Stalactite in my apt!

My face wash has a stalactite growing from it! The ones that grow from the ground are called stalagmites (hence the "g" for "ground"). Perhaps "c" is for ceiling. Who knows.

Walk Rage

I don't drive anymore for multiple reasons including
1. little brother stole my car which apparently was always "ours", but now my parents use the pronoun "his" when referring to it
2. I think my license is expired
3. Road signs aren't color coded according to route (a la 1,2,3, Central, Jubilee)

But when I did, I often experienced road rage (hard to believe, I know:-); when some one cuts you off (in your own lane!) or accelerate so you can't bleed into theirs.

Now, when I leave the station to walk home a flood of workers eager to follow my lead pour past me. And they make for a very unnerving experience of what I dub - Walk Rage. I get pissy at all the people in my way. Packs of middle schoolers walking to the Sea Port trudge slowly, tourists block traffic in both directions as they look for Broadway, and commuters push towards my station's three pathetic turnstiles (& bitchy afternoon MTA employee - the early morning shift woman is VERY nice).

I know I'm sounding selfish but honestly, they're all just in my way. And the African men just trying to make a buck selling nick-nacks on stall tables are not helping the traffic overflow at all, their damn tables take up like 1/2 the side walk in an area already suffering from construction. It's such a bother.

Vegan Update: I ate turkey last night at Alex's house b/c we were celebrating Thanksgiving. I couldn't resist, him grandma Leslie and mom made the best food, and his dad is the greatest dark meat carver of Brooklyn. If that's even a title. Also, my soy mango ice cream rocks.

Ow.

My head really hurts and I've had the worst day. Quite possibly of my whole life.

Also, I over heard a person today who was "back stabbing" me as the Mean Girls would say. Honestly, there are such idiots in NYC - a tip: if you're going to talk about someone, make sure they aren't in your ear shot.

I also have officially decided that jouranlism students are the most useless bunch of people. ALL they do is talk about the ethics of journalism in a circle of conversation that spirals on an on. Also, in this web 2.0 world we don't need half as many of them - we have bloggers (not me, professional ones) who report important information that can be read in minutes, not the next morning. I also don't like how important they think they are, like, fighting for this crazy ass noble cause when in fact they all work for biased media entities anyways.

Regina Spektor!

Me and Avi went to see Regina Spektor last night at Hammerstein Ballroom. She was amazing, and the attached clip (taken with my uber high tech 1.3 mega pix cell phone) of Hotel Song doesn't do her any justice; there was a guy beet boxing during this 1 song. Otherwise, it was only her on stage, and she played the piano/tambourine/drum/combo of 2 for most of the show. And she wore a beautiful gold glimmery baby doll dress I wish 1) I owned 2) had somewhere to wear it to. I apologize for my singing in the clip's background, which is funny to hear because really Avi was singing along most of the time.

Afterwards, we went of to the SMX Social Media conference's hotel bar across from Penn Station for some drinks and socializing.

Organic Me

The point of me leaving my hole in the sky was to go grocery shopping. For I have a new mission after reading a book called The Skinny Bitch - no more meat or dairy. Some would call this vegan, but that sounds so stuffy and all natural and quite frankly, I don't have the patience for those hippies & their all natural philosophies. I just don't want to see any more animals get killed off on my dime or abused. Hence, I am kicking "rotting flesh" as the book calls it, out of my diet. I even gave Steeners the rest of my skim milk and Life Cinnamon cerial. I purchased all organic, whole grain, and soy products. And yes, it was as much fun shopping for them as it was stacking them for this photo. I was surprised at how hard it is to find organic jam - but this one is in a berry blend, very excited to try it. I was struck with the variety of Amy's Kitchen organic products - i bought five cans of soups and chilli (vegetarian, of course) - any they're kind of expensive at $3/pop. And I didn't manage to get my tofu into the picture but it's sleeping in my fridge tonight, two chunks of it for $1. I like tofu, but have never cooked it myself (exciting thigns to look forward to this week).

You will note the erm, center piece is ah hem....an ice cream of sorts. I am most skeptical of this product, don't know what to make out of it yet - but will get back to you. Historically, i have a huge downfall for my amigos Ben and Jerry.

One funny thing was the Luna Bar, which (if you can see in the pic, top half of yellow circle) is 70% organic. WTF? So 30% of it isn't organic? But almost the entire ingredients section rants on with an "organic" in front of everything (organic toasted oats, organic soy flour). I don't get it.

And I don't care if their log line is "The Whole Nutrition Bar for Women", with the for in italics; these guys taste great and I recommend them to all. Especially because they have a little layer of icing on the top made from soy butter (how do they do that?). Be ware - the yummy Lemon Zest flavor in a bright yellow wrapping can easily be confused with the nasty tasting Dulce Leche in a mustard yellow wrapping.

Indians, those Crazy Party People

I've occasionally thought "damn, i wish i was a minority of some sort". In high school the running joke was that i was asian b/c my best friend is (shout out to Rita!), but I look very, very white. But I don't want to be Asian - I want to be South East Asian b/c when i walked out of my apartment and over to Water Street this evening - there was a 3 block long crazy-ass indian fest.

Tons of loud music (I'd been hearing it all day) and a DJ saying things like "Where are my Punjabi's at?" The food was to die for (reason 1) - my grandma makes a dish called "Mexican Holiday" with frito chips covered in beef baked beans & vegies; I had "Indian Holiday" tonight - and it was all vegetarian (reason 2)! Something like sweat potatoes over a mashed up fritter of some sort, with a white custard sauce, a thin brown sauce, and little crunchy bits on top. Plus, as we all know from Bollywood movies (reason 3) & weddings, they love to party (reason 4).

Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers

I'm doing "research" for my Mogul's of the 20th Century class. Me and Drew used to watch these Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers when we were little. Every time Dad would come back from America he would bring us one. I forget the title, but my favorite one (there are 10) took place on a cruise liner.

Aww...Le Petit Puppy

Here is a little guy I saw in Le Petit Puppy on Christopher St near 6th Ave. I used to walk by it everyday on my way to class when I lived in the West Village (it usually made me late for class). Cutest part was that he was scarred to walk in the paper shavings (white glow on bottom of photo) and kept looking down at in nervously, then over to his food bowl with this inkling of hope in his eyes.

My Barnes & Nobles Library

I enjoy reading new books, the smell of the pages and the glossy covers. But my library never has these available. I want the NY Times best sellers, Oprah's newest book club book (yes, I admit it!), or some trendy little book - and 9 out of 10 times, I have to go to Barnes and Nobles, the popular bookstore chain, and purchase it.

But I have a new system! I purchase the book, make sure it's kept in perfect condition as a I read it (no sweaty fingers to bend the pages, no liquids near by), and then return it when I'm done! I am then given a gift card with the book's $ value on it, and go looking for another book.

Of course, not all books cost the same, so my gift card with a couple bux on it does fluctuate. I think of it as my library card.

Words to the Wise:
1. Magazines are non-refundable.
2. Use the receipt as your bookmark, that way you won't loose it and don't have to make an effort to find it when returning the book.
3. Try to spread out your returns among many B&N locations, so cashiers don't catch on to your scheme.

Take Your Shit & Sell It In the Hood!

LEFT: Steeners holds up a pair of XXL elastic running shorts, practically a sin. Look at the fear in her eyes.

Yesterday me and my roommate Steeners went to Target on Atlantic Avenue. We figured the place would be less ransacked on a Friday than on Sundays.

Among the required shopping (a new pot for Ed, toilet bowl brush) was new sheets for Steeners's bed. Once locating the bedding section, a near 7ft tall man walked by me yelling "Am RICH! Am so RICH!" holding a duvet on his shoulder like it were a trophy. I did one of those little snort laughs to myself and thought "you're buying a duvet in a Target man - rich people don't do 200 thread counts."

We began sheet browsing when the man came up behind Steeners and said something about how she was a fine piece of meat (honestly, I forget the exact words). Now, in NYC men hoot and holler quite a bit(I seem to be a black and hispanic favorite), this is nothing new - but when it's done in a store, and the man just stops walking and stares at my friend, I find it quite offensive.

Out from the pillow case aisle I popped and walked up to him and simply said "fuck off."

On reflection, I'm not sure this was the best thing I could have done. He looked at me and said "you don't haf to be jealous cause I wasn't lookin at choo." Obviously, he had nailed the issue on the head, I was crushed he hadn't been looking at me. But that aside, crazy man shopping in his work out clothes went on this long ass rant.

Me and Steeners turned and returned to browse the twin sheets but he wouldn't stop in this obnoxiously loud voice telling us how he's "really African, I'm from Africa." I think it's great he's proud of his family history but we weren't an interested audience.

But the best line was his exit where he told us "your lucky I'm 40 an nat 20 no mor, because ad wait fow you out-sad and follow you, an then take aawl yo shit and sell it in the hood!"

Brilliant, the last 20 years of his life has knocked enough sense into him to realize robbing people isn't appropriate. Although clearly he hasn't yet realized hollering at women isn't. What would his mother think?

Now I'm trying to remember what it's called when you write dialogue/dialog (both ways are recognized in Webster's Dictionary) the way a person sounds when they speak it. I remember a short story I read about a southern woman, and the authors was this x-slave or something who was apparently the first person to write like that. In the story she had an abusive husband, walked along a dirt road for some reason, and I think she killed her husband with a snake.

Temperatures & NJ

I flew back from London yesterday and a funny thing happened. The pilot said the temperature in Newark, NJ was 27 degrees celsius. Now, I've never really understood the conversions of temperature other than 10 C = 50 F, but I knew something was wrong at 27 C in October.


Walked out of the airport to wait for my ride back to my house (aka mommy) and it was 80 F! In October! I took of my sweater and thought "this is like Florida minus the nasty bugs and old people!"

I took a train back to the city early today and took this picture this morning of my backyard. It looks like this in the middle of July too.

Disney Characters

While celebrating V's birth with a dinner at Dos Caminos (Gramercy), me and a friend of V's noticed something profound. Most Disney movies involve a father daughter pair. The mother is always gone. This is expecially devestating in Bambi (shot dead) - and then that horrible forest fire. Evil step mothers rule in Snow White and Cinderella. Ariel, the little mermaid, has 20 shell clad sisters but never makes a mention of a mother, same for Jasmine from Aladin. Bell of Beauty and the Beast also lacks a mother figure, just a little twirling fat father. Now, Pocahontas the New England indian princess gets a crappy mother - a freaking willow tree named none other than "Mother Willow." Who probably gets cut down by John Smith's amigos anyways after she leaves for the UK.

Now, the The Lion King totally throws my theories out the window - because little Simba (also the name of a revolutionary movement in the French Congo in the 60's; it means Lion in swahili) watches his father die, trying to rescue him no less, and is simultaneiously seperated from his mother (Scar tells him he can't go back).

I'm still waiting for Disney's mother son pair to rule the roost in the son's coming of age experience. He can have a symbolic "Father Pine" to complement Poco's mother (anyone getting the reference, eh? eh?).

Overheard in the office today...

"If we're moving in together, do I really still need to go to date night? I mean, we're living together."