry or going to the gym, but i just woke up, and i'm not sure i might not go back to bed sometime in the near future, so here i am. i think they're gonna send me my 'welcome to nerddom' pack pretty soon.
gazpacho has always been a summer tradition in my family. and my mom has always made it very well. this year i called her ass up and said, "moms, i'm gonna need the 'zpach recipe, cause i'm jonesin'" and so she gave it me and i made it a few weeks ago, and it was pretty damn tasty.
so during my marathon drinking last friday, i announced bravely (and drunkly): "it's gazpacho night at my house on thursday. be there!!" and the people looked at me a little funny, but then they rejoiced.
i woke up saturday with the realization that i'd invited an unknown number of people (some of whom i'd just met) to my house for gazpacho that thursday.
luckily, the greenmarket in prospect park was on that day, so i dragged some mates and bought many tomatoes, some cukes, peppers, etc. fresh from the farms of new york and new jersey. so i made two blenders-full of the 'zpach, sent out an email invite (not to be confused with the more formal and classier (?) e-vite) and told my roommate to tell her friends who were at GYC with us to come by for some cold tomato soup and some alcohol (because alcohol makes everything sound more enticing).
by yesterday morning, it was looking like about 12 people were going to show up; and, as is my nature, i began to get a little concerned. i wondered if i'd inadverntantly 'overbooked the flight' and there wasn't going to be enough to feed everyone. suddenly the gigantic vat of gazpacho in my refidgerator was shrinking in my mind--"oh, my god, that's never gonna be enough for all those people, fuck". i began to pray that people would take me up on the "bring some stuff if you like" part of the invitation. i had visions of everyone getting a shot-glass full of gazpacho and me just standing there with a sheepish look on my face, ladle in hand.
so i told a few of my close friends, who would be chill about the fact that i may or may not have invited them over for a meal i wouldn't be able to provide, "look, i didn't plan this too well, so there might not actually be enough gazpacho for everyone...but there will be margaritas and beer. that i guarantee."
but a lot of people brought other food, all of which was yummy and summery and ended up creating a pretty impressive spread. we had a nice tray of tomato, basil and mozzarella; some pesto pasta salad; a jug of sangria; lots of chips and guacamole; and as was my own fault (i'd confessed to one trusted friend "bring a shitload of bread, because i don't have enough food to feed these geezers") a shitload of bread and cheese.
as people showed up i got the requisite, "i thought you said there wasn't going to be enough" as they saw the rather large bowl sitting on the table and i said, "i panicked, have a drink". someone brought brooklyn pennant ale (which fit very well into my "summer's almost over, time to drink all the delicious seasonal brew i can find before it's pumkin ale time" plan), and my roommate made 'ritas (which was like couples therapy for me and my long-estranged partner (although there was still the occasional night of passion), tequila), the aforementioned sangria arrived--fruit and all--to everyone's immense pleasure. and it turns out that two blenders full of gazpacho is well enough to feed however many people actually did end up coming...i forgot to count.
gazpacho has always been a summer tradition in my family. and my mom has always made it very well. this year i called her ass up and said, "moms, i'm gonna need the 'zpach recipe, cause i'm jonesin'" and so she gave it me and i made it a few weeks ago, and it was pretty damn tasty.
so during my marathon drinking last friday, i announced bravely (and drunkly): "it's gazpacho night at my house on thursday. be there!!" and the people looked at me a little funny, but then they rejoiced.
i woke up saturday with the realization that i'd invited an unknown number of people (some of whom i'd just met) to my house for gazpacho that thursday.
luckily, the greenmarket in prospect park was on that day, so i dragged some mates and bought many tomatoes, some cukes, peppers, etc. fresh from the farms of new york and new jersey. so i made two blenders-full of the 'zpach, sent out an email invite (not to be confused with the more formal and classier (?) e-vite) and told my roommate to tell her friends who were at GYC with us to come by for some cold tomato soup and some alcohol (because alcohol makes everything sound more enticing).
by yesterday morning, it was looking like about 12 people were going to show up; and, as is my nature, i began to get a little concerned. i wondered if i'd inadverntantly 'overbooked the flight' and there wasn't going to be enough to feed everyone. suddenly the gigantic vat of gazpacho in my refidgerator was shrinking in my mind--"oh, my god, that's never gonna be enough for all those people, fuck". i began to pray that people would take me up on the "bring some stuff if you like" part of the invitation. i had visions of everyone getting a shot-glass full of gazpacho and me just standing there with a sheepish look on my face, ladle in hand.
so i told a few of my close friends, who would be chill about the fact that i may or may not have invited them over for a meal i wouldn't be able to provide, "look, i didn't plan this too well, so there might not actually be enough gazpacho for everyone...but there will be margaritas and beer. that i guarantee."
but a lot of people brought other food, all of which was yummy and summery and ended up creating a pretty impressive spread. we had a nice tray of tomato, basil and mozzarella; some pesto pasta salad; a jug of sangria; lots of chips and guacamole; and as was my own fault (i'd confessed to one trusted friend "bring a shitload of bread, because i don't have enough food to feed these geezers") a shitload of bread and cheese.
as people showed up i got the requisite, "i thought you said there wasn't going to be enough" as they saw the rather large bowl sitting on the table and i said, "i panicked, have a drink". someone brought brooklyn pennant ale (which fit very well into my "summer's almost over, time to drink all the delicious seasonal brew i can find before it's pumkin ale time" plan), and my roommate made 'ritas (which was like couples therapy for me and my long-estranged partner (although there was still the occasional night of passion), tequila), the aforementioned sangria arrived--fruit and all--to everyone's immense pleasure. and it turns out that two blenders full of gazpacho is well enough to feed however many people actually did end up coming...i forgot to count.
01 September 2005
this is horrible. now they've had to call off rescue missions because of the conditions. it seems that some people are attacking people in boats. and shit's gettin' nasty at the superdome, too:
Huge crowds, hoping to finally escape the stifling confines of the stadium, jammed the main concourse outside the dome, spilling out over the ramp to the Hyatt hotel next door -- a seething sea of tense, unhappy, people packed shoulder-to-shoulder up to the barricades where heavily armed National Guardsmen stood.
Fights broke out. A fire erupted in a trash chute inside the dome, but a National Guard commander said it did not affect the evacuation.
sounds like a nightmare. here are some places to send your cash..
www.redcross.org
www.salvationarmyusa.org
www.americares.org
www.nvoad.org
www.fema.gov
Huge crowds, hoping to finally escape the stifling confines of the stadium, jammed the main concourse outside the dome, spilling out over the ramp to the Hyatt hotel next door -- a seething sea of tense, unhappy, people packed shoulder-to-shoulder up to the barricades where heavily armed National Guardsmen stood.
Fights broke out. A fire erupted in a trash chute inside the dome, but a National Guard commander said it did not affect the evacuation.
sounds like a nightmare. here are some places to send your cash..
www.redcross.org
www.salvationarmyusa.org
www.americares.org
www.nvoad.org
www.fema.gov
i heart BK
this morning was undeniably brilliant here in NYC--the humidity finally broke, the autumn wind is flowing in, the sky is blue (with only the slightest bit of gray smogginess at the horizon) and i was not hungover! and it was made all the better by my first sighting in quite some time of the brooklyn parrots, they swooped past my bathroom window as i was brushing my teeth, their bright green plumage whizzing through the crystal clear blue sky. ahhh.
and me, i ain't never gonna understand...
last night, i went to the joemca & poets show at mercury lounge. it was their first gig with their new drummer, Alec. boy is mad talented and pretty nice, to boot. the poets put on a lovely, swirling show as usual. and hannah treated us to a nice interpretive mime of "paralyzing woman", which was very funny. joemca took some time out to express his love for cheese, which is always appreciated by me, because i love cheese, too. over all a very good show, and even though i miss a lot of the computer-generated beats of yesteryear, there is so much more energy and crispness to the set now.
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