In 2008 I Will Be 33% More Productive, Thanks Science

In what sounds like a dream for millions of tired coffee drinkers, Darpa-funded scientists might have found a drug that will eliminate sleepiness...

What I'm Listening To At Work

Thanks to a very generous iTunes card from one Matt S. I was able to purchase two great albums last night. The first was the Juno Soundtrack. I don't buy a lot of soundtracks, but this one is great. It features Kimya Dawson, a not very well known but fantastic musician; and the most popular song Mott the Hoople every did "All the Young Dudes." Also, the final track with Michael Cera and Ellen Page singing "Anyone Else But You" is fantastic, adorable.

I also purchased the latest album from Kenna Make Sure They See My Face. It's his first album in something like six years. His first, New Sacred Cow, is still one of my favorite records of all time. The new albums adds more clicks and whistles, and strays from New Sacred Cow's new-wave sound a bit but still has the synthesizer that made him so popular to begin with.

I'd highly recommend both of these albums. Here's a track listing for each:













1. All I Want Is You, performed and written by Barry Louis Polisar
2. My Rollercoaster, (Juno Film Version) performed and written by Kimya Dawson
3. A Well Respected Man, performed by The Kinks
4. Dearest, performed by Buddy Holly
5. Up The Spout, performed and written by Mateo Messina
6. Tire Swing, performed and written by Kimya Dawson
7. Piazza, New York Catcher, performed by Belle & Sebastian
8. Loose Lips, performed and written by Kimya Dawson
9. Superstar, performed by Sonic Youth
10. Sleep (Instrumental), performed and written by Kimya Dawson
11. Expectations, performed by Belle & Sebastian
12. All The Young Dudes, performed by Mott The Hoople
13. So Nice So Smart, performed and written by Kimya Dawson
14. Sea Of Love, performed by Cat Power
15. T15. ree Hugger, performed by Kimya Dawson and Antsy Pants
16. I’m Sticking With You, performed by Velvet Underground
17. Anyone Else But You, performed by The Moldy Peaches
18. Vampire, performed by Antsy Pants
19. Anyone Else But You, performed by Michael Cera and Ellen Page













1. Daylight
2. Out of Control (State of Emotion)
3. Loose Wires / Blink Radio
4. Say Goodbye To Love
5. Sun Red Sky Blue
6. Baptised In Blacklight
7. Static
8. Phantom Always
9. Face The Gun / Good Luck
10. Better Wise Up
11. Be Still
12. Wide Awake

Love Is...

Love is...

More Breaking News

To be filed under: "Stabby Stabby."

Looks like the stabbing that occurred Wednesday night was the result of an altercation between a man and his sister's boyfriend. The reason for the stabbing is still unknown, however, we do know that the victim died. No one could tell me if he died at the scene or shortly after. Several newspaper reporters were in the neighborhood today trying to get the hot scoop, but word has it that they are having trouble scrounging up a picture of the perpetrator. Additionally, no one I've spoken with could tell me if it was the brother, or the sister's boyfriend who did the stabbing.

According to an un-named source, the perpetrator could have been a man nicknamed in Bay Ridge as "Clouseau," because of his trademark mustache and trench coat. The man in question was also tall. His involvement in the crime has yet to be confirmed.

So, here be the facts:

1) A guy and his sister's boyfriend got in a tussle that ended in a stabby bloodbath.
2) The victim died at or shortly after the incident occurred.
3) It's harder to get a picture of a suspected murderer than you might think.
4) Marc is a terrible amateur reporter.
5) This shit didn't happen in Seattle.

In other news, the "JUNO" soundtrack is really great and I highly recommend it.

Backwards Sweater

Just realized my sweater has been on backwards all day. How embarassing.

Breaking News

I just thought people were having loud sex next door.

"Law and Order" was telling me all about the fundamental problems with outsourcing criminal detention facilities when I heard a man screaming from the apartment that shares the wall with the one I'm sitting behind now--the one in the living room. "Oh God, Oh God... Oh GOD!" I heard. Like I said, I thought it was a loud guy getting his swerve on. I could barely hear a woman, she faintly moaned and I took that for what I took that for.

He kept saying it over and over again, "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!" After a while I thought it was a drunk person screaming "Olga, Olga!" It was that or someone was having trouble finishing what he started. I put my ear to the wall and immediately feared a knife sticking through with slasher-movie speed, piercing the side of my head, leaving a gruesome crime scene in the apartment next to another, slightly more gruesome crime scene.

Then I heard the sirens. There were several of them. "Law and Order" was still on, but the fictional drama paled in comparison to what was unfolding outside. I pulled back the curtain, not enough to be conspicuous, but enough to witness the scene developing. In the fore was a single ambulance, surrounded by four police cruisers. A man was unloading a gurney, and talking on a walkie-talkie. After an officer approached, they entered the apartment. When the ambulance man came back out he said some medical/police jargon into the walkie-talkie along with the words "confirmed stabbing."


I saw a group of people: police, medical professionals, maybe some guys from the off-track betting place--I don't know, wheeling the gurney with someone lying on it into the ambulance. I could barely see the victim, but there was certainly a fair amount of red.


After the victim was loaded up, the ambulance and one of the police cruisers began to leave. Thinking this was it, I admired the speed of the New York Police Department, and went back to "Law and Order." I checked back after the show ended and saw a large group of police officers and detectives standing outside my building, talking, laughing, slapping their knees. I had to wonder what was so damn funny. They weren't surly like I've come to expect from Elliot Stabler and Ice-T.

Along with the large groups of law enforcement professionals I saw a new police cruiser in the prominent position the ambulance previously occupied. This cruiser had an officer posted outside who occasionally shined his flashlight into the backseat of the car, as if to make sure the suspect was still there, or something. Damn. I really wanted to see the suspect.

I wanted to see if he looked like "just another guy," if he was someone I might have seen before, if he had distinguishing traits that would clue me in to future stabbers I may come across.

The groups of police officers are still there, but much smaller. There was just some yelling outside, but it was just the standard Staten Island douchebag yelling you may hear on any given Wednesday night. The officers were un-fazed.

No one has come to the door yet, to ask questions. I hope they don't, and I hope they do. I want to know everything about the attempted murder next door, I want to know if this sort of thing happens more than I might realize. Not because I'm neurotic, because I'm nosy.

Chocolate Rain

I honestly don't know why I'm always the last person to see hilarious internet videos, but usually by the time I hear about them they're already being parodied on t-shirts. At any rate, I thought this was great:



Note how he moves away from the mic to breathe in.

I was so late on seeing this video that it even spawned a new video with higher production value because it had caught on so big. Here's that:

Day Off

I really wanted to see Juno last week. Since I can never seem to fit going to a movie into my schedule, I decided to take a day off and go see it with Rohan and Tom. We decided, in order to make the most of our day, that we'd go to this place called "Barcade" in Williamsburg after the movie.

The day began at 10:00am when I woke up and went over to Brooklyn Bagels. I go to Brooklyn Bagels entirely too much. Not only do they make excellent breakfast bagels, but their sandwiches are also spectacular. Honestly, with all the bagels I eat + lack of exercise I'm amazed at how not giant and fat I've gotten. I guess that'll come eventually.


I had to wait with a building crowd as this obnoxious woman in a leaopard print coat and two too many layers of make-up kept ordering more and more food. It was ridiculous, the longer she stood there, the more she ordered. Her initial order was a bunch of deli meat that was taking forever to slice, then she ordered a muffin, then two bagels. But not just any bagels, she wanted specific bagels in the case "I want that one in the middle, and the one under... no, yes that one under the one in the back." And then she wanted coffee, etc, etc.

Between ordering different things that caught her eye she made small talk with the lady behind the counter. The way she was talking, I thought she knew the woman behind the counter because she was saying really scandalous, racist stuff. Leopard print coat lady started talking about her day out of nowhere and said, "I'm going to gamble with the c***nks, I'm going to go gamble with the c***nks!" The woman behind the counter said, "You can't use that kind of language," so she amends was she is saying and Leopard Print says, "I'm gonna' go play slots with the Chi-neeze, they love slots!" This woman was truly horrible. At this point I was annoyed, surrounded by other irritated patrons, and just wanted my damn bagel. I would have left but I was next in line. I didn't want to talk to her and ask for a picture, so I snapped this one on the sly.


I met Rohan and Tom and we took the subway into Union Square where we bought tickets to Juno. We were a bit late for the 1:30, so we went to Starbucks to wait for the 2:20 show. It was freakin' freezing that day, and for some reason we weren't only a few feet away from a Starbucks. Eventually we found one, the NYU one. It was the biggest Starbucks I'd ever been to (and I thought I'd seen all Starbucks had to offer). Everyone in the place looked young, and like they study film. Rohan, Tom, and I talked crossword puzzles and how the baristas make you feel like you're putting them out by ordering drinks. As we left, I saw another celebrity, but it was so fleeting that I really don't even consider it a "celebrity sighting." She was coming in as we were leaving, it was Heather Matarazzo from "Welcome to the Dollhouse."


Walking into the movie I still had my coffee. The ticket lady said something about it, and I thought, "Oh man, I've barely had any coffee and I have to thow it away? This is horse-shit!" But she actually just asked where her coffee was and let me keep it. This made me happy; I felt like I ruled the world.

The movie was amazing, as anyone who has talked to me in the last week knows. I'd be happy to see it again.

As we left the theatre and walked to the subway I saw the sunset on Union Square and thought it was beautiful. I didn't get a very good picture, but here it is:


Because I left my wallet at home, we had to go back to Bay Ridge. Rohan and I had just been arguing about whether or not the old song about cereal went: "Can't get enough of that Sugar Crisp," or "Can't get enough of that Golden Crisp." It turns out we were both right. Originally, the song was Sugar Crisp, then became Golden Crisp later. Apparently there was an old Sugar Crisp commercial wish Sugar Bear too, that of course we watched. Sugar Crisp, more like Banana Muffin Crisp! Here's a video like the one we watched, for some reason I can't find the one we originally watched:



Barcade was pretty easy to find. When we got there it was empty, but it was a Monday night. I really like going out on weeknights, as opposed to weekends because you don't have to fight with crowds to get drinks, and there aren't so many girls throwing themselves at you. Listen ladies, I'm just here to have a good time, I don't need you rubbing all over me whenever I go out, I don't care how many times you've been in the Victoria Secret Fashion Show...


They had much nicer beers than I expected to find, and they had a really nice selection. As is implicit in the name, the bar was a bar/arcade. Banks of old arcade games like Frogger, Marble Madness, and Contra lined the walls. I never realized how difficult arcade-style games are, I'm so used to the controller on a Playstation. I actually got a horrible cramp while playing my favorite arcade game of all time, 1943.


We played some games for a while and drank some crazy strong beers, they were like the American versions of the strong beers at Burp Castle; I think they're called "micro-brews." I didn't even know they had breweries here, but they actually have some great ones in Manhattan! There's even a brewery in Chelsea--their beer has a delicate balance of hops and malt that indicate the soft touch and attention to detail you'd expect from a fierce brewmaster.

We sat around a table in the back between games of Tapper and created analogies... that's right, we were all cool jocks in high school. I'm not gonna' lie, a lot of them had video game themes. Incidentally, Tapper is a really hard game that will give you a headache, sho' nuff.



Then Jade showed and shit started to go down! And by go down I mean we went from creating analogies to thinking of t-shirts with dirty slogans on them. Of course, the more we drank, the less we thought about what time it was. Tom tried to leave around 1:00, but he got roped into staying for another half hour.


On the way home, there was construction at the Lorimer stop and because we were drunk everyone was just appalled. We were convinced this would slow the train and we would never get home. In retrospect the train wasn't effected at all, but because we had to go into Manhatten and back down to Bay Ridge from Union Square it still took FOREVER to get home. I was in bed by 3:00am... and was back out of bed at 7:00am for work.


When I got to the office, I looked on my calender and realized I had a New Hire Breakfast that morning, a Sales Lunch at noon, and drinks after work with my department after work.

Tuesday was kinda' hard.

16th Floor Coffee-Marker Initiative: Success!

You're welcome, .

At the Sales Department gift exchange, holdiay party our President informed everyone that starting the following Monday two different types of coffee-makers would be installed on floors 14 and 15. We, as a department, would then have to test both coffee-makers to determine which one we liked more. After a preliminary period, we'll install the winning coffee-maker brand on every floor! That said, I now have free coffee--and that's going in the win column. Here are the two brands of coffee-makers with a brief description:


I don't remember the namebrands of each machine, but I can tell you what they do. The coffee-maker pictured above comes with these little cups with ground coffee inside. You pull open the top of the maker, but in the cup and turn it on. Pretty straight-forward. You can make a regular cup of coffee, or pull a stronger cup of coffee that gives you a more concentrated, smaller cup of coffee. In all, no complaints. Oh, and it also looks like it's from the future.


This machine is a little more complicated. You press the button for which kind of drink you want (i.e.: coffee, cappuccino, or something called "indulgence"). After you make a selection, a door pops out and prompts you to put in a coffee packet with what seems like a liquid substance inside. Then it just makes your coffee and you're set. Also pretty straight-forward, you just have to make a few more decisions. I almost forgot, there are about 10 different types of coffee packets to choose from, vs. 3 different kinds (including decaf) with the other machine.

I think I kind of like the easier, futureistic machine. I just think the coffee tastes better, and I look cooler using it.

Shot At Love Casting

Looks like MTV is already casting for the second installment of "A Shot at Love." According to the rumor mill, they're going to produce the next season with a different Bachelorette, as Tila Tequila supposedly had a boyfriend through the entire show and refused to break up with him.

Though I would love to watch another season of Tila Tequila, for whom I've grown quite fond, I'm still excited about the prospect of season of watching a single, bi-sexual lady look for love while pitting the sexes against each other in the ultimate challege of their bodies, minds, and hearts.

You can find the application at: http://www.shotatlovecasting.com/, and don't think I'm taking this lying down. I welcome any ideas on how to improve my application, which I will post in pieces on this very website. With hope, you'll see me soon enough on MTV getting drunk, fighting with Ignorant Southerners, crying about things that seem nominal, and making out with someone who will likely look like a tranny.

Celebrity Pregnancies are the New Black

It's been a few days now since US Weekly released their exclusive interview with Jamie Lynne Spears about her pregnancy at 16. The Nickelodeon star of Zoey 101 got knocked up by her 18-year-old, OC-doucebag boyfriend about 3 months ago. But everyone already knows this. That said, I still can't F-ing believe it.

Honestly, I think about it all the time. What the hell happened with this girl? How moronic do you have to be? It's just so perfect, the sister of train-wreck extraordinaire Britney Spears, and star of the most popular Nickelodeon show on TV is all "preggers" at 16. 16 years-old. Does she even have a driver's license yet? Consider, for a moment, this F-ed up American paradox:

You can legally get go to war and legally kill (and be killed) in defense of your country at 18;

You can legally get drunk on peach schnapps and Goldschlagger, and make-out with that kid from your Econ class who smells really terrible but you sort of always thought was cute in a dirty sort of way at 21;

and just when you're wondering when you'll ever be an adult, you remember that you can have a hit TV show and be stupid enough to get pregnant at the age of 16!

And this is ok? Maybe it's not ok, which is why it's getting so much attention. But here you go, something this bizarre is getting all this media attention, garnering a $1 million exclusive interview deal with a gossip magazine, and making people like me who didn't even know Britney Spears had a sister talk about her on my blog. Does this make it ok? Are we, as the American public, essentially promoting this stupid fucking behavior of hers?

Furthermore, you know this is a result of her stupid trashy family, right? I mean, come on, her name is Jamie-Lynn Spears. At face value that's not such a bad name, until you realize that her mother's name is Lynn and her father's name is Jamie. That's right, she was named after both her mother and father, because they're retarded Southerners who are strangely in love with themselves.

It's makes you wonder about how money changes people too though. I mean, obviously it changes people (especially when it's made too fast). But consider for a second how different people are changed differently when a bunch of cash and fame are tossed in their lap. Look at Anna Nicole Smith, and the Spears family. They got catapulted into this world that was so dissimilar to their simple, hick-y, Kentwood, Louisiana lifestyle. They became products of every vice in Los Angeles and became parodies of themselves. Essentially they are the litmus test for how fame effects children.

The mom is wearing clothes made for people half her age and look like an oompa loompa with an over-bite (see Dina Lohan). Britney is doing every crazy drug available because everyone around her is; texting while driving in her $300,000 car, wearing Prada dresses to pick up groceries, without shoes, etc, etc, etc. It's a sort of abject un-appreciation all of these things became they came too easily, and furthermore, were forced upon her as they were supposed to be the things you have when you're mega rich. But you can't take the South out of the girl... and that's not even a Southern thing though, that's a "Ignorant South" thing. So, to re-phrase, you can't take the Ignorant South out of the girl...

So now we have Jamie-Lynn Spears, the perfect example of how Laguna Beach, and her own sister made the most impressionable girls into over-sexualized caricatures. And this is what I'm getting at, the Ignorant South (by which I mean the ignorant parts of the South, not that the South is ignorant. By and large, I think Southern hospitality is awesome and very real) is just such a blank canvas. Money changed the Spears' by displaying every vice, every habit, and every pissy, privileged attitude onto them. So why didn't they gain any positive traits? Because the vices are much easier, and isn't that what the Ignorant South is about? Whatever is easiest? A culture where high school football and gun ownership are prized far above intelligence?

You did this to yourselves, Yokels. I guess. It wasn't the money, it was the attitude you had before the money and the fame that made the money and the fame so venomous. What I want to know is, how did no one rise above it? How is that so impossible? It's the lack of will and personal respect, the volunteering to continue to be a part of this self-destructive/culture-destructive system that I can't get over. Get the FUCK out of LA. Here are some other suggestions:

1) Start Reading: Things other than US Weekly and People. Those aren't bad once you get in the habit of not being god-damn retarded, but try something else first. Maybe an issue of TIME, or even GQ. Something with some literary merit. If that proves to be too much, travel back to Curious George books for a while, they'll warm your dead heart and get your mind off blow.

2) Don't Live with your Parents: If you're young and rich, and you're living with your parents, odds are that you're parents are more poisoned than you and likely taking your money. You became a cash cow when they started living in the house YOU bought. They are useless as parents now because you have all the power. "Oh, honey, you want to hit the club at 15? Ok, as long as you make it to rehearsal and pick up some of Columbia's finest on the way home."

3) Learn to Say No: You're rich and successful and people will keep liking you because you're rich and successful. You don't have to huff paint out of Pete Weintz' boxer briefs to make friends. Truth be told, you're probably better served to stay off the shit, get more movie roles, get richer, and stay pretty--that'll keep your "friends" around longer.

So what are we talking about now? Where was I even going with this? I have no idea. My point is that I can't get over the stupid decisions people like this make, and it keeps me awake trying to understand their perspective. I love watching train wrecks, we all do. I think what tipped the scales for me is that this 16-year-old girl did a stupid fucking thing and made $1 million dollars for it, and then proceeded to talk about it like it wasn't devastating. I don't care what she tells US Weekly, it's fucking devastating. Yet, in the interview we get gems like her mother whimsically telling stories about have Jamie-Lynn says "I think I'm showing," and mom says, "Oh shut up, no you're not!"

Truth be told, I bet it would have been a better interview if the interviewer asked "Are you embarrassed by this at all, or think you made a bad decision?" "Do you think you're being a bad role model?" "Is this something you thought about at all before you decided to get busy with your douchebag boyfriend from Newport Harbor? But US Weekly would never do that, because they like to coddle their money-makers. It just occurred to me that US Weekly is called US Weekly. They're not us. It should be called THEM magazine.

If we thought of celebrities, like truly thought of celebrities like us, with jobs and families, and personal drama, and insecurities, we wouldn't give a shit about them. Last night as I was going to bed, I was thinking about making lots of money. I'm absolutely convinced that I'm going to be super rich someday, anyone who knows me knows that, and I realized that regardless of how rich I am I'll always feel guilty for not calling my parents enough, for not knowing my cousins better, for leaving behind old friends that I cared so much about but don't get to talk to anymore. Celebrities are like US, all the time. It's not about whether or not they go to Starbucks, or walk their dogs, or go for runs occasionally, or play frisbee in the park; we don't even know them, they're symbols. Celebrities are like nice cars that you wish you could buy, that make you feel like an enviable human being.

So Jessica Alba is pregnant now too. And I hardly think about it. You know why? Because lots of successful, 26 year-old woman have babies. Yeah, she's really hot, and she'll probably continue to be hot when she's pregnant, just a little chubbier. But don't worry, she'll be back to normal in no time, 14 year-old boys (don't throw away your jizz rags just yet), and we'll all be back to the way things were. We'll have our Jessica back, just the way we like her, thin and pretty. And if we don't, we'll have someone new to laugh at! Just like high school, just like US.

Today Show Montage

Does anyone else feel like everytime they turn on the Today Show they're showing some montage about how much fun they have on the set? I swear, the last three or four times I've turned it on it's some spead up clip montage set to "Walkin' on Sunshine," or another equally cheezy but palatable song for "older" people. And the montages always have a theme, like "On the Move," where they're all dancing on the set; or "Sing Like You Mean It!" where they're singing along to some random song Roker started singing for no reason between segments.

Oh, BTW, the "On the Move" montage was supposed to make it look like they're dancing all the time between segments, but was in actuality just spead up clips of the correspondents walking places--there were only a couple actual moments where they "danced."

I already like you, Today Show correspondents (except you, Lauer); you don't have to try so hard. Now can we please get back to showing me how to make low-calorie snack foods for my children, and telling me about that kitten that got trapped in a rain gutter for three days?

Ravens and Chimes

I always think that the designation of "indie" on MySpace is really hilarious. It's just so vague and meaningless. It's like saying, "David Bowis is 'weird." Does that make sense? Probably not.

What I'm getting at is that there's this band, see? They're called "Ravens and Chimes" and they will rock your butt. Because they're sort of "new" they don't have a video yet to post, but it'd be in your best interest to go to their MySpace page and listen to some of their hot trackz. My favorite is "This is Where We Are," but as Reading Rainbow's Levar Burton would say, "don't take my word for it."

Editorial Note: I highly recommend clicking the "Levar Burton" link.

Street Kids in Seattle

Kelly told me about this blog and I thought I'd pass it along. It's pretty interesting and really captures the "Seattle vibe" when you're in some parts of the city. An important distinction to make about Seattle, vs. older cities, is that unlike most older cities the homeless desperation isn't rooted in economics. The homeless population in Seattle is typically made up of failed artists, musicians, and other younger people who got hooked on meth, etc.--as opposed to being forced onto the street by a bottomed-up business infrastructure, or poor subsidized housing initiatives.

And that's not to say that some of the homeless problem, street kids are all a result of drug abuse and broken pipe dreams; but these are the ones that you really feel when you walk through the U-District, or Belltown, or 3rd Avenue.

But as I was saying, the blog is kind of pretentious and annoying at times, but it's an interesting insight into a sadly prevalent lifestyle in Seattle.

Pound Cake

Because there's an incredible surplus of candy/chocolate/baked goods in the office, someone gave me an entire pound cake today! Apparently it came from an author that we publish. I did not, however, ask which author. I mean, as long as I don't know for certain who the author is I can sort of assume it's anyone, right?

I like the idea that I my be eating Michael Crighton's pound cake. Or maybe it was James Frey who slaved over a stove for an entire afternoon to make this baked goodie. Perhaps Clarence Thomas, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court and author of MY GRANDFATHER'S SON, lovingly wrapped this particular holiday treat, and sent it peronally on its way with his sincerist holiday best wishes.

In that case it would be un-American not to enjoy this delcious, free pound cake. That said, thank you Clarence Thomas, God Bless You... and God Bless America.

Bad Mood

Do you ever have a really hard couple of days (like you don't get enough sleep, or you keep getting bills for things you can't remember buying because it was so long ago, or something like that) and you just get in a terrible mood? Whenever this happens to me, my internal monologue goes first.

This morning I was watching "The Today Show" and Al Roker said, "Oh, looks like a wet one in the Northwest!"

As I watched this, my first thought was: "Of course it's f***ing wet in the Northwest you stupid bastard, it's always wet in the Northwest in Winter. What kind of meteorlogist are you? More like f***ing moron-elogist... I liked you better when you were fat."

Which is terrible because I normally really like Al Roker! I just need some sleep.

A Crazy For All Seasons

New York, you have the best Crazies. If there was, like, a "Crazy Olympics" you would win the gold in every event. And this is certainly not to say that Seattle didn't have it's share of Crazies, or my it surely did, but they were of a different breed.

You would typically find a Seattle Crazy strung out and asking for money. Their appearance, a drug-addled teen who moved to The Emerald City in order to live where Nirvana was formed. They, of course, realize all too soon that sitting outside of Kurt Kobein's house is just as boring as sitting in front of any house, and often regret selling their guitar for a bus pass and some crystal meth. They're skinny, and dirty, and far younger than you're comfortable with--but they're not aggressive.

Today, while walking to my favorite food cart, I heard this insane rambling about Jesus or Revelations or something along those lines. Whoever it was was belting his gospel for everyone to hear. I turned around and there, in front of Brooks Brothers, as a genuine New York crazy, screaming at people's backs about how much shit their gonna' be in when Jesus gets back. What makes this especially funny, though, is that he was a bell ringer for the Salvation Army...

Can you catch more flies with honey?

The bell ringers in the Northwest were pretty docile, and often times kind of sweet. I mean, they're always homeless people (9 times out of 10), or just a bored religious woman ringing bells out of the goodness of her heart. I mean, you know they're going to shake out what they can at the end of their shift and buy a jug of Monarch Rum, but that's just understood. In New York, you get the impression that they already drank the rum and are just bell ringing because they're bored and want to scream about Jesus with the aid of a bell.

But to be completely honest, and I've said this before, New York is just so damn intense. Northwest Crazies could probably be financial consultants here, in fact, they might be an improvement on some of the people you find in the Financial District.

Yeah, what's up Financial District? Burn!

It's just a new breed here, and I guess if you're going to get pushed by society and circumstance this is a place that will push you hard. The people who are forced to stay in the city just have stores of built-up insanity that has collected over so so long. I mean, at least in Seattle it doesn't snow. At least in Seattle if you're homeless you're always a 20-minute walk away from some forest no one will ever bother you in. The crazies in Seattle get to re-charge their batteries a little bit, at least to an extent. But sorry New York, Trump has renovated all the bombed out warehouses, turned 'em into luxury condos; and don't even think about finding a few trees where you can hide a tent.

Can we please, for the sake of everyone, just hire a bus, collect all the crazies, and move them to Staten Island? Really, I don't think anyone will notice.

Sure Thing

Finally, a Gridskipper topic that speaks to me!

Publishing Camp Holiday Party

Last weekend was the Denver Publishing Institute Holiday Party, which was held at The Princeton Club in Midtown. We all wore our finest suits and dresses, and happily put on our name tags so we could schmooze with the publishing industry crowd and drink all the free booze we could keep down. Unfortunately I didn't get any pictures from the actual party because I was busy ordering Beck's with one hand, and drinking Beck's with the other. Here are some highlights from the party though:

1) Brent, who at the time did not have a job, was speaking with a woman at Random House about open positions for which he was qualified, when one Michael M. ran up and twisted Brent's nipples. Though hilarious, this didn't go over as well as you'd think.

2) Some girl from a previous class got wasted and started hitting on every guy from the DPI 2007 class she could find, except me (for which I am thankful and not jealous). Her conversation with Mike went as follows:

Drunk Girl: Where were you?

Mike: What are you talking about?

Drunk Girl: We were supposed to meet in the bathroom.

Mike: *confused look as he tries to keep her from grabbing his hand.

3) Though no final number has been confirmed, I think I drank 11 bottles of Becks. This made me hyper-social by the end of the night. When the lights were flicked on and off a few times, indicating the bar was closed and the party was over, I took the last 5 minutes I had and said hi to EVERYONE I had failed to talk to thus far in the evening. The conversations went something like this:

Marc: Joyce! How are you? It's so good to see you! Are you here for the party, or are you in New York for other business? I look at Co-op sheets for the Tattered cover everyday and always remember how much I love your stores and how much I want to go back to them all the time. Last I heard you were thinking about buying another store, how is that going? Are you still considering that? Are you in New York often? I'm just so glad I ran into you!

Joyce: I'm fine, thank you.

4) Jason was there! Boston Jason, who plays a mean game of Scrabble and enjoys crackers and cheese! It was great to see him, and we were all glad he could make it up! Phoebe was also there! She was in town for business and we got to hang out with her all weekend! Erin and J-Nel were both there too, and they are both moving up to New York soon! I suggest they read this website as much as possible to get a better idea of what life in New York is really like.

5) In the middle of a story Carl was telling me, I see this business card shoved into the side of my line of sight. I try to ignore the card for as long as possible, but ultimately had to address the situation as it was really irritating. "Excuse me for a second, Carl," I said, "just let me deal with this." I turn to the girl holding the card:

Marc: What are you doing?

Girl with Card: Here's my card.

Marc: Why is it in my face.

Girl with Card: I thought you said you wanted to meet.

Marc: No, I never said that.

This was especially bad because Girl with Card works for Penguin, and I didn't want Carl to think I was trolling for another job. I love HarperCollins, it rox my wrld.

The DPI Party ended, but the rest of the night had just begun. The lot of us, not a sober one among us, subwayed it down to the East Village. On the subway, I took the best J-Crew picture of Walt ever.



Our first stop was The Sullivan Room. All the reviews from Yelp.com said that this place was just the bee's knees, but as you can see from the picture, it wasn't exactly hoppin' when we got there. Truth be told, we were probably just there too early, but we were ready to dance/drink more and this just was not going to do.


We walked around the corner to another bar, the name of which no one could remember. There was a table at the back that we descended upon and began to order drinks without missing a step. Outside, J-Nel met a guy with dreads. I think dreads are kind of gross, but typically like the politics that people with dreadlocks expound, so I immediately horned in on the conversation. Unfortunately they were just talking about how banana muffins his dreads were, but I got a picture.


Back inside, Jen was getting ready to leave. Because there was a card minimum, she asked if I wanted a shot. Um, of course I want a shot. I told her I'd drink whatever she was buying, and naturally she picked Jeger. Incidentally, I get hungover EVERY TIME I drink Jegar. I can have one wine cooler for an entire night, then take a shot of Jeger and feel like death the next morning. Then Jen left. Oh, I forgot to mention, I talked to Jen's boyfriend some more and found out that he runs a dog kennel where celebrities sometimes take their dogs, which I think is f-ing awesome.

There might have been dancing later, but the only dancing I cared to watch was these two strapping young lads doing the Harlem Shake, or the Electric Slide, or some other crazy dance that came from a song. They were really getting into it, and God love em' they were doing a damn fine job.


Phoebe spilled a drink on my pants and it looked like I peed myself. This was convenient because later when I did pee myself I was able to say that someone just spilled a drink on me...


After Nameless Bar #1 we went to another bar about a half a block down that I think was called, The Bitter End. At this point I was just fine with the prospect of not drinking anymore, but I was excruciatingly hungry. This brings me to an important question about bar food. If you could order anything in a bar at 1:30am, what would it be? My first choice was fish and chips, but they didn't have fish and chips at a bar called THE BITTER END, which is a nautical theme. So I got Pasta Primavera... at a bar... at 1:30am. Naturally I had to have a beer with it, but I was not happy about it.


J-Nel ordered these crazy things called "bar wings." We talked about life, and love, and honor until the food arrived and we found out what bar wings really are... they are unappetizing is what they are. J-Nel was outside, so I grabbed one and bit in out of shear curiosity. The damn thing was so hot I could hardly stand it. Past the batter outer-coating I finally hit a piece of chicken. Unfortunately, because of the batter, I couldn't see where on the wing I was biting and bit right down on a gross tendon. Promptly I spit out the piece of hot, tendon-y chicken. Here, Erin points out the failed bite, which sits next to the rest of my bar wing.


Phoebe was "miffed" about something, and someone said something that I thought was dumb. Then I took an adorable picture of Erin.


After we finished our conversation about Sartre, and after I finished my pasta primavera, we all decided to hang it up for the night. I was complaining about my ride back to Brooklyn, and everyone convinced me to just sleep in Hoboken. For some reason no one can remember this little patch of time before we got to the PATH train where we took pictures in Washington Square. I don't remember it, Erin doesn't remember, nor did anyone else. Regardless, here is the photographic evidence.


My ears were cold.


On the train, J-Nel, Phoebe, and Erin decided it would be really funny to recreate the world's most obnoxious laugh while a bunch of tired, drunk, Jersey-natives filled a train at 4:00 in the morning. J-Nel was explaining to these completely uninterested guys, who were wearing headphones, the origins of the world's most obnoxious laugh. Right as I thought I was going to exit the train without looking like an ass, it made a sharp turn and I fell INTO a guy sitting down. He was actually really cool about it, and gently pushed me back into a standing position.

In Hoboken, we arrived at Walt, Mike, and Michael's place. I was informed then that Phoebe, J-Nel, and Erin had agreed to stay at Pam's place. Oh! Before I forget, and I can't believe I almost forgot this, as we were leaving Nameless Bar #1 we saw Pam chatting up some random dude at the bar. As we waited outside for her, we looked across the street and saw Pam standing with the guy next to a stretch Hummer limo! Assuming they were just exchanging phone numbers or something, we went back to our conversation. About fifteen seconds later, we looked over and the pam, pam's guy, and the limo were gone! Holy shit!

Anyway, the girls decided to stay at Pam's place. I went with because her roommate wasn't there and I was promised a place to sleep other than the floor. When we got to Pam's though, there was no answer at the door. We buzzed repeatedly, called, texted--nothing. Had none of us been so drunk, I'm certain we all would have started freaking out and getting really worried, but instead we were a little pissed we had to walk back to Walt's and assumed she was ok.


Luckily, when we got back to the guys' apartment they were awake. That night we had 1/10th of the entire 2007 DPI class, and 6/9 our classes guys sleeping in the same apartment in Hoboken.

Jason's air mattress was crazy leaky, and we fell asleep to a reprisal of the world's most obnoxious laugh, but it wasn't so bad.


The next morning, Michael woke up on top of his computer, Jason's mattress had mostly deflated and he was practically sleeping on the floor, and Phoebe found a missed call from Pam that was made at 5:00am. She had ridden two blocks in the Hummer, realized it was a terrible idea to go anywhere with anyone in a stretch Hummer limo, and gone home. She was home when we were calling, buzzing, texting, but had just completely passed out.

The morning was all breakfast, and hangovers, and stories about run-ins with the law. It was a beautiful day in Hoboken, the kind of day that makes you feel like a winner, and we were winners... winners with winning smiles and sparkling personalities.

8 Hours of "Beauty and the Geek"

What a day! Last night was the Newscorp Party, so today I woke up at about 11:30--completely unprepared to do anything productive. Julianne had the tv on and was watching one of my favorite shows of all time, "Beauty and the Geek." Moreover, this was the season I didn't get to see, Season 3! I actually did have a chance to watch it, but Cecille was so mean and dumb all the time that I just chose not to watch it.

I sat down on the couch and started to watch. After the first episode I was hooked, and quickly asked if it was a marathon... it was. Here's my recap of the 8 hours I spent today watching "Beauty and the Geek," Season 3. I'll begin with episode 1, which I've titled: The Vagina Monologues.

Episode 1 began with the "beauties" challenge, which involved interviewing one the authors of HarperCollins' Freakonomics, Stephan Dubner. Of course, none of the beauties read the book, save for the occasional girl who read the flap copy. Obviously none of them knew anything about the book, and I kept waiting to hear one of them ask, "So for our viewers who are unfamiliar with the book, could you summarize the basic idea behind Freakonomics?" Ultimately, Sheree was the only one to ask this question, she also won. I'd make such a good beauty. Probably the high point of the competition, though, was when it was Cecille's turn to interview Stephan Dubner. Obviously, of all the beauties, Cecille made the least effort to read the book at all, and it showed in her interview. When Dubner came out, the first question Cecille asked: "I think names are really interesting, what do you think of me based on my name, Ceci?" To which Dubner responded, "Well, I think you probably came from a family in a high-income bracket..."

Wow. One of the judges asked, "Is this girl for real?" No... no she's not.

Another great moment was when Tori sat down to begin her interview, and rather than reading aloud off the teleprompter to introduce Dubner, she read silently as the words scrolled by... twice. I'm pretty certain, also, that the producers thought it would be funny to add the word "enigmatic" to the teleprompter opening, which no one pronounced correctly--except the winner of the challenge.

When the "geeks" challenge came up, we learned that they had to create and perform a stand-up act at LA's famous Laugh Factory. I didn't see much of their practicing for the challenge, but I did get the chance to see Drew rehearse his intro that went as follows:

"Hello ladies and gentlemen, I'm Drew and today I'm going to... (really long pause)." Just say what you're going to do, Drew. You're probably going to tell some jokes, perhaps make some witty observations about men/women, Blacks/Whites, Geeks/Beauties, Star Trek/Star Wars, right? I felt for the guy, but it was just brutal watching him flub the easiest part of his act in front of only his teammate. His act, when performed, was generally pretty unmemorable, but he didn't freeze up like that again (I think).

And at least he didn't just start swearing! Oh my God! Here we have Piao (a geek because he's only kissed one girl and constantly smiled like he didn't know what was going on), who rather than telling jokes just started saying really vulgar things! I thought it was fucking hysterical, simply because he seems like such a shy, geeky guy and you'd never expect it. But they weren't really jokes, so much as really shocking statements, and hey, there's already one Carlos Mencia. I mean come on though, he opened his act by pointing at a guy in the audience and saying, "You look like a guy who knows what good p**** tastes like." Hahaha! That's some funny shit, but the audience definately wasn't prepared for it.

My favorite performance was Nate's, which began my love affair with him. His act was really well thought out and clever. He had this bit about how if he invented allergies he would have given people allergies to big scary things, like tigers and sharks--rather than microbes and particulates. So when you're walking through the jungle and you get a rash, you know there's a tiger around. You're swimming in an ocean and your skin itches, and you know there much be a shark nearby, oh, and I have a rash... it must be a TIGER SHARK! Good stuff. The only way that joke could have been better is if he observed that Tiger Sharks know what good p**** tastes like...

Nate won, obviously. An honorable mention should also go to Mario, who made a joke about Mario Brothers getting in your head when you're getting it on with a girl. It's funny 'cause it's true. Here's the thing about Nate though, I really feel like he was unfairly chosen for the competition. Great guy, but he was already the lead singer of a band, which we later see is very energetic and rockin'. Obviously he would (and did) dominate all the challenges that required being outgoing. I mean, we find out later that stand-up is actually a hobby of his! A good geek's hobbies should include things like: LARPing, latin studies, writing software that calculates the plausability of Star Trek episodes, and chronic masturbation.

The show ended with the little triva challenge part that I don't really care about and don't ever remember, and Sanjay and Tori were sent home.

There was a little montage of their short time in the house that included a clip where Sanjay was screaming wildly in the air while 3 of the girls had their backs turned. It wasn't aggressive though, and they were laughing, so I don't know what the hell was going on. I'll have to check this out. Maybe I'll email him about it. Geeks love email (marc@marinthecity.com).

So concluded "Beauty and the Geek," Season 3; Episode 1: The Vagina Monologues. Check back soon for highlights from Episode 2!

Marc Writes About Walt's Feelings

Walt made it clear that he will not be using his blog to write about his feelings... so I'm going to write about his feelings.

First, Walt feels EXCITED about the new coffee machines on floors 14 and 15. Walt is on floor 14 and has already had 3 cups of coffee today! The 15th floor coffee machine makes all kinds of crazy drinks, including: cappuccino and something called "decadent." After hearing that my floor, floor 16, hasn't yet gotten a coffee-maker, Walt felt SUPERIOR. To which I responded that I feel he should GO "F" HIMSELF.

But generally, in regards to the coffee-makers, Walt feels HAPPY. He does, however, feel A LITTLE BAD about not updating his blog last night. He forgot to do this because we went to Burp Castle last night and had many Belgian beers. He didn't say this specifically, but I could hear in his voice that Walt feels ENTHUSIASTIC about my upcoming Burp Castle post.

So to summate Walt's feelings today:

He feels excited, superior, happy, a little bad, enthusiastic, and may or may not need to go "f" himself.

Kevin Nealon Is Taller Than Most People

Both my boss and my co-worker were astounded at how tall Kevin Nealon is. I wasn't surprised. He was always the tallest one on the SNL cast by far.

I met Kevin Nealon today. He's doing a book with us and we had a champagne toast in his honor. My boss had to get a picture signed for an employee here who is obsessive about celebrity autographs. While he was signing the photo, Kevin (I call him K-von, but don't tell him I told you), told us that the boobs on his head in Little Nicky were really heavy. They were actually filled with "prophylactics" (which means condoms) that were full of water. He said people kept fondling his head all day.

I said, "Did you ever think about just wearing them around on the street?" He said something that I can't recall, and I walked away to re-group. I still hadn't officially met him yet; just stood by the boss and listened to the boob-head story...

When I walked back, I went with Walt (who has a blog, but will not get linked to because he sucks) and we introduced ourselves accordingly. Walt told him he is a fan of everything he does and that he was looking forward to working with his manuscript.

Walt is far cooler than I am.

K-von started talking about how it feels like Friday because everyone is drinking at 3:00 in the afternoon. I said, "I've been saying that all day," which made no sense in the context of the conversation, but I really had been saying it felt like Friday all day. He looked at me like I was an idiot because what I said made no sense and I looked like a kiss-ass (which admittedly I am).

Strike 2.

I never made it to strike 3 because I quickly retreated back to my office. I bought http://www.marcinthecity.com/ to make myself feel better, turned off all the lights, and cried myself to sleep at my desk while listening to Depeche Mode.

Why do you hurt me so bad, Kevin Nealon?

But hey, even if it was at work, that's celebrity sighting #2! The first, for those keeping score, was Zack Galifianakis. I saw him at a subway stop in Soho. He was holding a bag from Crate & Barrel. I have yet to decide if that adds to or takes away from his street cred. I'm leans towards "adds."

New Address

This site can now be accessed at www.marcinthecity.com!

Now it's so much easier to keep up with my sweet ass.

I Might Be Registered to Vote

I ffffound this picture online and thought it looked cool. It's supposed to be political, something about polling or someting, but I just like how it looks. I guess I don't really understand what they're saying, if the blue is "liberal" and the read is "conservative," then what is the significance of the hand being red and that measuring device thing being blue. Are they saying Republicans control the liberal tools that dertimine political polling? I have no idea, I just like the picture.

An Open Letter to the Customer Service Industry in New York City

As anyone who has moved to New York from another city knows, customer service in this city is severely lacking. Maybe it's because everyone in a public service role is constantly surrounded by grossly successful people, or maybe they came here to follow their dreams and failed miserably. Perhaps they're just tired from their massive subway commutes, I don't know, but the fact of the matter is that peeps just aren't as grateful of your business as they should be. Here are some quick tips to the service industry of New York:

1) Try smiling. Studies have shown that smiling, even when you're not happy, will make you happier (by as much as 78%). Just try it. If you can't force a smile right away, try listening to some Loverboy before heading to work, it always puts a smile on my face AND reminds me that I'm not the only one working for the weekend.

2) Banter awkwardly. No one appreciates some quick, awkward banter in a check-out line like me. Some good topics are: the weather, how iPods are getting smaller and smaller, and what that crazy bitch Britney Spears has done lately. Did you hear she drunk dialed K-Fed on her birthday and begged him to come out and he said "someone has to be a responsible parent." Ha! Priceless.

3) Approach me and make me feel welcome. Look, I get that it's cool in New York to be aloof, but shoot, even the guy at Valentino was nice to me, and his success in the high fashion industry is probably directly correlated to how much of a snob he is! What I'm saying is, don't be too cool for your customers, at least try to seem like you care. Much like point number one, if you make the dishonest effort some little gem of decency and good customer service might be uncovered (as much as a ficticious 78%).

4) Would an occasional reach-a-round kill you?


Love always,

Marc

Much Too Much

There are so many pictures from this weekend that I'm sort of overwhelmed by the prospect of creating a new update/several new updates detailing it all. I think it'll have to be a weekend project. That said, here's a picture of "John," who we met at Doc Holliday's. He was born and raised, and currently lives in, Bay Ridge. John is great, and should have his picture everywhere at all times.

Don't Litter

Painting

I pass this painting everyday on the way to work. It sits in the windows of a small frame shop on 55th. I really love it, but am afraid to ask how much it costs.

Camels in Midtown

Today on my walk to work, I saw three camels on the sidewalk of 53rd Street. I don't known how else to say it, so there you go: three camels, hangin' out, in front of the MOMA. And the weirdest part was that the handlers weren't dressed to stand out all, in fact, they looked like lost tourists who happened to have camels. I wish these pictures were better, but I didn't believe what I saw until I passed them.

A block away I overheard someone mention that they were giving away free camel rides down the street. If I wasn't so close to work I would have gone right back... you better believe it.

I'll name him "Picante"

Hahaha! I just had to repost this, it's too funny.