Thursday, April 28, 2005

Listening to Music

Do you remember when you'd go over to your friends house to listen to music? I believe that's what I spent a lot of high school and college doing, "listening to music." I am not 100% sure if kids-these-days still do that, but I hope so.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Miscellaneous Recommendations

  • Jonathan Brittany's coffee Bar & Tea for coffee in the morning. W 3rd between 6th Avenue and MacDougal. I'm making a movie about the dude who works there, but don't tell him yet.

  • A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith. Easily one of the top five books ever written. It's a story about little Francie Nolan, an Irish-American girl who lives in Williamsburg in the early 1900s. They were so poor (How poor were they?!) they were so poor that on Sunday, Francie fought to buy six loaves of stale bread for a nickel which her mother, Kate, used to create three meals a day for a week.

  • Sex in the City - reruns or DVD, doesn't make a difference to me. If you've ever had a conversation with someone (especially of the male persuasion) who tells you s/he can't stand to watch that show, I can almost bet s/he's never watched it. Yes, Sex in the City is about four woman who have loads of sex in Manhattan, but its also a show about New York City through and through. So if you're a New Yorker and you haven't given the show a chance, you oughta. Else you're missing out.

  • Pineapple. It's so good!

Saturday, April 23, 2005

Rockabilly Convention

I was on one of those small planes from Green Bay to Chicago, not a propeller plane or a wee Cessna (death machine) but a small plane, nonetheless. Two seats on one side of the aisle and one seat on the other. Flies at 10,000 feat and takes only 30 minutes kinda small. Sitting in front of me and Mike was a Rockabilly Couple. He: slick back, dyed-black hair, white shoes, denim set & mandatory black shades. Her: Betty page bangs, leopard-print peddle-pushers, matching cherries tattooed on the back of each leg.

Of course, its not strange to see a Rockabilly Couple on an airplane or anywhere for that matter. But across the "aisle" from Mike and I was a lone Rockabilly woman. Betty page bangs, Leopard print bag, denim pedal pushers, and a black purse embroidered with, you guessed it, cherries.

These people didn't acknowledge eachother, and when we deplaned, they went their separate ways, the couple in one direction (Morrissey concert?) the woman in another.

Was it awkward for them? Was there a natural sizing up of one another or was it a mutual, deep-seeded respect for each other?

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Monday, April 18, 2005

Heightened Security

Just back from a quick jaunt to the great state of Wisconsin where Mike and I celebrated me gran's 89th birthday. Wonderful visit, great family times, good ol stories, great weather, all the jazz. And my gran is doing great.

My family stories, however, are likely not why you read my blog. What I have for you today, kids, is what happened to me and Babe on the way to Wisconsin.

We had the pleasure of taking a 6am flight out of Laguardia. Struggling, we got into a cab at 450 - giving us an hour and ten minutes til our flight left. Whatever, it was 6 oclock in the morning! How many people were going to be at LGA? How silly. Poor silly cod. After almost getting into a car accident on 7th Avenue South (and I'm not exaggerating - I literally flew across the backseat of the cab as our wonderful and smart cabdriver veered out of the way as another not so wonderful and not so smart cab driver missed us by mere inches) we were well on our way to LGA. We're sorta running a little bit because its about 525 and you know how security is these days. Heightened. We wait in a long-ass line, get to our gate (Chicago bound plane, departing 6 am) breathe a sigh of relief and I get on the plane. Babe and I weren't sitting together (stupid Orbitz!) so I went on first.

I'm a walking and a walking all the way to the back of the plane looking for 22A. Lo, the plane ends at 21. So, now I'm in the back of the plane with a line of passengers behind me and it is 5:35 A.M. I ask the flight attendant where my seat has run off to and she says "yes but this is American," as I show her the boarding card that I had printed off the WWW. I said, "I know!" She says "no, this is American, and you are on a United plane." Wait. What?

Pushing and shoving my way off the plane, I intercept Mike whose boarding card is accurately being challenged by the flight attendant. Go figure! We had to run back out of security, back into another line, wait for another 20 minutes. Arrived at our gate (Chicago bound plane, departing 6 am) at 6 on the dot, and onto the plane.

But here's the question people. What the F*CK is the point of all this GDAMN heightened security, with its long-ass lines, 20 questions, and strip searches, when I can just waltz onto any damn plane I choose?

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Effing Samosas

The Vegan Dosa-cart guy in Wash Square Parks makes the best GDamn Samosas and mint chutney I have ever had.

Since I might get in trouble for saying that, I'll say this: they are second only to my Dad's. And Jessicurl's.

Try one.

Unfortunate Findings

I've brought so many horrible television programs into my life and the lives of others I can barely ever blame other people for getting me hooked on shows. Yesterday, Babe taught me about a show that I never needed to know about.

There's a new show on MTV -- a network I haven't watched since the mid-nineties, no offense to MTV, I'm just a VH1 fan (Does that mean I'm officially old?) -- called Meet the Barkers. People, please. This show is a reality TV show like the Jessica Simpson one about a newlywed couple except this one features Travis Barker (punk rock drummer from Blink 182) and his wifey who is evidently a former beauty queen.

I don't know what it is about the show - the way he's has this hardcore persona but kisses his wee little baby who has a matching mohawk, or the way... no that's it. There is nothing else. Even though I'm married to a man who is covered in tattoos and I know he is very nice, I still have certain predispositions about punk rockers. Its a tough nut to crack, a hard pill to swallow, that these uber punk boys & girls are actually just regular people who want nice tile work in their kitchens and to not miss their babies first steps.

Anyways, if you watch MTV, you'll likely see this show. I'll be interested to hear what you think.

Monday, April 11, 2005

Legal experts say there is no law...

Thanks to my pal for sending along this hilarious story.

In case you decide not to click the above link, here's the skinny:

Police in Germany are hunting pranksters who have been sticking miniature flag portraits of US President George W. Bush into piles of dog poo in public parks. Josef Oettl, parks administrator for Bayreuth said, "This has been going on for about a year now, and there must be 2,000 to 3,000 piles of excrement that have been claimed during that time." The series of incidents was originally thought to be some sort of protest against the US-led invasion of Iraq. And then when it continued it was thought to be a protest against President George W. Bush's campaign for re-election. But it is still going on and the police say they are completely baffled as to who is to blame. "We have sent out extra patrols to try to catch whoever is doing this in the act," said police spokesman Reiner Kuechler. "But frankly, we don't know what we would do if we caught them red handed." Legal experts say there is no law against using feces as a flag stand and the federal legal experts say there is no law against using feces as a flag stand and the federal constitution is vague on the issue.

You can go check out Made You Think to order your own flags. Being that I live in the dog poo capital of Manhattan (the West Village, that is) I may just have to get some of my very own.


My Blog is broken!

Friday, April 08, 2005


Thank the maker that with my new Windows XP set-up here at the deskjob, my speakers have been restored. Long time I've labored without tunes, with only the sounds of the dump trucks, street sweepers and hollering children from the street outside my window.

But now, friends, I have streaming audio. And you'll never hear the end of it. I can actually feel myself becoming hipper as I rock out at my desk to the lyrical stylings of Modest Mouse, Franz Ferdinand, and Jack Johnson.

One small problem with San Diego's 91x - found on the dial at 91.1 FM and on the world wide web here - is that they play lotsa oldies, as in music from my high school years. Can't get away from Nirvana, Offspring, and Pearl Jam. Luckily, as you know from earlier posts, I'm not looking to get away from Pearl Jam.

In any case, I'm pleased as punch to have music back into my life. Makes the day go by faster - and 91X plays Bob Marley at least once an hour so you can't go wrong with that.

Here's to you, Hillary.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005


Well, I've learned a few things over the years about different kinds of drinking and what they can do to you. For example, cheap wine leaves the drinker with a dull and terrible headache for the rest of the day. Cheap beer leaves the drinker fat and lethargic. Cosmopolitans and martinis often leave the drinker unable to remember what has happened the night before.

But what I have just recently learned is that Margaritas give me bad dreams! It's not that I drink margaritas a lot - and when I have margaritas I don't drink a lot of them - just two. (Okay, maybe three.) So a couple of months ago (when it was still freezing cold, how 'bout that weather, huh?) I had a couple of margaritas and had these horrible nightmares, thankfully I don't remember about what now. Then, yesterday I had a couple of margaritas and last night had this insane dream about not only showing up for a test without studying, but also sitting next to my professor at the table. Who walks in next to my dream, but Nancy! She sits right down at the table with me and the professor - and I start telling her off!!


Now, I'm not going to go so far as to cut margaritas out of my life. I think they are delicious and easy to not go overboard with - being that they are about ten bucks each - but I will say that I've got to figure how to fight the nightmare!

Monday, April 04, 2005


Generally speaking, I'm not a huge dancer. I don't own any copies of Dance Party USA, I don't have big pants ready for raving, and I rarely, if ever, shake it like a Polaroid picture. Until now!

On Friday night I hit up a dance cloob called "Freedom Party" which sounds hokie, maybe?, but was not! What it was, however, was an great dance party with lots (loads, if you're British) of great music, including but not limited to: The White Stripes, Bel Biv Devoe, Queen, and Snoop Doggy Dogg. Awesome.

This place was great, the music was familiar, the dance floor approachable, and the ass smoldering. Rarr.

Want to go? I'll be there every Friday night from now on.

Nickels Worth of Free Advice II

Dear Friends,

Please be advised there are dirty nasty viruses all over the world wide web. You never know when one will come to you and attack your PC. May I suggest that everyone now takes a moment to back up their documents?

Thank you.

Best regards,