TIGHTS!!!
Friday, November 23, 2007
Continental
There's a place off of Union Square called CONTINENTAL that serves 5 shots for $10. They're small shots, but you still can't beat that price anywhere in New York (as far as I know). Furthermore, they're beers are cheap (Yingling $1.50). This is where we ended our night, here's the story of how we got there:
We began the night at Pete's Tavern. Pete's Tavern is known as the oldest tavern in New York City, but it is also known for their holiday decorations. They go nuts with the decorations for every holiday. Unfortunately I am the worst photographer in history, so I only got a few pictures.
We had some beers and Walt had to go up to the Knicks game. Walt, Julianne, Amy, and I took the train up to 34th (which we missed and wound up on 42nd street). On the way to the train I got something in my eye and was very distrot. It felt like someone threw a pinecone in my eye.
As we were walking down to Madison Square Garden, we ran into the people rehersing for the Macy's Day Parade. We didn't watch long, but we watched long enough to see people dancing to Hairspray's "You Can't Stop the Beat." From there we walked down the street to a pub called "Irish O'Blarney Stone's" or something like that.
I expected the place to be really expensive because it was right off 34th street, but it was actually pretty reasonable. We stayed there for a little bit then met with the rest of the people from the Knicks game in Union Square. Amy had to pack, so she went home while Julianne and I found a place with the cheapest drinks around.
We wanted to go to Webster Hall, but apparently they're not open unless there's a show. But this turned out to be ok, because we soon found a place with banner outside that read "5 shots for $10." Sold. This, or course, was CONTINENTAL. We all left for the game/bars after work, so neither Julianne nor I were dressed for the dive-bar-ness of CONTINENTAL. You can tell when smoking was allowed in bars this was the smokiest of them all. It just looked like it should be filled with the smoke of a thousand American Spirit/Pall Mall cigarettes.
They played old-timey Batman episodes on a projection screen. Banana muffins.
We started with 3 shots of vodka and 2 of tequila, chased with a bottle of some beer I can't remember. Of course, the place was cash only (because nothing will make a dive bar lose its credibility faster than accepting cards). I took a shot and everyone from the game arrived, including Mike who has a delightful blog. We took more shots and talked about seeing James Blunt at the Knicks game.
We stuck around for a while, took some more shots, drank some more, and good times and merriment were shared by all. Julianne got a hold of my camera for a while, and insisted that everytime someone takes a picture of me I do a model pose, like it's my thing. Ok, here's the thing: whenever I pose for a picture I look like a giant dork. Candid pictures ALWAYS look better, so I decided to (rather than waving or toothily smiling) to just pose like I'm in the middle of something. Honestly, I'm going to make an effort to not do this anymore, but it's going to be a long road. Here are some pictures that illustrate Julianne's point, which I guess I concede... (but my argument is sound, I think):
"Blah, blah, blah... oh, there's a camera there!"
This is me trying to look like I don't know someone is taking a picture of me while I pull out cigarettes and look at the imaginary bats hovering around my head.
Editorial Note: Upon further review, this is not a good picture and my theory might be in jeopardy.
The following picture is after Julianne told me I do a model pose for every picture, so I said I'd just sit there and do absolutely nothing. She took the picture and still insisted it was a model pose. Maybe I'm just naturally a pretty, pretty man:
After CONTINENTAL we decided to see if the pool hall across the street from Webster Hall was open. It was, but pool table rental was way expensive. So we went home.
Here are some pictures of other people from CONTINENTAL:
Walt, looking dignified in his tie, sweater, and beard set.
Julianne doing what she always does in pictures. Yeah! I so got you.
We began the night at Pete's Tavern. Pete's Tavern is known as the oldest tavern in New York City, but it is also known for their holiday decorations. They go nuts with the decorations for every holiday. Unfortunately I am the worst photographer in history, so I only got a few pictures.
We had some beers and Walt had to go up to the Knicks game. Walt, Julianne, Amy, and I took the train up to 34th (which we missed and wound up on 42nd street). On the way to the train I got something in my eye and was very distrot. It felt like someone threw a pinecone in my eye.
As we were walking down to Madison Square Garden, we ran into the people rehersing for the Macy's Day Parade. We didn't watch long, but we watched long enough to see people dancing to Hairspray's "You Can't Stop the Beat." From there we walked down the street to a pub called "Irish O'Blarney Stone's" or something like that.
I expected the place to be really expensive because it was right off 34th street, but it was actually pretty reasonable. We stayed there for a little bit then met with the rest of the people from the Knicks game in Union Square. Amy had to pack, so she went home while Julianne and I found a place with the cheapest drinks around.
We wanted to go to Webster Hall, but apparently they're not open unless there's a show. But this turned out to be ok, because we soon found a place with banner outside that read "5 shots for $10." Sold. This, or course, was CONTINENTAL. We all left for the game/bars after work, so neither Julianne nor I were dressed for the dive-bar-ness of CONTINENTAL. You can tell when smoking was allowed in bars this was the smokiest of them all. It just looked like it should be filled with the smoke of a thousand American Spirit/Pall Mall cigarettes.
They played old-timey Batman episodes on a projection screen. Banana muffins.
We started with 3 shots of vodka and 2 of tequila, chased with a bottle of some beer I can't remember. Of course, the place was cash only (because nothing will make a dive bar lose its credibility faster than accepting cards). I took a shot and everyone from the game arrived, including Mike who has a delightful blog. We took more shots and talked about seeing James Blunt at the Knicks game.
We stuck around for a while, took some more shots, drank some more, and good times and merriment were shared by all. Julianne got a hold of my camera for a while, and insisted that everytime someone takes a picture of me I do a model pose, like it's my thing. Ok, here's the thing: whenever I pose for a picture I look like a giant dork. Candid pictures ALWAYS look better, so I decided to (rather than waving or toothily smiling) to just pose like I'm in the middle of something. Honestly, I'm going to make an effort to not do this anymore, but it's going to be a long road. Here are some pictures that illustrate Julianne's point, which I guess I concede... (but my argument is sound, I think):
"Blah, blah, blah... oh, there's a camera there!"
This is me trying to look like I don't know someone is taking a picture of me while I pull out cigarettes and look at the imaginary bats hovering around my head.
Editorial Note: Upon further review, this is not a good picture and my theory might be in jeopardy.
The following picture is after Julianne told me I do a model pose for every picture, so I said I'd just sit there and do absolutely nothing. She took the picture and still insisted it was a model pose. Maybe I'm just naturally a pretty, pretty man:
After CONTINENTAL we decided to see if the pool hall across the street from Webster Hall was open. It was, but pool table rental was way expensive. So we went home.
Here are some pictures of other people from CONTINENTAL:
Walt, looking dignified in his tie, sweater, and beard set.
Julianne doing what she always does in pictures. Yeah! I so got you.
Trader Joe's: Union Square
I just went to Trader Joe's with Amy in Union Square. All I have to say is "wow." Trader Joe's was just absolutely in-sane. It was nearly impossible to navigate their tiny carts through all the people. Amy and I didn't realize that the best course of action would be to hit the middle of the store first, then just get in line and shop while we're moving. This was a sound course of action because the line extended THE ENTIRE PERIMETER OF THE STORE! I could only get one picture of the crowd while I was in line because there were a lot of people, and I was nervous, and my main concern was just getting my food and getting the F out of there.
Amazing Picture
This is an amazing picture that Cassie and Adam have in their apartment. I don't know if you can tell from the picture, but it's actually a hologram!
Detective Store
The other day I was going to my Mystery Writing Class (which I'll discuss later when I feel like getting into it), and I saw this store:
Now, what person with three hours to kill wouldn't go into a place like this? I mean honestly. So I walked up to the door and found that it was locked. Inside I could see two men, one was older, relatively non-descript; the other was a young guy with bleach blond hair. The blond guy was wearing all black with black pinstripe pants and one of those zoot-suit chains.
I noticed by the door there was a little sign that said you need to ring the doorbell to be let in. I did, and the shop keep (who looked like Rich Vos) looked confused and buzzed me in.
"Can I help you?" said the man with teeth, white like the sun.
"Oh, no, I was just passing by, had some time to kill," I responded.
"Yeah, that's why I have that sign."
He pointed to a crudely-made sign on the front door that I hadn't noticed that read: "Showing by Appointment Only." And it occured to me that I may have just stumbled into to something very very bad. Suddenly I realized that the guy in the pinstripe pants might not be just some douchebag, private-dick wannabe, but could be (in fact) a Euro-trashy Russian mobster.
"Oh (nervous chuckle, nervous chuckle), sorry about that guys," I said, backing away to the door.
After that all I remember is being handed a business card and walking quickly down the street, far, far away from the place. I walked by a few more times that evening, to see if the guys were still there, they weren't. I thought it might be fun to make an appointment sometime and go in to look at the tools people use to prove that their spouses are cheating on them, but then I realized that I want nothing to do with those guys... nothing at all.
Now, what person with three hours to kill wouldn't go into a place like this? I mean honestly. So I walked up to the door and found that it was locked. Inside I could see two men, one was older, relatively non-descript; the other was a young guy with bleach blond hair. The blond guy was wearing all black with black pinstripe pants and one of those zoot-suit chains.
I noticed by the door there was a little sign that said you need to ring the doorbell to be let in. I did, and the shop keep (who looked like Rich Vos) looked confused and buzzed me in.
"Can I help you?" said the man with teeth, white like the sun.
"Oh, no, I was just passing by, had some time to kill," I responded.
"Yeah, that's why I have that sign."
He pointed to a crudely-made sign on the front door that I hadn't noticed that read: "Showing by Appointment Only." And it occured to me that I may have just stumbled into to something very very bad. Suddenly I realized that the guy in the pinstripe pants might not be just some douchebag, private-dick wannabe, but could be (in fact) a Euro-trashy Russian mobster.
"Oh (nervous chuckle, nervous chuckle), sorry about that guys," I said, backing away to the door.
After that all I remember is being handed a business card and walking quickly down the street, far, far away from the place. I walked by a few more times that evening, to see if the guys were still there, they weren't. I thought it might be fun to make an appointment sometime and go in to look at the tools people use to prove that their spouses are cheating on them, but then I realized that I want nothing to do with those guys... nothing at all.
Old, Dope Apartment
Hey! I just found these pictures of my old apartment from when I was moving out. I like to talk about how great that place was a lot, so I figured I'd put these up. Just for a little perspective, my old bedroom was as big as my current place's living room. Holla!
Living Room (more impressive with furniture):
That green thing you see outside of the window is called a "tree," an evergreen to be precise. They have a lot of those in Washington State, they're very popular there.
Kitchen:
In case you're wondering, that blue box next to the refrigerator is a box of Frosted Flakes... they're great.
Bedroom:
This isn't a very good picture of the bedroom, but to the left is a 14 foot long wall with a closet that extends the entire length. It was great, but made it look like I owned four shirts total.
That's about it. I don't know why I felt compelled to put this up. I guess the Law & Order marathon I'm watching isn't keeping my attention like it was four hours ago.
Living Room (more impressive with furniture):
That green thing you see outside of the window is called a "tree," an evergreen to be precise. They have a lot of those in Washington State, they're very popular there.
Kitchen:
In case you're wondering, that blue box next to the refrigerator is a box of Frosted Flakes... they're great.
Bedroom:
This isn't a very good picture of the bedroom, but to the left is a 14 foot long wall with a closet that extends the entire length. It was great, but made it look like I owned four shirts total.
That's about it. I don't know why I felt compelled to put this up. I guess the Law & Order marathon I'm watching isn't keeping my attention like it was four hours ago.
Female Douchebag?
Is there a term that is equal to "douchebag" for women? I mean, we all know the typically douchebag guys (Nick Lachey, most guys from Staten Island, etc.), but what do you call those white chicks who throw up gang signs in every picture (for example)? Anyone?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Gobble, Gobble...
I left work early today and decided to start my Thanksgiving early. Tonight I'm going to watch "A Shot At Love with Tila Tequila," then "Project Runway," and then I'll go to bed.
Have a great Thanksgiving everybody!
Get it... Turkey, it's a picture of the country Turkey, not the traditional Thanksgiving bird. Hahaha! Happy Thanksgiving!
Have a great Thanksgiving everybody!
Get it... Turkey, it's a picture of the country Turkey, not the traditional Thanksgiving bird. Hahaha! Happy Thanksgiving!
High-Top Kicks
I need to buy shoes. While Sauconys are both ugly and super comfortable I'm leaning toward a pair of those. But there's something really alluring about high-tops. I've been looking at Urban Outfitters, but I'm wondering if there's another place to find shoes online.
In Seattle I'd probably just go to Urban Outfitters, which I'm really only saying beacuse I feel like the "theme" of this blog has started to stray.
So if you have any ideas of where I should look for shoes, or which shoes I should buy, please let me know. I've had the same pair of pumas for about 2 years now, and people are starting to talk.
In Seattle I'd probably just go to Urban Outfitters, which I'm really only saying beacuse I feel like the "theme" of this blog has started to stray.
So if you have any ideas of where I should look for shoes, or which shoes I should buy, please let me know. I've had the same pair of pumas for about 2 years now, and people are starting to talk.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Death From Above
I've been completely obsessed with this video lately. Consei De Ser Sexy (CSS) has gained popularity with their recent feature in the latest iPod commercial, which uses their song "Music is My Hot, Hot Sex." But I love this song and the video that goes along with it. Enjoy:
Getting My Hair Did...
I haven't found a place to get my hair cut in New York yet. I don't know why but I'm terrified about going to a place I don't know here. Perhaps it's because I've had so many bad haircut experiences. I mean, have you ever seen a white kid with a hi-top fade before? I have, in the mirror, when I was 22--compliments of a man named Valencia in Pittsburgh, PA. Kisses, Valencia.And I live really close to Staten Island. I don't want to look like I'm from Staten Island. I'm afraid if I get a Staten Island haircut I might start dressing like I'm from Staten Island, then I'll start acting like I'm from Staten Island, which invariably means I'll start arguing with my girlfriend in the middle of the street at 3am on weeknights.
My solution was to email Julia Allison, Editor of Star Magazine and all-around great gal! Surely she knows where a strapping young man such as myself can go to get a haircut and keep his dignity in tact. I saw a couple places in Midtown that looked reputable, but I really want to know if she has any input. I also wanted an excuse to email my favorite New York celebrity. Kisses, JA--but not sarcastic kisses like above with Valencia.
Seriously, I'm look pretty rough around the edges folks. There are some places in Manhattan I don't even want to go looking like this. Any suggestion helps, and if you say Supercuts I will reach through the computer monitor and give you a hi-top fade.
Thanks, Chanel
I pass this ad everyday on the way home from work. I thought she was out of my life forever. Now you got me thinking about how she's doing, so I'm going to get drunk and call her (probably this weekend). And she's going to say, "Marc... it's been so long. How are you? I've missed you."
To which I will respond, "Oh my God, I'm soooo wasted. I loooooove you."
Then she's going to take it the wrong way and we're going to be back where we started. And that's not really something I can do right now; I have a lot of things going on my plate lately! I mean, I've got the 16th Floor Coffee Initiative to deal with, and that whole loft bed thing... I just don't have time for this right now!
And everytime we went out we'd wind up at Fendi for six hours while I told her which bag made her look thin.
All of them do, Keira, all of them do.
But I'll admit, there were some good times. Like the time I went to her house and her father called me a Yankee, and I didn't know what he meant. He said "you know, the seperatists," and I said, "oh, you mean the Confederacy," and he said, "No, uh, well... nevermind," and I punched him in the head and told him that we saved "their" asses in WWII. God Bless America.
But that's beside the point. Look, Keira, if you're reading this, you have to understand that I've moved on, and you should too. That Jonathan Rhys-Meyers seems cute, and he has a funny accent too! Maybe when he gets out of rehab I'll introduce you two.
At any rate: thanks, Chanel.
Coffee Initiative
At Check back often for details... there will be t-shirts.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Breakfast
For the past couple weeks this has been my breakfast:
I haven't noticed any significant diferences in the amount of energy I have, or any greater clarity of thought. I miss coffee though, and a Cliff Bar isn't nearly as satisfying as a bagel with lox cream cheese. So I replaced coffee with vitamin water, and the bagel with a Cliff Bar... the only real difference I can discern is that my breakfasts now have a smug sense of self-worth.
I haven't noticed any significant diferences in the amount of energy I have, or any greater clarity of thought. I miss coffee though, and a Cliff Bar isn't nearly as satisfying as a bagel with lox cream cheese. So I replaced coffee with vitamin water, and the bagel with a Cliff Bar... the only real difference I can discern is that my breakfasts now have a smug sense of self-worth.
Thanksgiving in Hoboken
This weekend Walt, Michael, and Mike had people over to their place in Hoboken, NJ for a sort of preliminary Thanksgiving Spectacular. Walt made a turkey and his grandmother's mashed potatoes. The rest of us brought what we could and proceeded to get drunk. Here is our story:
I woke up on Saturday at about, are you ready for this, 10:00am. What's up? Because I need a space-heater for my office, I caught the R and the N over to Target, and got some groceries for the green-bean casserole I was making for the Thanksgiving festivities. Here's an actual conversation I had with a Target employee:
Marc: Hi, do you have groceries at this store?
Target Employee: Groceries?
*Marc stares confused at the Target Employee for about 15 seconds while Target Employee stares back with equal confusion*
Marc: You know, like food.
Target Employee: Oh, yeah, second floor.
They had all of the canned goods I needed: chicken broth, cream of mushroom soup, etc, but they didn't have some stuff. No biggie, I'll just go to the grocery store when I get back.
So I get home, drop off my things, and head over to the store. Unlike Target, the Foodtown was just out-of-control packed. There were people all over the place with carts full of fried onion rings, and cranberry sauce. The place smelled of turkey and a pumpkin pie that had been knocked on the floor earlier. And the marshmellows were almost out of stock.
While I searched for my remaining ingrediants, I noticed that the overhead speakers were playing "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion. I have nothing against this song, but it's not really one of my faves. As I'm walking around, looking for diced pecans, I see that an old woman is singing along to "My Heart Will Go On" while she's picking out crackers. I kind of chuckle and move along. Then I see another woman, about the same age, singing along as well! So now I know there are TWO people in this store singing along to "My Heart Will Go On."
I negotiate a few carts, and find the bag of pecans. When I look up, there's a man, maybe 47, with a mustache (who looks kind of like Bernard Kerik with hair) singing along to "My Heart Will Go On" too! What?! Is this just the most popular song in Bay Ridge? It might be... I'll have to run some tests.
I get home and am confronted with all of Amy's boxes (see post "Putting S*** Together"). Only some of it spilled over into the kitchen area, but it was easily dealt with. Amy was already cooking yams and was pretty much ready to go. I quickly whipped together the green-bean casserole together and we were on our way.
We were on the subway so long that I started to fall in love with FOX morning news correspondent Jodi Applegate...
Before I forget, here's my green-bean casserole. Hot n' delicious, bitches:
After about 17 hours on the train, we made it to Hoboken. Neither of us had eaten all day, so we were not only freezing, but starving. When I don't eat I get kind of irritable, so when the Salvation Army bell-ringer told me even a penny helped and that I need to think about the children I responded thusly:
Marc: I need to think about the children? What? I need a penny, I need a dollar, why don't you give me a dollar! I have to go out to drinks every night after work, do you know how expensive that gets? Shit is expensive! You ever bought a beer in Midtown? It's, like $28 during happy hour! Even a penny helps? Even a penny helps me! This motherfucker right here is in need, where's my bell-ringer? Salvation Marc, where's the Salvation Marc!?"
While we waited for the turkey to finish, Michael and Brent set up the most romantic game of beer-pong in history outside. You can't really tell from the pictures, but it was pitch black save for a single red candle on the side of the table. This also gave way to one of the longest games of beer-pong in recorded history.
Editorial Note: You're never too old to play beer-pong.
Brent and I were victorious.
The turkey finished cooking, and Walt carved it:
And he had to make sure it was good:
There aren't any pictures of people enjoying all of the delicious food because I was busy filling my fat face with mashed potatoes.
But here are a couple pictures of the food itself:
I ate too fast and got the hiccups. The hiccups lasted all the way back to Brooklyn...
All of us were pretty sleepy after all that turkey, so Amy and I went home. 22 hours later we were waiting at the 59th St. stop to catch the R. It felt like forever. The wait made Amy mad, and turned me into an emo kid.
We got home at about 10:45pm and I passed out on the couch in an awkward position.
Oddly comfortable.
Thanks again for having us over guys, it was fun. Happy Thanksgiving everybody.
I woke up on Saturday at about, are you ready for this, 10:00am. What's up? Because I need a space-heater for my office, I caught the R and the N over to Target, and got some groceries for the green-bean casserole I was making for the Thanksgiving festivities. Here's an actual conversation I had with a Target employee:
Marc: Hi, do you have groceries at this store?
Target Employee: Groceries?
*Marc stares confused at the Target Employee for about 15 seconds while Target Employee stares back with equal confusion*
Marc: You know, like food.
Target Employee: Oh, yeah, second floor.
They had all of the canned goods I needed: chicken broth, cream of mushroom soup, etc, but they didn't have some stuff. No biggie, I'll just go to the grocery store when I get back.
So I get home, drop off my things, and head over to the store. Unlike Target, the Foodtown was just out-of-control packed. There were people all over the place with carts full of fried onion rings, and cranberry sauce. The place smelled of turkey and a pumpkin pie that had been knocked on the floor earlier. And the marshmellows were almost out of stock.
While I searched for my remaining ingrediants, I noticed that the overhead speakers were playing "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion. I have nothing against this song, but it's not really one of my faves. As I'm walking around, looking for diced pecans, I see that an old woman is singing along to "My Heart Will Go On" while she's picking out crackers. I kind of chuckle and move along. Then I see another woman, about the same age, singing along as well! So now I know there are TWO people in this store singing along to "My Heart Will Go On."
I negotiate a few carts, and find the bag of pecans. When I look up, there's a man, maybe 47, with a mustache (who looks kind of like Bernard Kerik with hair) singing along to "My Heart Will Go On" too! What?! Is this just the most popular song in Bay Ridge? It might be... I'll have to run some tests.
I get home and am confronted with all of Amy's boxes (see post "Putting S*** Together"). Only some of it spilled over into the kitchen area, but it was easily dealt with. Amy was already cooking yams and was pretty much ready to go. I quickly whipped together the green-bean casserole together and we were on our way.
We were on the subway so long that I started to fall in love with FOX morning news correspondent Jodi Applegate...
Before I forget, here's my green-bean casserole. Hot n' delicious, bitches:
After about 17 hours on the train, we made it to Hoboken. Neither of us had eaten all day, so we were not only freezing, but starving. When I don't eat I get kind of irritable, so when the Salvation Army bell-ringer told me even a penny helped and that I need to think about the children I responded thusly:
Marc: I need to think about the children? What? I need a penny, I need a dollar, why don't you give me a dollar! I have to go out to drinks every night after work, do you know how expensive that gets? Shit is expensive! You ever bought a beer in Midtown? It's, like $28 during happy hour! Even a penny helps? Even a penny helps me! This motherfucker right here is in need, where's my bell-ringer? Salvation Marc, where's the Salvation Marc!?"
While we waited for the turkey to finish, Michael and Brent set up the most romantic game of beer-pong in history outside. You can't really tell from the pictures, but it was pitch black save for a single red candle on the side of the table. This also gave way to one of the longest games of beer-pong in recorded history.
Editorial Note: You're never too old to play beer-pong.
Brent and I were victorious.
The turkey finished cooking, and Walt carved it:
And he had to make sure it was good:
There aren't any pictures of people enjoying all of the delicious food because I was busy filling my fat face with mashed potatoes.
But here are a couple pictures of the food itself:
I ate too fast and got the hiccups. The hiccups lasted all the way back to Brooklyn...
All of us were pretty sleepy after all that turkey, so Amy and I went home. 22 hours later we were waiting at the 59th St. stop to catch the R. It felt like forever. The wait made Amy mad, and turned me into an emo kid.
We got home at about 10:45pm and I passed out on the couch in an awkward position.
Oddly comfortable.
Thanks again for having us over guys, it was fun. Happy Thanksgiving everybody.
Earmuffs
This guy could use some earmuffs because it's f-ing freezing in Midtown.
Seriously, I need a headband or something. This is ridiculous.
Seriously, I need a headband or something. This is ridiculous.
Marc Assembles a Bed Late at Night
The other night I was watching Doctor Who on BBC-A because I'm a giant nerd, and decided I'd try to assemble the loft bed that was just delivered to me from IKEA. It was about 9:00, but I'd had a few Vitamin Waters that day and was feeling up to the challenge.
This was the first step. It wasn't so bad, but I read the instructions wrong and had to re-construct this arch again x2, because there's one for each side of the bed. Approximate time: 9:40pm.
At this point I need someone to help me hold up both sides while I screw in crossbars. I tried to do it by myself for a while by rigging up some heavy boxes, counter-weights, and an ellaborate system of pulleys and levers; but the sides kept falling on my head.
The next series of pictures should be Julianne helping me put this thing together, but there were only two of us so there was no one to take pictures...
Frame is together, futon mattress (compliments of Cassie and Adam) is in place. Approximate time: 11:30pm.
Those are 600 thread count sheets, ladies. You'll love them...
But I don't recommend sleeping in this bed. Here are all the extra parts that were left over... I don't know where they go:
So, you know, just keep that in mind.
This was the first step. It wasn't so bad, but I read the instructions wrong and had to re-construct this arch again x2, because there's one for each side of the bed. Approximate time: 9:40pm.
At this point I need someone to help me hold up both sides while I screw in crossbars. I tried to do it by myself for a while by rigging up some heavy boxes, counter-weights, and an ellaborate system of pulleys and levers; but the sides kept falling on my head.
The next series of pictures should be Julianne helping me put this thing together, but there were only two of us so there was no one to take pictures...
Frame is together, futon mattress (compliments of Cassie and Adam) is in place. Approximate time: 11:30pm.
Those are 600 thread count sheets, ladies. You'll love them...
But I don't recommend sleeping in this bed. Here are all the extra parts that were left over... I don't know where they go:
So, you know, just keep that in mind.
Putting S*** Together
Right now my roommates are working on their seperate apartment projects. Amy is unpackign the 3200 boxes of stuff she had shipped across the country, while Julianne is assembling what looks like the most crazy complicated dresser in history. I'm sitting on the couch... it's pretty dope.
Here's a picture of all of Amy's boxes:
And the bedroom:
It's pretty nuts, but actually makes the apartment seem more cozy. Here's are some pictures of Julianne trying to figure out her dresser. I'm taking pictures because I have no more idea how to assemble the thing than she does:
I was going to include a picture of me on the couch while all of this is happening, but my camera battery just died.
Here's a picture of all of Amy's boxes:
And the bedroom:
It's pretty nuts, but actually makes the apartment seem more cozy. Here's are some pictures of Julianne trying to figure out her dresser. I'm taking pictures because I have no more idea how to assemble the thing than she does:
I was going to include a picture of me on the couch while all of this is happening, but my camera battery just died.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Because the Fans Requested It
I haven't really been into posting at work lately because there's been a lot of stuff to do, but this video demanded instant attention:
I actually couldn't watch it the whole way through. I DID, however, wait until it was loaded and skipped to the end. Tina has as final message for us at the conclusion of her performance that is not only cautionary, but generally a good rule to live by.
Her last high note is also really great.
Enjoy.
I actually couldn't watch it the whole way through. I DID, however, wait until it was loaded and skipped to the end. Tina has as final message for us at the conclusion of her performance that is not only cautionary, but generally a good rule to live by.
Her last high note is also really great.
Enjoy.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Lip Gloss
For some reason I've been obsessed with this song lately--not enough to buy it on iTunes, but enough to sing it to myself when I'm walking around. More over, there are two versions of the video! The original, and the remake that was done by a She-Man! I've posted the link to the original video below, because someone who thinks they're better than me disabled the embedding feature; and embedded the She-Man version below the original.
I'm partial to the She-Man version because the dancing is beter and I like the parts where his/her eyes bug out and get all intense.
Original Version:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCvXzjGRnKc
Superior Remake:
I'm partial to the She-Man version because the dancing is beter and I like the parts where his/her eyes bug out and get all intense.
Original Version:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCvXzjGRnKc
Superior Remake:
Space Heater
I'm gonna' buy the hell out of a space heater. My office is friggin' freazing!
I think I'll get this one, because it looks like it kicks all other spaces heaters' asses.
Here's what I imagine will be the conversation that will transpire at some point after I purchase "Mr. Heater":
Fellow Employee: Hey, Marc. Wow, it's warm in here.
Marc: Yeah, that's my new heater.
Fellow Employee: That's some heater.
Marc: Yeah it is. Now get out of my office, fool. This heat belongs to me.
Fellow Employee: You're rude.
Marc: Say that to Mr. Heater... I dare you.
I think I'll get this one, because it looks like it kicks all other spaces heaters' asses.
Here's what I imagine will be the conversation that will transpire at some point after I purchase "Mr. Heater":
Fellow Employee: Hey, Marc. Wow, it's warm in here.
Marc: Yeah, that's my new heater.
Fellow Employee: That's some heater.
Marc: Yeah it is. Now get out of my office, fool. This heat belongs to me.
Fellow Employee: You're rude.
Marc: Say that to Mr. Heater... I dare you.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
IKEA Tromso Bed Assembled!
After a weekend of screwing together metal poles, disassembling metal poles, and reinterpretting instructions I have finally (with the help of my dear roommate) assembled my IKEA Tromso loft bed.
I'll be honest, it's kind of rickety and it's not especially fun climbing up and down that stupid ladder, but I'll definately have more space. Making the bed isn't as difficult as I thought it would be, which is DOOOOOPE!!!
Editorial Note: I just agonized over which adjective to use above, and decided to own my decision.
There were definately a few extra parts, and some really frustrating moments when screws wouldn't go in correctly. Ultimately, I hope it doesn't collapse on me in the middle of the night.
Wow, I hope this wasn't a terrible, terrible decision.
I'll be honest, it's kind of rickety and it's not especially fun climbing up and down that stupid ladder, but I'll definately have more space. Making the bed isn't as difficult as I thought it would be, which is DOOOOOPE!!!
Editorial Note: I just agonized over which adjective to use above, and decided to own my decision.
There were definately a few extra parts, and some really frustrating moments when screws wouldn't go in correctly. Ultimately, I hope it doesn't collapse on me in the middle of the night.
Wow, I hope this wasn't a terrible, terrible decision.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Oreo Machine
I eat a lot of McFlurrys, that's a given. Tonight I went to McDonalds to get a taste of the "flur" and was dissapointed to hear that the Oreo machine was broken. I mean, they had Oreos, they just couldn't access the Oreos to put them in the soft serve. Shoot, if they could have just given me a bunch of Oreos, I could have mixed 'em in with the soft serve myself. But that was impossible, it was an impossible situation.M&Ms are a poor substitute.
Silversun Pickups
Every week or so MTV does this thing where they highlight a band and play their videos/music all the time, between shows and sometimes during commercials. The first time I saw this it was Tegan and Sara, then it was Common, and now I'm happy to announce that they're highlighting Seattle-based band Silversun Pickups.
I would be listening to the album if it wasn't destroyed when my car was stolen. At any rate, I hightly recommend them. Here are some videos:
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