Marc in the City

Found Post - Flight to Newark

2009-03-24T19:00:00.000-07:00

So this is kind of funny, I googled my own name tonight (something I do with astounding regularity) and discovered an old blog post from my first attempt at writing a blog!

Originally, the name of this site was going to be "marcANDthecity.blogspot.com," but I set the project aside for a while and forgot about it. When I picked up writing the blog again I had forgotten all about the previous attempt! That said, I give you the very first (and only) post on marcandthecity.blogspot.com. It's about my move to New York, and the bright-eyed wonder of jaded post-graduate.

Flight to Newark

I just started writing this, but I've been meaning to start chronicling my move to NYC and the impending job search. That said, my posts won't be chronilogically accurate, but I hope that I can weave a cogent timeline about my journey. The long and short of it is that I came here with: 1) no money, 2) no job, and 3) all the passionate naivitae you'd expect from someone who moves to New York with no money and no job.

I landed in Newark, so I could stay in Hoboken for a few days with my good friend Pam, from the University of Denver Publishing Institute. I flew in expecting to sleep on a little patch of floor and was pleasently surprised when she told me her roommate was out of town and I could sleep on his bed! It was a glorious queen size bed with these incredible pillows that I would bet are the kind Brad and Angelina sleep on.

More later... I have to get out of this apartment or I'll go freakin' nuts.

Dunkin' Donuts

2009-02-27T09:27:00.001-08:00

I usually don't go to Dunkin' Donuts. I don't like their coffee and whenever I eat donuts I feel like a big sweaty guy with coffee stains on his short-sleaved, button-down shirt, the one that's white with thin pink stripes. This sweaty guy works in a shitty little gray office and sells insurance over the phone. The office has no windows. As you can see, I've given this image a great deal of thought.

But I realized yesterday that Dunkin' Donuts has muffins. Muffins, of course! I should have known. There's a healthy snack I can enjoy that will fill me up without bringing me down!

Likely as a result of pressure from the FDA, Dunkin' Donuts has recently started putting calorie amounts on all of their products. That said, I was standing in line this morning and noticed that while a single Boston Creme donut is 280 calories, 1 chocolate chip muffin is 680 calories! WHAT?!

What the hell are you putting in those muffins, Dunkin' Donuts? Seriously, don't start serving salads, I don't even know what you'll do to those.

So I got 2 Boston Creme donuts, took them back to my window-less office, and drank some urine-flavored coffee while I looked at spreadsheets and tried to plan out my day.

America Runs on Dunkin'...

Dress Sharp, Look Smart

2009-02-13T11:52:00.000-08:00

I dislike all clothes in all clothing stores I ever go to. Nothing ever looks good, and I have no sense of how things go together. I only look good in the colors: black, dark blue, and oddly, chartreuse. BT-dub, what's the deal with black linen pants? I mean seriously, pants are made out of linen so they're lightweight and breezy, so why would you dye them the hottest, most heat-absorbing color in existence? That's just dumb.

I have a weird frame, a good frame, for shirts (if they fit well); a really fantastic frame that houses a brilliant mind and a lovely set of teeth, but none of that matters to the clothing industry. I have a few shirts that fit me pretty well, but I have one shirt that fits me perfectly. I mean, seriously, it's like it was custom-made for me. I bought it when I was in middle school for a formal dance. It still fits, in fact, I wore it to work yesterday. It's not the best-looking shirt, but it just fits so damn well. I've never in my life found another shirt like it--and I've spent a lot of money searching. Brooks Brothers' shirts don't fit me this well, in fact, those fit me really horribly.

But this isn't constructive, not really at all. I guess I'm just frustrated. Frustrated by black linen pants, and shirts that don't fit well, and pants that tent up when I sit down at meetings. What I want is a good fit without a leopard print, I want a plain black shirt that doesn't look like something I bought at a maternity store. I want H&M to carry clothes that don't look like they're about to fall apart on the rack, I want Diesel to stop going crazy with the stitching, I want The Gap to grow a personality, I want Urban Outfitters to stop being so "indie precious," and I want Dov Charney to shave that stupid mustache.

This is my clothing manifesto. This is the moment when I start wearing jumpsuits everywhere (because you can do anything in a jump suit). Today I vow to be clean, not pretty; to be honest, and not wear superfluous zippers; to be sardonic without being sartorial. Welcome to the first day of the rest of my life, without matching socks.

Playboy Centerfold

2009-02-13T09:04:00.001-08:00

If I were a Playboy Centerfold, these would be the likes and dislikes to accompany the pictorial (along with some other details):

Likes:
- V-Neck T-Shirts
- Serial Dramas
- Cheerful Customer Service

Dislikes:
- Weak Handshakes
- Long Lines
- Bureaucracy

Additional Demands:

I insist on a bear-skin rug, but the bear skin must be Polar, or I walk.

The director must have a mustache, and when he's outside must always wear aviator sunglasses.

At least one picture will feature a sweater-vest (green).

Should the shoot proceed to 7:30pm, I demand a half-hour break to watch Jeopardy.

If Scott Baio shows up to the set, I'm not here and you never saw me.

The only music to be played will be "Basketball," by Kurtis Blow (on loop).

Production Rider:

(2) Boxes of Go-gurt (Blue Berry Blast flavor ONLY)

(1) Diving mask

(1) Pair flippers

(1) Snorkel

(8) Hard-boiled eggs

(1) PAAS decorating kit (NO stickers)

(4) Abyssinian Kittens

(1) Poster of Tracy Morgan wrestling a tiger

(1) DVD box-set of Mr. Show

(2) Other people's long-lost biological parents

Young Americans: Thoughts

2009-02-12T16:39:00.000-08:00

I've realized that it's nigh impossible to watch an episode of Young Americans without making a drinking game out of it. But first, here are some things I've learned from Young Americans.

First, at wealthy all-boys schools there are only two classes: English and Rowing.

Rowing practices are held throughout the day, and are casual to the point where your friends can stop by and have a meaningful conversation with you in the middle of practice.

If you're constantly surrounded by boys and rarely see girls, it's difficult to determine which boys are actually girls wearing boys clothes--though the girl in boys' clothes has an extremely young, feminine-looking face, sort-of breast, and a higher than average speaking voice.

At all-boys schools there is only one teacher. This teacher is responsible for imparting all lessons of an academic nature, and generally about life.

Here's the makeshift drinking game:

+1: When Finn imparts a piece of wisdom to Will.
+1: When you see a boat.
+1: When any character rides a bike.
+1: When someone says the name of a famous writer or philosopher.
+1: When Bella is working on a car.
+1: When the Dean of Rawley Boys Academy is mentioned.
+1: When you hear Will's voice in voiceover form.

+2: When someone quotes a piece of famous writing, or quotes something a famous writer said.
+2: When you see Jake/Jacqueline wearing a bra.
+2: When you see a motorized boat of any kind.
+2: When Scout pines over Bella.
+2: When Will talks about how either he can't believe he's at Rawley, or how lucky he is about being at Rawley, or how Rawley is another world.
+2: When you see any girl other than Jacqueline or Bella.
+2: When you hear the word "scholarship."
+2: When someone sits on a dock.

+3: When any Nick Drake song plays.
+3: When you see any parent of a character other than Will's parents.
+3: When Will doles out wise advice to anyone (including Flinn).
+3: When Flinn tells Will he did a good job at something.
+3: When anyone says the words "New Rawley" together.
+3: When you see the Rawley Girls Academy.
+3: When someone talks about how they are from New Rawley and don't belong up there at Rawley (the school).
+3: When Scout professes his love for Bella (even though she's his sister).
+3: When Jake wears women's clothes.

+4: When Hamilton uses his camera.
+4: When Jake uses a computer.

+5: When you see the Dean of Rawley Boys Academy.
+5: When you see someone with an accent from a foreign country.
+5: When you see a minority.
+5: When someone orders a burger OR a Coke at Friendly's.

Finish the Bottle: When you realize all of these characters are supposed to be fifteen.

Young Americans

2009-02-11T20:04:00.000-08:00

I've decided to start watching Young Americans. It was only 1 season, so I feel like it's not a terribly intense commitment. I just finished the first episode and already there's: incest, cross-dressing, computer hacking, New England sunsets, and test fraud. Man, this show is going to be awesome. I'll keep you posted.

Yell-HO Cab... See what I did there?

2009-02-07T10:13:00.001-08:00

A'ite, I took a cab last night and the card machine wasn't working. So I swiped my card once, then twice, then tried another card, then told him his machine was broken. So the driver resets the machine, I swipe the card again, and it works.

Turns out, this morning when I check my balance, that machine (while it was telling me my card wasn't authorized) was actually charging me every time I swiped it.

So, you know, no big deal. I'll just call the cab company, show them the four charges in immediate succession, and they'll just reverse the charges, right? Nope! Apparently I have to go to court to dispute the charges! In order to file a complaint you have to file a formal complaint, which involves receipt information (cabs never EVER give you receipts), then go to court and testify about how the cab company wronged you.

What the F? How does this make sense? Isn't it a company? Isn't there someone I can call who isn't a call center automaton who would be like, "Oh, this is obviously not right. Here is your money back--beep, boop, boop. Problem solved." This city is just fucking out of control sometimes with its beurocracy and excessive taxes.

On the phone while I talked to the woman telling me I'd have to file a court date I appealed to her sense of logic and she tried transferring me to the actual cab and limosine comission (because apparently the complaint number online doesn't actually go to the cab commision--which they failed to tell me initially). But, of course, the cab and limosine commission call center is only open Monday - Friday... so I'll have to wait until Monday to argue with a bored person on a headset and convince them that they have stolen $45.00 from me.

I can't wait.

How Much Do I Owe the State of New York, Again?

2009-02-04T17:46:00.000-08:00

I did my taxes tonight. Apparently I owe the state of New York $540. For some reason it wasn't being taken out of my paycheck. I don't know if this is the recession or what, but it kind of goes without saying, this was unexpected.

Last year I made money, lots of money, buy a new mattress kind of money. But this year, not so much. My federal refund was $38. This was unhelpful, in fact, I felt like the federal government was mocking me. This was made doubly obnoxious when TurboTax charged me $67 for the pleasure of finding out I owe the government $540 dollars.

Here's the thing, though: what am I paying for? I don't drive, so am I paying for roads? No. I don't partake in any government-funded heathcare facilities, I have insurance. Kids, of course, if I had kids I'd be paying for school funding, and that's a noble cause, right? Oh, but I don't have children. In fact, one of the primary reasons I don't have children is because they cost a lot of money--maybe even more than $540. But Marc, surely you enjoy driving around on public streets in your sweet ride! Nope, no car. I don't drive and I love it, what I don't love is paying public works via the state government for roads and highways that I never use. Give me an intricate series of trails and my $540, and I'll buy myself a dirt bike.

So what am I paying for? Why am I paying these absurd, inflated federal taxes? We deduct for so many things already. Here are some questions TurboTax asked me this evening: Did you have a baby this year? Did you get married? Did you pay college tuition? What is the definition of "peripatetic?"

All of the answers to the above questions were No, aside from the last one. The definition of peripatetic is: (adj.) one who travels or walks from place to place. There's your word of the day.

What's going on with that Obama $2500 stimulus check? The Republicans want tax cuts, and to raise tax credits on home purchases from $7500 to $15000... I've got an idea: how 'bout we get those checks printed up so I can PAY MY TAXES!

Here's another interesting point, one that's less irrationally bitter: If we create a stimulus package that benefits only homeowners, that doesn't trickle over to me. Sure, the banks have money to lend again (hopefully, but I don't necessarily see how tax credits on home purchases do that), and homeowners are doing better, but how does that trickle over to me? Homeowners have more money to spend, they maybe get lower interest rates. But does this plan work under the assumption that the homeowners and banks alone will pull us out of this tailspin? The banks are going to keep lending "fake" money, and if homeowners get that break sure, maybe they'll spend the savings in the country and stimulate the economy...

But hey, hello, lest we forget about Marc in the City, the city that's making him pay $540 in state taxes! Look, what I'm saying, B-rock (if I can call you that), is that you're gonna' lose me to the other side if you don't get this shit handled. I like my money. I like having nice things, and not being in debt, and not having panic attacks when I have to fork over $500.

Why do I keep bringing up that $540? Well, think of it this way: If I was in a car accident and had to pay the hospital $540 before my insurance claim went through (which happens more often than you think), or perhaps my car broke down and the only way I could get to my job so I could make money was to throw down $500 for brakes. Incidentally, both of things have happened to me, actually, the brakes were $800. Luckily I was working in a job that provided me with a good income, and was living in a time when there weren't 800,000/day.

So here's the thing, federal government: you need to get your relationship with the states in order. You let California legalize medical marijuana, then you raid their shops and criminalize the owners. You have a government coffer that takes a bunch of my money, then the state of my residence takes even more. And you know what? I get that. I understand that federal funds are used for bigger things like welfare, and social security, and bombs; and I get that state funds are used for state things: like schools, and roads, and state-operated walk-in clinics, and whatever else. But hey, I know, the government does some good things, and has some good intentions.

Social Security, that's a very nice idea. So is welfare. And you know what, I fucking love the US Postal Service. But due to party bickering and their inability to make any decisions, and due to bad management, and due to the fact that these funds are tied up in so many other government projects that if one falls the others sink. It's a delicate lattice, you could say.

Let me explain that last point: If there's a big pool for social security and there's a big pool for the war on terror and there's a big pool for welfare, the one that holds precedent gets to take money from the other pools. And who decides who gets this money? The administration. No shit, Marc, I already understood that.

How can we divide these pools adequately so they don't bounce back and fourth, F each other up, and generally wreak a bunch of nonsensical havoc? Let's start with me being really honest: I don't want to pay for Jolene's baby over there in Mississippi or wherever. She made some bad decisions and she should deal with them. Then again, Jolene works at Taco Bell and doesn't have insurance? So she's in a pickle, right? Or I am, because I'm paying for her birth, or even abortion for that matter. Well, let's privatize that shit. Corporations work in a competitive market, and the market yields competitive prices that ultimately yield the most economical solution for everyone.

OK, that makes sense. Let's forget John McCain's insane health insurance credit voucher for $10,000 or whatever it was that you could use however you saw fit (my work insurance plan is probably somewhere around $30,000, which very clearly illustrates how ridiculously feeble the McCain plan was--out of touch, etc.). But we're forgetting that. How about we all pay a certain amount of money to the company of our choice and they provide insurance? Well, where does that leave people who can't afford that basic health insurance? Shit happens, people get cancer and cancer doesn't fucking care if you're rich or poor or Rick James or Jolene the Taco Bell employee of the month. So Jolene has cancer now (sorry Jolene), and her privatized insurance plan is the introductory one (the Silver Plan), the one that says you can only have generic medication and co-pays are extravagant. She can only see certain doctors, and only certain medications are covered, because she could only afford the plan that covers flu-shots, and ear infections, and broken arms.

Now here's me, rolling up to the hospital, with (by-God!) the same cancer. But look, I have the Platinum Plan. Let's hook that shit up! Give me the good pain meds, play a movie on the HD while I drink my chemo smoothie and try to get this cancer licked so I can make my 7:30 flight to Prague.

What I'm getting at is that privatizing medical care creates this massive gap between the income brackets, to the point where we have the very very poor being sick, and the very very rich balling it up on a yacht in the Baltic Sea. But Marc, if all the poor people are gone won't we just be left with all the rich people? That sounds great! Survival of the Fittest!

No asshole, someone's got to steer the yacht. Someone's got to prepare the sushi that you're eating off that European supermodel's naked body. Look, all this does is perpetuate an income schism that benefits the rich and punishes the poor. Incidentally, the middle-class, you don't exist anymore... sorry.

So what's left? The government? Of course, the government, they don't care about rich or poor! They don't care if you made $100 or $100,000 dollars last year! But hey government, I already told you, I don't want to pay for Jolene's baby. Hmm... that's a toughy.

Well, Marc, says the government. How do you feel about paying a very small fraction of Jolene's baby, and in return she'll pay a very small fraction of a yet to be determined ailment you have later?

Hmm, tell me more.

Well, see, if we take everyone's couple dollars here and there, we can put it in a big pool. But not just any pool, it's its very own little program, its own little fund that can't be touched by anyone. It applies to everyone, so why don't we call it "Universal Healthcare."

Again, hmm... government, I think that makes sense, but like I said, I don't like the idea of paying for Jolene's baby.

Look, Marc, here's the deal, says the government. Stop being a selfish dick. I get that you work hard for your money, I really do. But ultimately, in the grand scheme of things, this makes sense for you too. See, if Jolene can have her baby, and not have to worry about making ends meet, and struggling to pay bills while feeding her baby, it creates a culture of destruction.

Whoa, government, you're getting a little dramatic.

Hear me out, Marc. Maybe "culture of destruction" was dramatic, but how about: it lowers the mean quality of life. See, if Jolene is constantly struggling it puts a strain on the other entities around her, much like the lattice you described above. If Jolene has relatives, she's going to borrow money from them, or maybe move in with them. Now, because she doesn't have that money she's not buying her own home, she not creating equity for herself.

As a result, she's working hand to mouth and not striving to become more. Maybe she didn't go to college because she was stuck working for her baby. Because she didn't go to college, she didn't get that job with that publishing company where she was a very good employee (would be employee of the month, if they had that sort of thing). She's participating in the global market now, the workforce. She's not pushed down be the inability to pay her bills, but pulled up by the possibility of a future. When we pull Jolene up from the Taco Bell, it pulls everyone like her up too. That's good for you (you Platinum Plan sonuvabitch) because now you have more skilled workers to apply towards your vision of electric cars, or jet packs, or publishing literature that entertains or makes people think in new and interesting ways.

Sure, it's going to be hard for her to go to school and raise a kid, but she can do it--Jolene's a smart girl. In fact, Jolene happens to have an exceptional aptitude for lateral thinking, but you wouldn't find that out if she never learned what lateral thinking was.

But doesn't that mean everyone's taxes go up?

Well... yes. But hey, we kind of already talked about the benefits of that. I get that you're rich, hypothetically wealthy Marc, and I, the government, understand that you don't feel like you should have to pay for a something you could easily find cheaper. The thing is, this is better for all of us in the long run. And someday, when you decide to have that baby, it'll be nice to know that you can keep your wallet in your back pocket, even if you could have thrown down the cash.

But won't people start having babies and doing drugs all the time and not taking care of themselves if the solutions (free birthing/abortions, drug rehab, and lypo-suction/gastric bypass surgery) are readily available?

That's a stupid question.

I think it's a very good question.

OK, here's the deal: People are going to have babies they don't want to have, people are going to do drugs if they want to do drugs, peeps is gonna' eat them Big Macs. But now that drug addict has options and can become a productive member of society once he's off the shit. Rich people don't say "Oh, I'm gonna' get addicted to heroin, then when it gets out of hand I'll just go to the rehab clinic and be cured and look back on the experience as a wild lark." That doesn't happen. Fat-ness is a lifestyle. Look at you. You don't eat a lot of sugar, take the stairs whenever possible, Marc, you run for fun for Christ sake. And I know you like all that greasy food shit. I've seen you eat a burger with a milkshake more than once. But are you going to do that everyday now because you can get bypass surgery whenever you want? No. Fat people (fuck saying "obese," they're fat) have glandular issues, self-control issues, or whatever. People don't choose to be fat. Being fat sucks. You can't go up stairs, or walk very far. Fatness comes with breathing problems, risk of kidney failure, all that fun shit. Let's cure the disease, not treat the symptoms. Maybe if people weren't paying off that un-insured abortion they can start eating organic. They won't, I'm just saying. Being fat is an American thing, OK, let's be honest. You want to stop fatness in America, I don't even know where to begin. But it's not going to get to the point where we're handing out vouchers for stomach stapling with every order of 16-piece original recipe KFC.

Huh. I feel like I'm forgetting something.

If you think of it later we can come back to it.

But, isn't this Socialism?

(sigh) I hate you, Marc.

What? I think that's a fair question. And honestly, didn't you kind of see it coming?

I kind of did, yeah. It's not socialism. Socialism is a label that extremists have put on government programs because it makes everyone think of the USSR. What do you call it when a parent tells their kid to share.

Socialism?

No, parenting. You call that parenting. They're giving their kid the tools they need to be a useful member of society. The parents aren't following their kids to school and distributing blocks equally to everyone, they're just giving an over-arching plan that helps all the kids and creates a better child.

I'm lost.

Let's look at Universal Healthcare, because that's what we're talking about. You and Jolene each pay, let's say, $300/year for this healthcare system, organized and run and operated by the government. Now you go live your life and Jolene, you go live your life. Get a job doing what you love, go to school, look up that cute boy you went to high school with, meet for coffee, flirt a little, fool around in your one-bedroom, and marry. Fuck, I don't care. And when Jolene and that kid from high school need shots for their baby, here I am, the government, to give the kid his shots. You're not a number, and you're not a faceless citizen. You never will be, because I understand that that's tyranny, that's totalitarian bullshit.

I know, "well government, if you think everyone should pay the same amount into a large coffer and they're all equal and all that, what happens when you start dictating where people should work? Where manpower should be best allocated? When do you take over corporations and start paying everyone equally for the same amount of work, and you become the Gulag?"

Here's the thing, Marc. That's not going to happen. There's that part in the constitution that talks about citizens rebelling against a crooked government. If you want to go with that argument you can. Otherwise, here's another one. I'm not going to lose sight of democracy, that's the difference between me and the Soviet Russia. I understand capitalism, and competition is necessary. I hate to say this because it's kind of an easy argument, but look at Sweden! Shit, those people are happy, they elect their own officials and have universal healthcare, and they're doing just terrific. If you're rich, you're still going to be rich. Shoot, Steve Forbes, you can stand to pay $300/year or whatever. Let's not talk about percentages and tax bracket payments and all that because it'll complicate things. And after you pay that $300/year you're not going to be poor, you're still going to be one of the wealthiest people in the world. I'm not going to swoop down and surreptitiously steal all your money. Stop being an extremist. I can be extreme. How about I start calling you and Pat Buchanan and all the other Republicans "Conservative Fundamentalists?" Sounds pretty harsh, right? Well... fuck you.

You're not a very good speller, government.

I hear that all the time.

I guess I kind of understand the value of taxes now. They have the potential to do great things for people. My wrist surgery cost me thousands of dollars (and my parents--they definitely paid a lot of that--thank you). These were dollars I could have used to pay off my credit cards, or go out to dinner more, and generally stimulate the economy. That massive medical bill not only effected me, but my family, and all the businesses that would have benefited from my hated of cooking and borderline alcoholism.

So, the $540... are we good?

NO! Fuck no! Are you kidding me? Look, government, all that stuff you said about Universal Healthcare, and the general good of taxing for certain things, that made plenty of sense to me. But here's the thing, I'm not reaping any benefits from it. It's like I said before, the state of New York charged me an absurd amount of money and helped me how? Honestly, how has my quality of life improved in New York because of these taxes. I still live in a pretty shitty apartment for how much I pay, and my streets are covered in dog shit all the time. I'm willing to pay my share, I ride the subway, I put trash out, but $540? Our school system is fucking awful, one of the worst in the world. I sound like a snob saying that, but it's bad. I should be able to speak French now. I should be able to multiply three-digit numbers together in my head. I should understand basic Physics principles. But I don't. That's not to mention the federal taxes I paid, thanks for the $38 back, btw.

Look, let me break this down for you, old school. Government, let's just call you "Obama," because it's short than G-o-v-e-r-n... you get the idea. You took the keys to this car crash of a country and got a raw deal, I get that. You want to be a uniter, not a divider, sure. Everybody should love everybody, let's make an orgy of ideas where everyone gets their swerve on, whatever. But now you're holding up your stimulus package because you want Republi... I mean, Conservative Fundamentalist support?

I read, I know that the mortgage crisis was actually more the liberals fault than anyones, but you know what wasn't--Iraq. You know what wasn't--Afghanistan. You know what wasn't--The destruction of social security, welfare, and several other programs that the government said were valuable and were tossed away like trash. You're the boss now, baby, and don't let my casual words dilute the powerful meaning behind them. You know who fucked up the country, the people you're trying to gain support from. So get under the hood, roll up those elephant sleeves and tinker around for a while, start the engine, and let's take this sonuvabitch for a drive. What they did wasn't working, but you control the House, the Senate, and the White House. The White House, to be honest, isn't necessarily the most powerful entity of those three, in fact, it's probably the least powerful because the White House doesn't vote for shit. The White House doesn't pass bills, or stimulus packages.

I'm getting off track. Scroll up, look at universal healthcare; let's just say it, look at all those things the Republics call socialism. It's your game now, you're the implement of change. The reason I'm pissed off about the $540 isn't because I don't know where it's going, it's that I know where it is going. I know it's going to a lot of bickering, a lot of things that are the product of two parties who are unable to understand each other. So that's why you want to be a uniter, not a divider. But here's a little piece of cynical, but honest advice: that's. never. going. to. fucking. happen. You know who could pull out of the recession? Santa Claus.

The best you can do, use the chance you got. Make changes that you know are good. And make those changes so good and so right and so beneficial to the general population that when you're out of office no one would dare reverse them. Make 'em think taking away the things you created are tyranny, that's how you're going to enact change, and that's how you're going to bring people together. Use those four or eight years to muscle your liberal agenda through the country, because God knows that's what the Republicans did for eight years. For god sake, don't just nance around and get everyone to hold hands, fucking fight. And when you do, I'll gladly pay my $540.

Comic-Con

2009-02-04T06:09:00.000-08:00

Marc in the City is going to Comic-Con!

2009, year of embracing my inner-geekdom!

Hollaaaaaaa!

25 Things You Didn't Know About Me

2009-01-30T13:46:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of Facebook's latest meme, here now are 25 things you probably didn't know about me:

25) I am allergic to horses, but still I find them to be noble and majestic creatures. Much like Manatees.

24) I played bass in Dire Straights from the years 1984-1986.

23) For years I wore my hair in a high-top fade style, until I saw House Party II and felt like I wasn't properly representing it.

22) In middle school I wrote a sequel to Everyone Poops called, Everyone Occasionally has Diarrhea.

21) My middle name is Elizabeth.

20) As a child, I had an imaginary friend that resembled the Sinclair Dinosaur, but he resented being compared to a gas station mascot, so we rarely discussed it.

19) I can see fourteen minutes into the future if I spin around really fast... counter-clockwise. I know, weird, right?

18) Sometimes at night I wake up screaming, but I always scream: "Here I am, Rock you like a Hurricane!"

17) When hippopotamus are upset, their sweat turns red. This ones not about me, but I thought it was interesting.

16) If I could have one super-power, it would be the ability to take away people's super-powers. If I can't have them, no one will.

15) I have yet to see any evidence that kangaroos exist.

14) In grade school my nickname was "Chompers." This wasn't because of my buckteeth but because I was so good at sports some people called me "Champers," and it was misheard by a few kids who started calling me Chompers... yeah...

13) If I could be anyone, alive or dead or fictional, I would be Richard Simmons; 'cause that guy gets all the chicks.

12) Sometimes I spell "business," "Bisness;" and sometimes I spell "steel," "steal;" but I never spell chrysanthemum wrong.

11) Had I been born a bird, I would teach myself to fly backwards. Then, when people say, "Hey! Look at the bird flying backwards!" I could respond, "Looks like I'm a bird of a different feather!" And we'd all have a good laugh.

10) In college I wrote, my daily assignments in, awkward haiku form.

9) I fain ignorance when asked where the bathroom is, but only when asked in English.

8) Politics confuses me, so years ago I learned everything I could about the Iran-Contra scandal so I had something to talk about at parties... I need to find something more topical.

7) I was the third man on the grassy knoll.

6) With a mustache, I look exactly like Don Cheadle.

5) For a summer I had a job custom painting custom vans. Needless to say, I'm now really good at airbrush-painting breasts and dragons.

4) I have a tattoo on the back of my right knee, and a tattoo on my left shoulder. When they are put side-by-side they reveal the secret location of The Lost City of Atlantis.

3) I never use flour when I cook, but I almost always use flour when I play cribbage.

2) Mini-golf courses around the country have banned me for excessive jubilation and moderate body odor.

1) I am a robot sent from the future. Does anyone know where I can find a boy named "John Connor?"

An Ode to My Former Geekiness

2009-01-30T11:38:00.000-08:00

I recently wrote in a newsletter that my New Year's resolution for 2009 is to embrace my inner-geekiness. I've started this process by reading a memoir about a kid growing up in England who's obsessed with Dungeons & Dragons. I've tried recently to read Lord of the Rings, and while I would love to finish it, I'm finding it hard to get through. I think I've just grown too fond of books that are grounded in reality. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, it's just a hindrance in the pursuit to accept the fact that I probably would have played Magic in middle school, if given the opportunity.

I need to buy a new computer, which opens up a whole other dynamic of my as-yet-fully-unleashed nerd-dom. See, when I was in high school I was kind of a computer geek (points already for early adoption!). This was mainly because my dad was really into computers, and at the time it was really chic for guys who didn't play sports to know about computers... so maybe I don't win points. Anyway, I remember a time when everyone knew the speed of their computer processor. I recall a conversation with someone in the hall once where I said the phrase: "300 MB processor? That's just excessive." Now I couldn't even tell you how fast my computer is. All I can tell you about my computer now is that it's shitty, and I need a new one. Thus, I need to buy a computer. I have a vague understanding of what's good to have when buying a computer, but that's counter-acted by the fact that I'm looking at Macs because they're pretty, and play music well... high school Marc would not get along with 25-year-old Marc.

Getting back to my original point, this resolution was spawned on New Year's Eve while watching the first half of the second Lord of the Rings movie. I legitimately enjoyed it like I had never previously allowed myself to. I don't think I'm ever going to remember what those tree people are called, but I might go back and watch the movies again... in HD... then with director's commentary. Or not, who knows?

But this all isn't just to say that I didn't embrace some modicum of geek aptitude. I loved Star Trek in high school, and still do. I used to watch two hours of it every day after school--they played The Next Generation in a two hour block every afternoon at 4:00. I liked Star Trek so much that I collected the trading cards, even though I didn't know how to play the card game that they accompanied. I just treated them like other kids treated baseball cards. I knew all the characters, all the items, and remembered the episodes the cards were from. I got a thrill from going through those card value magazines and watching my "Future Worf" card go up 12 cents. But like I said, I never played the game. I guess that was the line I drew. Distant appreciation without participation.

The truth is, I wonder sometimes if that was my destiny. That sounds overly dramatic. Let's put it this way, I wonder sometimes if that was an identity I would have confided in, where my world could have been passionately revolved around fantastical characters and settings. Later I would have gotten into comic books, and started playing those really exhaustive board games that have story lines, and background information about the characters, and take ten hours to finish. Maybe I would have watched less TV and in turn had an attention span that lasts more than 10 minutes now. Michael Chabon loved comic books, so have a lot of successful authors who credit them with teaching them how to tell a compelling story.

I'm getting off track. Do I have regrets though? No, not at all. I think there are lots of roads we can all go down, whether it be running cross country, or nerding it up in someone's basement, or doing a bunch of drugs and becoming a junkie at the age of 15. For all of the missed opportunities and hours wasted watching Star Trek without fully adopting the culture, I know I gained other opportunities and spent the remainder of my time doing things of a broader scope outside of the realm of Sci-Fi fantasy. Did you know I used to fence? It's true. That's just one of the many odd and varied hobbies I've adopted in the past. And I never would have ever done that had I developed a singularly-focused affinity for this one type of past time.

An argument can be made that the level of satisfaction is equal if not greater when you're keyed into one specific thing like fantasy gaming; or baking; or learning awesome ninja skills, but that just wasn't for me. I could list several factors that I think kept me from choosing one particular thing, but the truth is, it was my decision to keep a high-level view of all those types of things--that just fit my personality.

It fit my personality like the Mithril shirt recovered from the dragon Smaug and given to Bilbo Baggins by Thorin Oakenshield. Bam!

An Open Letter To My Old Web Address

2009-01-25T18:51:00.000-08:00

So I let "marcinthecity.com" expire. It was a clear symbol of my neglect for the blog and I took it as such. I actually tried to renew it (it's only $10/year), but godaddy.com was acting all weird and wasn't working, so I said "F this, I'm going solo!" I actually said that, in my bedroom, all by myself... and with exactly the kind of zealous bravado you would expect from someone who says "F this, I'm going solo!" alone in their bedroom.

I just finished watching every episode of The L Word, seasons 3 up to the present (season 6, episode 1). It was a dramatic roller-coaster of a weekend. It occurred to me that maybe I like TV so much because my life is so boring, so in relation, instead of living my own boring life I can vicariously live through the most dramatic and exciting parts of 7 other people's lives! I guess that's exactly the kind of escapism TV hits at, and I'm not ashamed to say that I fall for it every time.

I only left my apartment this weekend to go shopping and rent DVDs. The good people at Videology know my as "that sad guy who is obsessed with The L Word." Maybe they think I'm renting it and watching it in bed all weekend with a significant other, or something--and give me the benefit of the doubt for being a romantic, and not a shut-in. Sadly, I am the latter, not the former.

And I think I have an ear infection. Who, over the age of six, gets an ear infection? Apparently Marc in the City.

I went grocery shopping for the third time this weekend at an upscale natural food store and it made me feel like an adult. I bought some of those soups that come in boxes, and soy milk, and wasabe edamame and prunes and almonds in those little over-priced plastic containers. The guy behind the counter was wearing these hilarious D&G sunglasses that read "D&G" in big gold letters on the side. He was otherwise all greezy, and swinger-y, and I got the impression he was the sun of a wealthy oil baron in the middle east who was forced to come to America because his lavish lifestyle of excess kept embarrassing the family in Dubai. So he packed up his horrible Gucci, print shirts and flew to Brooklyn, where he found work at a little over-priced grocery store. Who knows.

I took a nap at 5: 30 and woke up around 9:00. I guess I needed a break from all my intense loafing. It's weird, you know, how you watch all that TV and get so wrapped up in the lives of these characters and then suddenly you have to exercise some restraint and wait until the next episode is released. Then the series is over (The L Word is on its last season now, just started). It's times like these when I think I should have gone into television writing. I read all the time, but I wasn't a bookworm growing up. TV was my sibling for god sake. Whatever, we'll see where life takes me. You know, I just don't want to be one of those people with the "good job" who never really does anything significant.

And, of course, that's all relative, you know? Like, I've already done lots of things that a few people think are significant (that I won't list here because that would be super lame), but there isn't an over-arching sort of track for accomplishment, you know? Even Ivy-league school attenders and doctors and whatever, they're just members of a big elite club, but it's still a club with thousands of faceless members.

I was looking at plane ticket prices on Expedia today, thinking about taking some kind of vacation (I haven't taken a real, vacation for vacation-sake since I was a Sophomore in high school). Incidentally, my family NEVER went on vacations when I was a kid, which is fine, I just find that people think that's weird so I thought I'd mention it. Anyway, I kept finding these package vacation deals that were, like, $500 for flight and 4 nights in a hotel at some local, and I thought "Hey, that's a really great idea." But then I thought, "no, wait a second, I don't want my vacation to be packaged up and marketed so easily to me." It has a certain drone quality, like some marketing team is like, "We will create this fun place, X number of people will go. If we get Z number of consumers to attend we make Y profit." It seems devoid of any kind of personal fulfillment. Like those Club Meds (are those even still around?), or cruise ships. I hate the idea of cruise ships, by the way. I can see how they're fun, but something about being on a boat in the middle of no where with all the amenities of a crazy vacation to enjoy doesn't seem fun to me. I'd rather find what I want on land, go somewhere interesting, and not deal with a bunch of tourists that make me feel like I'm on the "Fun version of New York" floating in the middle of the ocean, floating on the ship among an ocean of the faceless brood I see every. single. fucking. day. in. the. city. Only this time they're wearing lays.

Maybe I'll go to LA. LA, for all my bitching about thinking it's phony, and dry, and kind of ugly, it's always held this sort of mystical, promised land quality for me. Maybe because that's where all the entertainment I obsess over is created. Maybe because it's the west coast, so I know everything will be brand new and comfortable. Maybe I just like the freedom to by a jug of Early Times in the grocery store (and get a Ralph's discount on it, no less). Maybe I miss warm weather, and seeing colors other than grey (even though LA is just orange, if I remember correctly).

I've been trying to write lately but shit got real about a week ago and I haven't felt like it. I've got about 100 pages of a first draft finished, but whenever I read it I feel like I need to fix it before I move on. I'd be too embarrassed to let anyone read it in the state it's in now. First drafts are meant to be bad, but every time I read one of my first drafts I'm convinced anyone reading it would think I'm a hack. Not even a hack, but someone who doesn't deserve a degree in writing. And for all the appendices you make for the bad-ness of a first draft, they can't make up for the actual quality of the writing. I learned a long time ago no one gives a shit about what you say, it's what you do that means anything to anyone. Maybe that's why I keep moving. Because there's no surer sign of moving forward than moving hundreds of miles away.

But hey, how about I just step back, take that vacation I was talking about, and re-assess. These Cheez-its are getting to my head and I'm in serial drama withdrawals. We'll talk more later.

-Marc

No, Songsmith... No.

2009-01-13T18:10:00.000-08:00

I haven't read Gawker in a while, so I decided to check up before going to bed tonight and found this truly wretched commercial made by Microsoft. It's to promote a new software program called "Songsmith" and the ad is so terrible I'm actually angry now. Seriously, I'm angry that this was made and people spent money on this, I'm angry that the person who approved this entire project along the way probably gets paid ten times what I do, and I'm furious at how unbelievably out of touch a company with such bountiful resources has once again proved they can be. Honestly, what the shit is going on over there? I'm not an advertising person, but I'm not a film producer either but I know Howard the Duck was bad. I don't even want to post the link to the commercial, but if you don't see it you'll just think I'm being irrational. That said, here is the 4 minutes and change reason that I am going to bed angry tonight. Seriously, I'm in a bad place right now, Microsoft, and it's all your fault. It's a similar feeling to that of when I heard NBC's boy genius (wild sarcasm), Ben Silverman, was bringing back remakes of both Knight Rider and The Bionic Woman... NBC, Microsoft... you're on notice.

http://gawker.com/5130701/microsoft-ad-and-product-advertised-could-both-conceivably-make-you-want-to-kill-your-family

The Karate Kid

2009-01-04T17:37:00.000-08:00

Quick thoughts on the Karate Kid trilogy before the NyQuil kicks in, which could be any minute.

1) The girl in the third movie gets kicked in the stomach by a bunch of psychos who break into "Mr. Miyagi's Little Trees" shop and attack Michael. Though it's awful enough that she gets kicked at all, things are made worse/more non-sensical when she keeps hanging out with Daniel! Later in the movie she is almost left in a canyon to drown, almost tossed off a rock face into said canyon onto rocks, accosted by a sleezy dude in a club, and probably several other things I'm forgetting.

2) And while we're talking about the female supporting characters in the series, Elizabeth Shue fails to make an appearance past the first movie! Sure, that's fine, but the way the writers get rid of her is just so sudden and strange that it completely undermines her role in the first movie. Apparently she borrows Daniel's car, wrecks it, then tells him she's fallen in love with a football player... what? Wow, strong conviction of character. Another thing I think is fascinating about Elizabeth Shue is that she's gotten more and more beautiful as she'd gotten older. Seriously, I get that the 80s style is probably unconsciously dissuading me, but still, Shue is so much better looking 20 years later in Leaving Las Vegas and Hamlet 2.

3) Starting to get drowsy, so I'll wrap up here. The endings of the movies are so sudden. At the end of the third (the TRILOGY ending, mind you), Daniel wins the karate championship and the screen goes to black. What happened to the rich bad guy with the nuclear waste dumping business (really, that character really exists). I expected, with all his obvious law-breaking, he would have been arrested at the end. I guess if you add cops to the plot of the Karate Kid movies nothing really makes sense anymore. Shoot, seriously though, give me some Afterward!

Bush Pardons

2008-12-25T09:12:00.000-08:00

Here's a list of all of George W. Bush's presidential pardons thus far. I think it's interesting to note that money-related crimes, firearms-related crimes, and marajuana-related crimes seem prevalent.

That's even more interesting when you consider the case of Martin Conestag Thermopolous who was arrested in 1981 for falsifying out-of-state firearms sales paperwork while simultaneously posessing marajuana with intent to distribute. Thermopolous still has yet to be pardoned.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_people_pardoned_by_George_W._Bush

Tapirs

2008-12-08T08:50:00.000-08:00

Cute or Terrifying?

NPH, Fantastic As Always

2008-12-07T21:52:00.000-08:00

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

Kicks

2008-11-29T21:18:00.000-08:00

That title could also be used for a post about sneakers, which is a plausible post topic for me as well. But this post is about the kicks I get on about certain things (like, sneakers, for example)...

I get on these weird kicks where I just get completely obsessed with something to an insane degree for a couple of weeks then I forget all about it and move onto something else. Usually they're about food, but sometimes the kicks are hobbies. I was on this big corndog kick for a while where I bought big boxes of corndogs and ate, like, four of them a day for about three weeks. Then I got on this milk kick where I wanted to drink a glass of non-fat milk with everything. It just always sounded good and delicious and satisfying. Right now I'm really into Froot Loops. They're delicious, and the left over milk is all flavorful and great too.

For a while I was in to blogging, then that wained. I got into painted and haven't done that in a while. When I was in high school I got completely obsessed with current research regarding quantum teleportation. That was kind of a long one, then one day I was just like "nope, don't care about that anymore!"

And while I think part of it is an inclination to move on and try new things, and part of it is necessity, as keeping all of those interests would eventually distract from everything else in your life and you'd spend 5 minutes a day doing about 1000 different little quirky things. But I like to think some of the kicks I just sort of temporarily put on the back-burner and they're not completely forgotten. Like painting, I still have the paint, and think about it, but I'm doing other things right now. Where as quantum teleportation is probably something I won't start looking into again--at least not in the foreseeable future.

So, if you ever want to know just a little bit of introductory knowledge about: turntables, Japanese cars, mountain bikes, baking, building your own furniture, tee-ball, competitive diving, professional wrestling, French childrens books from the 18th century, or croquet, give me a call. Or if you have a new and interesting hobby that I could really enjoy for a relatively short amount of time, those suggestions are not only welcome, but encouraged.

Some Words

2008-11-26T16:11:00.000-08:00

Here are some words I like:

Esophageal
Syphilitic
Alternatively
Conversely
Extemporaneous
Languor
Vitriolic

My New Album

2008-11-26T14:10:00.000-08:00

I'm not musical, and I'm the first person to admit that. I think I have rhythm and all that, but I never took the time to learn an instrument. My mother played the clarinet for years, and my father is pretty much a natural at anything he picks up. As long as it makes a sound, he can figure out how to play it inside of 10 minutes. Most notably, he plays guitar really really well. But probably the most shining display of his musical talent, to me, was when we had a piano in the house. During high school I got this wild hair and decided I needed to learn how to play the piano. So my mom rented a piano and signed me up for lessons with this horrible old woman down the street. As I struggled to pull myself away from the instant gratification of TV and practice, my dad would sit at the piano and compose actual songs, with chords and notes and everything IN HIS HEAD. Needless to say, it was endlessly demoralizing--which isn't to say it wasn't impressive.

That said, if I ever did put out an album of banjo music or whatever, I would call it "Live-blogging My Loneliness," and I would put this picture on the cover:

Then I'd just wait for the Gawker stories to roll out. I'd reach fameball status, date one of those self-publicizing talking heads who's marginally famous for divulging personal aspects of her life publicly. I'd decide to quit the banjo and take up the harpsichord, then I'd give up the harpsichord to start a new band with a chubby Puerto Rican guy I met at the Brooklyn Brewery, then I'd give up music altogether and start writing poety. I'd get really into fashion but ignore my personal hygiene so essentially I'd look like a homeless person that Hugo Boss felt sorry for. I'd get married, to the talking head, and we'd have a child. Then we'd divorce and she'd get custody because I would have a nasty drinking problem that makes me difficult to be around but I would be convinced makes me more fun at parties. After I shave my head, I'd hire a life couch who winds up being a fraud and taking the remainder of my savings. In a moment of desperation I'd re-visit the banjo and after a week of delirium tremors that make it hard to play right, I'd start writing new songs. I'd get back into the studio and do tracks with guest stars like Tony Bennett, Lucinda Williams, and Ludicrous. At the age of 30 I'll look 45, but I'll do a string of self-important interviews about how I found Jesus because Jesus is more marketable than spontaneous self-improvement. Ultimately, "Live-blogging My Lonliness" would make it to China, where the citizens would listen to its message, realize their value as an angry mob, and would initiate a mass-exodus out of the country into Japan, France, Hawaii, and Alaska (respectively). My child will call a lawyer named "Chet" daddy. Chet will be flamboyantly gay but will convince everyone that he's straight by marrying my ex-wife and taking an interest in muscle cars. My child will attend a private school, the same one Chet went to as a boy. I'll send birthday cards with large checks that have outrageous messages written in the memo line. Chet, for all his fraudulent malingering, will be a better father-figure for the boy, and I will never appeal for custody. Incidentally, David Cassidy will sue me for fraud, and I will appeal when he wins and I have to award him $412,000 dollars for not upholding my contractual agreement to appear in his Las Vegas spectacular at the Bellagio. My last day on earth will be spent drinking beer on my next door neighbor's shed. I'll get a sunburn and I'll have little sunglass lines around my eyes. I will go to my ex-wife's condo and ask if the boy is around. I'll give him my banjo and tell him to play it when he feels like live-blogging. He'll ask me what live-blogging is and I'll tell him it was a disease from the early 2000's where self-important assholes would watch "Top Chef" and feel personally invested to the point where their opinion matters to people other than themselves. I will summarize by saying it was a lot like syphilis. When I get home I'll rub aloe all over my body and sit in my favorite rocking chair. With my last breath I'll say "chrysanthemum," because that was the name of my childhood sled, and I'll disappear because none of this ever happened.

2 Days in Scranton

2008-11-26T13:35:00.000-08:00

Just got back from a business trip in Scranton, PA. Saying I was on a "business trip" makes me sound like I'm trying to sound all adult and responsible and important and cool, but the truth is, I'm just trying to be clear. I don't want anyone to think I was in Scranton, PA on vacation.

Whatever, Scranton is like every other small town. I didn't see much of it, not that there was much to see, but I'm sure there are nice parts. I think I've fallen victim to an intrinsic snobbery toward all towns smaller than my hometown, which is larger than most towns to begin with. I think I just like having options, having the capability to have whatever I want when I want. In a small town you lose that, the security you feel in knowing that if you want to see a new movie you don't need to worry if it's at the theater in your area. Maybe security is the wrong word, maybe freedom is a better word. Yeah, I think it is.

I can't tell you how anxious I was to turn 21. Not because I was all keyed up to start drinking legally, to be honest, drinking was much more fun when it was illegal. I was really looking forward to being able to go wherever I wanted. Being of shy mind and spineless body, I constantly worried that I would walk into a place to sit down and write or whatever and someone would come over and tell me I'm too young to be there. That kind of weird confrontation stood as a constant source of anxiety to pre-21-year-old Marc.

When I turned 25 I got excited about being able to rent a car, but not really. I'd rented cars in the past. When my Subaru was stolen the insurance company gave me a rental, which was nice, but it didn't supply me with any sort of rebellious sensation of freedom beyond my years. I went to high school next to a freeway on-ramp. I'd sit in class and daydream about getting on the freeway and just driving away. I'd half-listen to Mr. Norton's lecture on To Kill A Mockingbird and wonder if tomorrow would be the day I'd take that wide turn and drive off down I-90. But by the time I was 25 I lost that sensation.

Because when you're in your mid-twenties you find new and interesting ways to escape like that. This isn't a segue into why I love crack cocaine or anything, I'm just saying as you get older you gain more power over your environment. I know now that I could buy a plane ticket and move across the country tomorrow if I wanted--could completely uproot my life entirely in the blink of an eye. I could rent that car, drive to Nevada, get a fake ID and fall off the grid. But it's like drinking, once it's acceptable it's not as interesting. It goes from being rebellion to being personal choice. Pulling onto the on-ramp before school was a statement about being confined in the trappings of my own melodramatic adolescent life as much as it was actual escape.

After 18 you make the life decision to smoke. At 21 you choose whether or not to go into bars and drink. You graduate college, it's now your choice to move away and chase a dream or get a job and fade into obscurity.

So what am I getting at? I suppose I have to conclude this post with some poignant single sentence that will make you see what a clever person I am. But let's be honest. I started typing because I was bored and wound up with a diatribe about whatever this was. Maybe a couplet? Ok, a couplet:

Just the possibility of you reading my blog makes me happy,
And when I see that I only have 5 comments I feel very crappy.

No, I don't want you to feel obligated to write comments, that was just the first thing that came to mind. Maybe I should end my posts with a diamante. At least then I wouldn't have to rhyme. Or maybe I'll just cut off the posts where I feel like it, after all, I write about whatever I want. I don't know, there's a weird compulsive neuron floating around my brain that makes me feel like I have to conclude things.

I'll leave you with something interesting I've discovered about myself, rather, that I discovered years ago but have never been able to change and I fear people think it's just me being pretentious:

I spell "theater" like "theatre" and "gray" like "grey." These spellings just make more sense to me, they're what come out when I'm typing phrases like "The carpet in the theatre was grey." This isn't because I want people to think I'm sophisticated or that maybe I am English (for whatever reason), it's just how I've always spelled them.

So when I write you a note that reads: "Hey, I decided to go for a run today, it was grey out and looked like it would rain. I ate some of your peanut butter, sorry." You should know that I'm conveying a straight-forward message with absolutely no sub-text, other than that I love peanut butter enough to steal it.

Voting in Bay Ridge

2008-11-09T08:26:00.000-08:00

It's Election Day in America, can you feel it? I mean, like, it was Election day a little while ago, and did you feel it then? Ugh, I felt so confident about that intro before I wrote it out... obviously I'm a little rusty, give me a second...

As I write this post about the American election I think it's entirely too funny and ironic that I'm listening to a french song called "Beaucoup Beaucoup" by Sylvie Lalibert. It's funny and ironic because our current, soon to be not current, President hates the French because they hate Democracy: American Style - Big D, Big A.

I'll start at the beginning, because no one ever went wrong starting at the beginning of a story. Incidentally I'm a little distracted because it's gorgeous in Brooklyn today. Seriously, the sun is shinning and we have a light reprieve from the gray, rainy, horror (I like to spell it "whore-er") that was the last week or so.

My journey begins whilst I sat in my office on the 15th floor in Midtown. I received an email about Proposition 8 and immediately became concerned about where I will vote three days in the future. Obviously I have no say in the not passing of Proposition 8, but it got me all worked up that people who would vote for such a proposition probably already knew where they were voting. When I called the office they informed me that I was, in fact, registered to vote in New York City, but that I failed to change my address information in time, which meant that I had to vote in my old voting area: Bay Ridge.

When I heard this I dropped the phone, I had a panic attack, I cried a single tear and called my mom. It's just so far away! As I've said numerous times, I don't dislike Bay Ridge, it's just so fucking far away. Voting in Bay Ridge is like wanting a cup of coffee in Midtown and choosing to go to a Starbucks in the West Village to get it. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Starbucks, it's an international coffee chain that has about 1000 locations surrounding you, regardless of your location, at any given moment. That's why that analogy is funny.

So I took the morning off and prepared to make the trek down to B. Ridge: across from Staten Island, on the way to Coney Island. I was originally going to wake up at 6:00 and try to get to work on time, but then I realized that if I woke up early and arrived to find that the polls weren't yet open I would feel like an ass. So I slept in until 8:00.

When I left the apartment I knew I would need coffee. I always need coffee, so this was an obvious realization that shouldn't even fall into the category of insight. It should just be fact, like, I know when I wake up I'm going to need to put on pants. Yet still, I deliberate every morning on whether or not I'm going to spend that $1.50 on a cup of sugary, delicious deli-style coffee.

Because my usual place was out of the way, I stopped by a different deli to get my coffee. I was immediately put off by their use of Styrofoam cups. Additionally, when I pulled back the lid tab I realized that it wasn't easily removable. Typically, I tear these tabs off and throw them in the nearest available refuse bin, but this particular lid was impossible to remove. Because it was early, and I was shaky, and cold, and tired, I had a little Parkinson's moment and spilled coffee all over my hand. Damn you weird Styrofoam coffee cup, what is your deal?!

Covered in coffee, still shaky and cold and lonely and tired and scared in a world of bright lights and loud noises, I walked into a bodega to get a napkin. Inside there was a large group of men speaking excitedly in Spanish at 9:00 in the morning, which seemed out of place to me. Who is that animated and excited at the un-godly hour of 9am? I immediately revisited that wish that I knew Spanish that I have occasionally when walking through my neighborhood. Eaves-dropping is, like, my favorite thing ever. I love it so much I'm thinking about learning another language just to do it more effectively.

Incidentally, does anyone remember that movie D.A.R.Y.L, about the kid who's a robot?

Inside the bodega the elderly man behind the counter tears off a paper towel for me, and sends me on my way. I walked to the J train, got on, and proceeded unmolested to Manhattan, where I switched to the N train. The whole train ride part of this story is pretty boring, so I'll just skip to when I got to Bay Ridge. I think there were interesting people on the train, something crazy happened, and there are particular instances that I'm leaving out that were really absurd and hilarious, but I don't remember any of them... so yeah...

When I got off at the 86th street stop I looked over my shoulder and re-familiarized myself with the most over-priced little Chinese market that resides inside of the 86th subway stop. It doesn't have a name, but they sell hand-made knit caps and have a boundless selection of pornography for purchase.

Above ground there was massive construction that tore up the road next to the subway stop. I don't really know what the purpose of the construction was or anything, but something about road construction always gives me a little pang of excitement. Like, OK, so they're tearing up the road and they're going to replace it and make it smooth and better, or they're going to add another lane or something, right? These are big changes! These are things that actively make the community better, make driving easier! These are changes that facilitate the efficient movement of traffic, that get people to work faster! That ease stress and build community! These are your tax dollars at work!

Carried by the promise of a new day, I stalwartly walked to my voting destination. As I passed Century 21 I thought about buying boxer briefs, because you can never have too many pairs of underwear, and they're practically giving them away at Century 21's prices! But I kept it in my pants and walked past... I kind of wish I bought some boxer briefs, or some v-neck t-shirts, or at least a set of decorative candles. Incidentally, it looked like Century 21 was adding another level to their already massive store! So, you know, that's pretty dope.

On my way to the polling station, voting location, whatever it's called, I stopped by the old apartment. I saw that Meg has hung some Tibetan prayer flags, which is a nice touch. It also helps me distinguish my old window in the picture below, which is also appreciated.

When I arrived at the post office, that I was certain was my voting location (it would have been foolish to write down the address!) a nice mentally-challenged custodian informed me that there were not, in fact, any voting machines at this location. I asked him if he knew where the nearest voting location was, as I knew it was really close to where I used to live. He said he did not, continued to mop, and somehow kept me rapped up in a conversation about me being lost. I honestly don't know how it happened, but we wound up talking and conversing about nothing for an inordinately long time.

As I walked down the street in the direction I thought was correct, I noticed a pair of signs in the window of a local hardware store. The signs were hand-made in Microsoft Paint and printed on what was likely a Hewlitt-Packard 350PW home color printer. If you cannot make out the picture below, one sign simply reads: McCain/Palin. The other sign: NObama. See what they did there? They added an "N" to the front of "Obama" and made it a statement about how they don't want him, how they are rejecting him, how they are, essentially, saying "NO" to Obama as the next President. See? See how that works? Bay Ridge, you scamp.

When I wiped the streaks of "hilarity tears" from my eyes, and regained my breath from all the hearty, breathy laughter, I pulled myself off the pavement on which I was rolling and soldiered on. Only a few steps past the hardware store I was lucky enough to stumble upon the sounds of one of Bay Ridges' crown citizens, who repeatedly shouted "Dumb Whore, Dumb Whore, Dumb Whore!" The "Dumb Whores" were directed toward a very stylish, and seemingly nice, African-American woman in a gold jeep. Apparently there was some kind of traffic dispute that resulted in his strategic repetition of "dumb whore" and her shouting "you're an asshole!" The whole episode concluded with him shouting back, "Why don't you go vote for Biden!"

Wait, what? It turns out that's something you angrily shout at someone in a derogatory fashion. Let's back up and dissect that from my perspective. That's, fundamentally, like having an argument with someone and then concluding it by shouting: "hey, why don't you go have a cupcake with a glass of milk, then get to bed early and welcome the following morning with a sense of joyful optimism!" But in Bay Ridge, you see, screaming "why don't you go vote for Biden!" is like, a bad thing, because in Bay Ridge/Bizarro World, Biden is the bad guy. When I heard this I half expected the Yellow Lantern to swoop down and slap me across the face.

Editorial Note: The above Yellow Lantern reference is a reference so obscure and geeky that if you recognize it I will buy you a cookie. The rational part of me that likes to make these stories universally relatable told me not to include it, but I couldn't let it go.

I eventually had to call my co-worker so she could look at the legal pad on my desk and give me the address of the voting location. As it turned out, I remembered the address wrong, which is why I kept skulking around that Mazda dealership, looking for voting booths.

I walked in and saw that they didn't have the standard paper with pin, hanging chad-style voting booths, but that they had these crazy mechanical, steam-punk-style voting booths that I'd never seen before. I started running scenarios in my head: what if I accidentally vote wrong? what if I don't flip every switch I need to and my vote isn't counted? what if I flip too many switches and the big scary mechanical booth transforms into a people-eating robot? Then that would be on me, and I'd feel like such an asshole.

The location volunteers were all spectacularly nice and helped me understand the switch system. Being of sound mind and high neurosis, I took a picture of my checked vote for Obama/Biden, just so I could assure myself that even though the booth itself was a weird old system, I managed to get done wanted I was there to do.

On the way out of the booth I asked the nice elderly gentleman in the red sweater if they have any sort of ballot receipt or "I Voted" sticker. He regretfully informed me that they did not, which kind of killed the companion piece to this one: "Free Shit I Got Just For Voting."

Unsatisfied, I reached into my messenger bag, found some stickers, and made my own:

There are some missing because I passed them around the office when I got to work.

On the way back to the subway I stopped at Brooklyn Bagels for one last Bacon Egg Cheese on an Everything Bagel. The owners had changed, as had some of the employees. The guy who took my order was a young, excitable type who seemed to value customer service, which kind of threw me off. I ate my bagel and drank my Vitamin Water on the subway like a hobo, violently tearing into my food like I hadn't eaten in three days. I realized, shortly after I finished, that it was noon, and I hadn't eaten anything all day, when I should have been constantly fortifying myself during my voyage to the other end of the earth.

I got back to work, sat down, Larry came by and made a joke about how I dress more and more casual every day, and started organizing spreadsheets. Everything was back on track, the routine resumed and I settled back into the daily whatever it is that I do, and as I starred blankly at a column of 13-digit ISBNs it became apparent that everything really was back on track, and I welcomed the day with joyful optimism... and hope.

... and THAT is a cheesy conclusion I think we can all get behind.

Acceptable Update

2008-07-07T12:55:00.001-07:00

While I do love Queen, I feel that simply stating that love isn't nearly enough to sustain people's hope of future updates. I guess there is hope of future updates, I've just been busy working on other things lately. I'm not going to lie, there's a lot to talk about. I just moved, which in and of itself was full of ridiculous and funny stories. There were the usual tales of woe, and silly things I did because I'm kind of flakey that led to more ridiculous situations as I tried to get myself out of the hole I dug. There were introspective moments, and big life epiphanies that I quickly forgot. There were new bands I liked, and new celebrities I worshipped, and generally things have been more of the same--which is to say, there has been plenty of fodder for updates.

I haven't had internet at my apartment recently. That's not an excuse because I've only not had internet access for about two weeks, it's just something I'm saying now so that I can frame what I'm about to say, which is this: I think it might be a good thing that I don't have internet at home. You know, I spend so much time trying to avoid being alone that when I actually am alone I feel this insane need to stay connected, like being alone isn't acceptable. And that keeps me from doing the things I'm best at, because the things I'm really the best at are things I do alone (*snicker snicker*). Things like writing, and drawing, and all that other only-child stuff that I've always done has just kind of stopped recently. But not having internet has made it impossible to check social messaging sites every four minutes. I started to realize my personal value wasn't based on the amount of scrabble games I won. I found that when I'm not doing anything, I wind up getting the most done--at least in terms of fulfilling, end products. And that's just in terms of things I create personally, and isn't to say that time with friends isn't fulfilling. If you're a friend and feel that that last sentence wasn't a good enough explanation as to how I can be both fulfilled alone and with you, you can: a) call me and I'll explain what I mean better, or b) get over yourself.

But I think it's good to not be over yourself, to a degree. Does that make sense? Where was I going with this?

So here it is, I guess. I'm not saying goodbye to the blog, that's not what this is. I'm just saying: "hey, dear loving readers of Marc in the City, I think about you often, and don't want you to think that you don't mean anything to me, because you do. You are everything to me baby, you is my world."

I like chill-laxin' in the blogosphere, but I'm afraid it's just too hard to have my feet in two ponds at once. If we've spoken in person recently you might know what I'm up to that's keeping me from regular updates. If we haven't spoken personally in a while, then you should just know that the new project is going to break your fucking mind with its awesomeness.

Incidentally, getting over yourself is for suckers.

Queen

2008-06-06T09:02:00.001-07:00

I LOVE QUEEN!

Queen is just such an amazing band. I'm listening to "Who Wants to Live Forever" right now and I am moved. Freddie Mercury is the greatest front man of all time.

Made-Up Words

2008-05-27T10:21:00.000-07:00

Words I've created in the last 24 hours:

Bro-cocious: When you and your bros are trying to agree on something to do, and one or more bros is either: changing their mind often, or is immediately shooting down every idea that is proposed.

Example: Dude, we got tickets to the Broadway revival of "Cats" six weeks ago and now you don't want to go? Quit being so bro-cocious.

Flee-vage: When you can see the lines between a woman's toes in the open top of a shoe.

Example: I would have bought those shoes, but there was fleevage everywhere, and that's gross and weird. I might as well buy sandals.

Gnarls Barkley

2008-05-23T07:25:00.000-07:00

I'm really digging what I've heard of the new Gnarls Barkley.

Terrible Thai Food

2008-05-23T06:57:00.000-07:00

Last night I ate the worst Thai food I've ever had.

It was all spiciness and zero flavor. Later, it was brought to my attention that the restaurant where we got said Thai food was actually a Chinese restaurant that also makes Thai food. I think that is where the breakdown occurred on the delicious train.

After dinner, I went to Tom and Jade's to drink wine, celebrate our wins, and mourn our losses of the day. They ordered Mexican food, from a restaurant called "Min Yeng's Mexican Food." They serve both Chinese and Mexican cuisine... h-what?

Chinese food in New York is to foreign cuisine as cranberry is to juice. It's just mixed with every other kind of food, without regard for the outcome. This is getting out of control.

So after not eating much, I went and had one glass of terrible wine. Because my stomach was empty, I was surprised to find myself sort of drunk... on a single glass of cheap wine. I woke up with a little headache this morning, and was more embarassed than pained. I don't even know why I'm publicly admitting all of this...

Maybe I'm still drunk.

All Day Listening

2008-05-22T11:22:00.001-07:00

I've been listening to The Album Leaf all day today. Yesterday, I listened to Whiskeytown all day.

Got Milk Whore

2008-05-22T07:29:00.000-07:00

I was reading Perez Hilton today, which I rarely do anymore, and I saw this article with this associated text:

"Who is the latest Got Milk? Whore????

CLICK HERE to find out!

He/she likes it creamy."

It's Martha Stewart, in case you were wondering. But what I want to know is: Can you really be a whore for publicizing milk? I mean, that's kind of like calling someone an ad whore for promoting literacy. "Ooh, Taye Diggs is promoting the Bookmobile. What a shill!"

12 Hours of Sleep

2008-05-22T06:59:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to bed at 8:30pm because I've been sick for the last couple weeks and decided I'd try to do something good for myself. I awoke this morning at about 8:00am. After a relatively quick and delay-free train ride into town, I went to Dunkin' Donuts and ordered two Boston Cream donuts and a large iced coffee with French Vanilla flavoring.

Why would I do that to myself? I take all this time to get a good night's sleep, then I load up my body with fat and sugar! I'm about half-way through the iced coffee now (it's sitting within left hand's reach as I type this). I haven't even touched the donuts yet. Maybe they will be lunch...

Or maybe I should find a salad and eat that...

Or maybe I should just say "fuck it," eat the donuts, then go over to Goodburger and bet them that if I can't eat 10 cheeseburgers in under 30 minutes they're free.

Dancing Feet

2008-05-21T13:37:00.003-07:00

Someone asked me the other day if I ever dance. My answer: Yes, I do.

It looks a lot like this:

Already A Bad Idea

2008-05-21T10:29:00.001-07:00

I already think the post below is a bad idea.

PS: My office is a 1000 degrees and I smell bad because of it.

Real Written Things

2008-05-21T09:50:00.000-07:00

Like, actual writing that requires effort and thought. I haven't really thought about anything or talked about anything but blog writing for a while. It's made me sort of lazy, and distracted me from writing things with actual plots and characters and adult themes and subject matter.

So what the hell, why don't I just start posting things I'm working on? It'll keep me motivated, as long as I get lots of genuine, ingenuine positive motivation from those of you who still read the website. Or maybe I'll just get shy and immediately take everything down and remember this as a terible idea. Who knows. I just know I need to do some actual writing, valuable writing, I guess.

We'll see how it goes... together, Dear Reader.

Alternative Comic Sighting

2008-05-21T09:13:00.000-07:00

I had a really crappy Friday. It was rainy, and I forgot my coat, and I didn't have an umbrella, and it was just generally a stressful day at the office. There was all this badge ruckus that I won't get into that was completely stealing my thunder, energy, and innocence.

So I got on the E train, right outside the office, and decided to ride down to 42nd at which point I'd transfer to the N. Exciting, right? So I'm sitting there, exhausted and on the verge of a nervous breakdown because I can't stop thinking about work stuff, when I decide that seats on the train at 5:00 should be coveted. So I sat there until 14th street, and figured I'd just walk over to the N train (wherever it was). "It can't be that far," I thought.

I get out of the train station and realize that I'm in Chelsea, and that the N train is all the way next to the Virgin Megastore, which is extremely far away (especially when it's raining and you don't have a coat or umbrella). I started walking, and listened to Spoon while I watched people scurry through the rain as though it was made of acid.

Thank God my iPod was charged. I finally made it to the Subway, got on, and who should walk on right after me but Michael Showalter, of "Wet Hot American Summer!" I've seen that movie probably, seriously, 30 times. There was a period in college where my roommates and I would watch it every day after class (sometimes twice in a row). I know every line, I've watched the director's commentary often enough to recite along with the film, I've watched it with the extra fart noises on.

Now, granted, I'm still in a terrible mood, but for a little while I was distracted by Michael Showalter, who was innocuously reading the New York Times, which I thought was impressive because I never read the New York Times. He was wearing a pretty nondescript raincoat, and a long five o' clock shadow. I didn't want to bug him, especially not on a Subway, but just seeing him was enough to settle the waves of work-related nausea that were slowing moving their through my stomach, chest, and brain. I was distracted, and that's all that mattered.

He got off at Atlantic/Pacific, which makes sense. If he got off any later he'd see less awesome (because I live after Atlantic/Pacific on the N, and there's nothing cool there).

Anyway, that was pretty great. By this point I'd worked myself up into a stress-induced cold and spent the rest of the night watching "The Soup," and eating Cheez-Its; but seeing Michael Showalter was pretty great.

Colbert Dance Party

2008-05-21T07:53:00.000-07:00

Apparently Comedy Central saw fit to disable the video below because God forbid I help spread laughter in the world.

That being said, you should try to find the video and watch it, if you haven't. It's pretty funny... and you might learn some fresh moves.

Rain vs. Colbert

2008-05-07T06:53:00.000-07:00

Everytime I get bored with the Colbert Report, he does something like this and reels me back in completely. If he had a blot it would probably be updated often.

Those of you who know me well recall that I'm a big fan of dance-offs. For a short time in college I supported myself strictly be working the dance-off circuit, and often spent late nights perfecting my moves in montage form. It was a more innocent time back then...

Enjoy:

Extremely Specific Greeting Cards: Vol. 2

2008-05-06T07:43:00.000-07:00

Happy 15th Birthday, to my uncle's step-son, who I guess would be my step-cousin

Hey there, you. I hear it's your birthday! I'm sure you're a really nice guy... my uncle, uh, I mean, your dad... step-dad, I guess talks about you all the time! He said you're a wrestler or something at school, and that's pretty neat. You're in high school now? Oh, that's great. So it's your birthday, is it on a weekday? If so, do you take the day off from school or do you still go, or what?

So I guess since my uncle married your mom, you're his step-son now, which makes you my step-cousin, right? That's pretty cool, I've always wanted more cousins...

Well look, I didn't get you anything because I don't really know you.

Happy Birthday,
Marc

Extremely Specific Greeting Cards: Vol. 1

2008-05-06T07:17:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to my favorite European, trust-fund baby, alt-emo-electro-pop quartet

It's your birthday, your special day. And like you say in your hit song "Take a Doo-Doo Pie", "Your moves like hot biscuit, face so pretty, snickerdoodle want to shock sock dandy... forever." Remember that, and keep it with you.

This morning, when you wake up at 4:16pm, roll out of bed, and smoke a clove cigarette through one of those long, silver cigarette holders things while unsuccessfully trying to find inspiration in the writings of obscure French authors; know that the people who tolerate you do so slightly more today, because they're sort of obligated.

Happy Birthday, my favorite European, trust-fund baby, alt-emo-electro-pop quartet!

-Marc

One-Act: Pass or Fail... Just Like Gym Class

2008-05-05T07:44:00.000-07:00

The following is the first installment of a new series that will consist of One-Act plays based on current events. This particular play is based a recent luke-warm review by Entertainment Weekly of Kanye West's "Glow in the Dark" Tour. Enjoy.

Act 1: Where in Kanye West reacts to a B+ review of his tour

Kanye: Yo, anybody that's not a fan; don't come to my show. For what?! To try and throw ya'll two cents in? Ya'll rated my album shitty and now ya'll come to the show and give it a B+. What's a B+ mean? I'm an extremist. It's either pass or fail! A+ or F-! You know what, fuck you and the whole fucking staff!!! I know I shouldn't dignify this with a comment, but the reviewer threw a jab at all the artists. I just wanna know when was the last time you enjoyed yourself. If you can't have fun and lose yourself at this tour it's a good chance you're a very miserable person. I actually feel sorry for you guys. Your job forces you to not have fun anymore. Grab a drink, holla at some nice girls, and party bitch!! You don't know shit about passion and art. You'll never gain credibility at this rate. You're fucking trash! I make art. You can't rate this. I'm a real person. I'm not a pop star. I don't care about anything but making great art. Never come 2 one of my shows ever again, you're not invited and if you see me...BOW!! This is not pop, it's pop art!

Marc: You're right, Kany-ezze... they all need to holla at some nice girls and those bitches need to party.

The End.

Gawker Stalker Sighting: Jeff Olsen

2008-05-02T12:46:00.000-07:00

I was reading Gawker today and saw this Gawker Stalker entry:

"My friends and I saw Jeff Olson, the Cowboy from The Village People, at Staley Wise Gallery (560 Broadway @ Prince St) for Ron Galella's photography show. We were hoping David Bowie, The Boss, Mick Jagger, Bob Dylan, Michael Jackson or Elizabeth Taylor would show up."

How in the hell do you know who Jeff Olsen is, let alone what he looks like and who he was in the Village People? If ABBA walked down the street right by me, no, if ABBA walked into my office and started singing "Dancing Queen" I would still think, "who are these people singing 'Dancing Queen' in my office?" ABBA didn't even wear costumes...

Seriously, you recognized one of the Village People, thirty years after their prime, AND out of costume on the street? If Jeff Olsen was walking down the street with three other guys dressed as: an Indian Chief, a biker, and a construction worker; I might venture to guess he is the other member--but even then I'd be apprehensive.

Editorial Note: I realize that the term "Indian Chief" is not PC, but that was the placard assigned to whoever that guy was who performed in the Village People originally, so that's what I'm going with. PS: I capitalized it at least.

And this makes me wonder: in Bizzaro world is there a Marc in the City blog that's written by a man who grew up as a young gay boy in the 70s who wouldn't recognize Victoria Beckham on the street?

Seriously, don't even post Gawker Stalker sightings about Jeff Olsen... they just confuse people and detract from actual celebrities to be gawked at and stalked.

Sex and the Park Slope?

2008-05-01T10:25:00.000-07:00

Apparently Darren Star, who brought us all "Sex and the City" (the eponymous television show that inspired the very name of this website--sort of), now has a new show in the works that focuses on moms in Park Slope, or something:

"Producers are giving Park Slope the star treatment with a pilot by the same executives who brought “Sex and the City,” starring Sarah Jessica Parker, and “Melrose Place” to TV.
According to industry sources, Darren Star, who created those smash shows, has teamed with Sony and NBC for a proposed series about a group of affluent characters who live in the upscale Brooklyn neighborhood."

Do people not realize how tiny Park Slope is? I mean, granted, "Sex and the City" pretty much covered the eight square miles that encompass the Upper East Side and all the: East and West Villages, Chelsea, Tribeca, etc; but Park slope is about two square miles! On top of that, most of that square mileage consists of identical brownstones and Prospect Park.

And Park Slope is definitely an island among itself. Walk North and you're in the boring/shitty/not-yet-gentrified/mildly dangerous: Bed-Stuy and Fort Greene areas. Walk south and you're in the boring/shitty/even less gentrified/more full of identical run-down brownstones: Sunset Park. You don't even want to walk East past Prospect Park. That's, like, East Flatbush no-man's-land.

But I like Park Slope. Jade described it as "where people from Williamsburg move when they have babies," which is completely accurate. There are some cool places in Park Slope, but I haven't even spent much time there and I'm already running out of things to do. There are a couple streets with interesting bars, a killer sneaker store called "Soula," and a vegan restaurant that's not bad. And that's about it.

I imagine the new Darren Star show will start out in Park Slope, and slowly branch out into Brooklyn Heights and DUMBO without telling viewers. Eventually everyone watching will think Park Slope is as big as Manhattan, and encompasses all the affluent areas of Brooklyn in one spectacular neighborhood.

PS: I'd definitely watch a show that involved Carrie Bradshaw living in Bed-Stuy. Unfortunately it would only last three episodes.

Episode 1: The "move-in episode." Where in, Carrie does a voice over explaining why she had to move out of Manhattan. There's a moving montage, then a bunch of scenes where she mopes around and her annoying friends try to convince her it's not so bad (in each of their particularly whaspy brands of condescension).

Episode 2: Carrie finds a love-interest named "Lo-Jack" who helps Carrie move her mahogany-stained Valencia armoire into place. She'll display mild irritation with the G-train, and write a column about how gentrification is a metaphor for modern relationships and vice-versa.

Episode 3: Ends abruptly when Carrie runs to the corner store to grab a vitamin water and is murdered.

Overheard on Canal Street

2008-04-29T09:35:00.000-07:00

While waiting for the train the other day on Canal Street, I overheard to men having the following discussion about Satellite TV and HD channels:

Over-dressed and out-of-place guy #1: Dish Network has so many more HD channels than TimeWarner.

Over-dressed and out-of-place guy #2: (who is holding a golf club with a little cotton golf club head protector): Yeah, but Dish Network is just so unreliable, which is why I went with TimeWarner.

Me: I don't know why you guys are talking about TV when you have that sweet golf-club protector! You should be talking about that! Have you seen it, it's shaped like a horse's head and that's adorable! Hey, do you guys want to hang out, get a beer or something?! Do you guys watch "Gilmore Girls?" I love that show.

I didn't really say that.

Bachelor Auction at NJ.com

2008-04-28T12:49:00.000-07:00

Hey! I got re-posted at NJ.com, the official local news blog of New Jersey!

So if you want to read the article I wrote, then go to NJ.com and read what they wrote about what I wrote, and then get linked back here to read what I wrote again go to:

http://www.nj.com/hobokennow/index.ssf/2008/04/going_once_going_twice_sold.html

PS: Thanks for letting me let them use the picture, Erin.

Haircut

2008-04-15T20:53:00.000-07:00

In the interest of full disclosure, Dear Reader, I must tell you that I spent $67 on a haircut last weekend.

Now wait for the initial shock to wear off...

It was most certainly and undoubtably the finest haircut I've ever received. She took her time to really understand how my hair works, and took in to consideration my absurd hairline and hair texture.

One of the great things about paying that much for a haircut is that it really makes you care about your hair, which can be good or bad. I think it's good because I'm a guy who cares about his appearance, but not to the point where I'll really go too far out of my way. Now I feel sort of obligated, and I guess that's actually kind of nice.... does that make sense?

Anyway, the place was called Shampoo, and if you're willing to spend the money I would recommend it to anyone.

Editorial Note: Every Friday at Shampoo is "Metal Friday," so if you love Metallica Friday's your day. Or if you love the novelty of getting your haircut while listening to angry metal in the background you should go on Friday.

New Banner

2008-03-31T13:32:00.000-07:00

Meghan was kind enough to send me another banner to put on the site! Thanks, Meghan!

If anyone else would like to submit a banner that'd be fantastic! The more banners the better! If I get enough I'll figure out to make them randomly rotate.

Hahaha! Oh Man!

2008-03-31T13:30:00.001-07:00

Suck One, Cancer

2008-03-31T07:44:00.001-07:00

A couple weeks ago, Brent and I participated in a Bachelor Auction in Hoboken, NJ. We were there to raise money for Relay for Life.

We started our night at Green Rock. Rain was pouring hard all day, and didn't let up when we got to Hoboken. I realized halfway to Green Rock that my shoe had a hole in it. Immediately I became aware of the fact that my entire right foot was soaked. My right step squished as I walked into the bar. Brent, Mike, Casey, and Joshua (Joshua? I don't know, I just met him that night), were on their way out when I arrived.

Brent decided he needed a vest (what?), so we walked down Washington street to where Brent thoguht a vest may be up for purchase. The store we went to was this uber-trendy shop where the three gay boys in Hoboken must shop. The clerk had one of those creative stenciled beards that were popularized by AJ, the Backstreet Boy who went to rehab. Feeling awkward, I asked the clerk if they carried PRPS jeans. They didn't, which felt, for some reason, like a small victory.

Brent and I left for the auction. On the way, we both had to pee, so we ducked into 4Ls and had a beer. Our waitress was very charming, and immediately loved us when we mentioned we were getting auctioned off to fight cancer (which is exactly how I put it). She said we definitely needed a drink and gave us the impression that she would stop by when her shifted ended. She didn't, but the hope of that was nice enough.

We got to Texas, Arizona, where the Bachelor Auction was being held. The place was packed shoulder to shoulder with women of all ages, shapes, and sizes. Brent and I checked in, and went to go try to fight our way to the bar. Being smaller than 80% of the guys in Jersey, I was able to find a small hole in the crowd around the bar (not unlike how all that rain water found a small hole in my shoe and took immediate advantage). We got two Budweisers (which is the King of Beers and the best beer in the world... send me free beer), and walked around introducing ourselves to people. Soon enough, we were speaking with a cougar named... something, I don't know, she had a name, and a somewhat younger woman who was actually kind of cute and maybe only a few years older than me. She had a name too. They told us we were the nicest guys they met all night, and that they would definitely bid on us. I was just happy someone that I don't know what going to bid on me.

Walt and Erin came in and the auction began soon after. Brent was number 35, and I was number 32, which Kiera (the organizer of the event) said was good, because people get more desperate at the end of the night and bid more.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention, Brent informed me shortly before the auction began that a lot of the bachelors were recruited from Club H, and were mostly personal trainers... fab.

The auction began and people were going for modest amounts: $30, $40, whatever. Generally it was pretty bland until a guy got up who unbuttoned his shirt and had another shirt with his name on it. Then he started throwing his headshots out into the crowd. Then he held up a sign for his website. It turns out he was a comedy writer in New York. But sorry comedy writer, this is Jersey. The only writing people do here is when they sign their Jegerbomb tabs at the end of the night. He went for $30.

J-Nel arrived shortly after, in a black North Face jacket that looks suspiciously red under black light...

Some other stuff happened and then I was up. I walked up to the stage, getting ready to go up to the auction block. I'm watching the guy before me flex, and pose, and do his thing. I also filled the time by talking to the other bachelors on deck. They were both pretty drunk, but really nice and both pretty nervous. And that's the weird thing, I wasn't nervous at all. I hadn't been nervous about it at any point going up to the event, nor was I before I went up. I was, maybe for a little, when I saw Senior Beefcake from Club H go for $150, but other than that I was fine.

The song changes, which is my cue to go up to the auction block. It's Sir Mix-a-Lot's "I like Big Butts," which is just false advertising because I, in fact, am not a great fan of big butts. And then, right as I'm making the short 15-foot walk up to the block, this kid jumps up onto the stage, knocks over a couch, apologizes, and walks off. What the hell? I still don't know what he was doing, but apparently there was somewhere he needed to be. There was a bachelor emergency that I didn't know about, or something.

I stand up on the auction block, remembering at this point that I was instructed not to dance or jump on the block (damn). And right when I see people winding up to bid, dear Kiera decides to go into some administrative anouncements. Apparently bachelors 16 and 18 had not yet been paid for, and there is an entire protocal that has to happen if they are not paid for, which Kiera took the time to outline while I stood on the small black box... unable to dance or jump.

I continued to stand on the box, growing more and more anxious, and more and more fired up. I even struck a conversation with a girl at the side of the stage about how awkard the whole thing was. Finally, I decided it made no sense for me to keep standing up there, so after what felt like 10 minutes, I turned around and walked off. Then, of course, as soon as I turn around, Kiera decides to introduce me.

At this point, everyone's already sick of me. The momentum is gone, and they want to move on. They had time to observe how awkward I am when forced to stand in front of a sea of 200 people, motionless, while "I Like Big Butts" plays in the background. PS: If anyone ever finds a way to look cool in that situation I'll give them $1000 a week to teach me all their secrets.

I stood there, squishing my toes into my wet right shoe, looking for my peeps. Where'd the cougar with the name go who said she's bid on me? Where's that girl who tapped me on the shoulder and said I looked like Ryan Seacrest (in a good way) go? Where's Casey's friend who said she'd be here? Oh right, she was sick. Lauren, where's Lauren from work? Oh right, they had launch today and she probably just had the longest day ever... Where are my peeps?!

Then I saw Erin, ah Erin, in her infinite charity and graciousness, bid on me. Then some other girl who Brent knew, then Erin again, then I got distracted by watching Kiera and wondering if she knew what she did. Then back to Erin, and then something else happened probably, and then I was sold, for $40 to Erin. And this was actually a huge relief for a couple reasons, the first being that I wasn't publicly humiliated and not just given away, and the second being that I like Erin, and I'd gladly take her out (as opposed to some desperate old lady who wants a baby or something).

And then, probably because I'd been drinking and hadn't eaten anything all day and had had the longest week at work, I began to just seathe with rage. Why would Kiera do that to me? Why did I agree to this whole thing? Why did I let a bunch of Jersey kids shallowly quantify my value in a public forum? I was past rational. I wasn't thinking about the fact that no one there was even giving me any thought, and that later this would be a funny story. I was hungry, and tired, and a little drunk, and my ego was bruised.

And then Erin came up to pay for me, and gave them an extra $40, and made me feel nominally better. On top of that, she was going to make Walt take her out instead of me, so I didn't even have to buy someone dinner!

Walt's reaction:

Then Brent was up. Oh Brent, with all your blonde-headed hotness. You can look, but don't touch (you might get burned). Brent got up and hands shot up left and right. The guy could do not wrong--imagine if he was allowed to dance! Eventually, after a vicious bidding war, Brent went to 4 girls from Hoboken for the handsome sum of $90!

They settled up, exchanged phone numbers, and Brent, Erin, J-Nel, Walt, and I went back to Green Rock. Mike and Casey met us there. We drank some more beers, and talked about the whole experience. Brent made dough-eyes at the guy playing guitar, and I shoved some more beers into my stomach. That night, I got home at 2:00am. The next morning I was exhausted... but it was worth it, because cancer fucking sucks.

Jazz!

Mr. Gorbachev, Tear Down This Wall!

2008-03-31T07:25:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in every boy's life where they have to become a man, which invariably means taking down their loft bed. It was a good run, loft bed, but we both knew this time would come.

So I walked into Sleepy's and talked to the morbidly obese salesman I always see when I walk by the store on the way home from work. The guy looks like he could have a life-ending heart attack at any second. I walked in and said, "Yo, Holmes. I understand you have a sale on some dem pillow tops," and he said, "Oh, I have some you're just going to fall in love with."

He takes me to this crazy thing that looks like it was constructed from clouds, dreams, and sunshine. The top was made with lamb's wool, that apparently doesn't hold heat. He demonstrated this to me by rubbing on it quickly and noting that it cooled instantly. The coils were pocketed, the springs varied in size and shape and "springiness," which meant that it provided a better night's sleep. It was big, and bold, and sang lullabies to children, and told bed-time stories. This was the bed to end all beds, it was based on the same design as mattresses used in the finest hotels. Kings and diplomats had slept on this mattress, and even in their jaded worlds full of extravagance they awoke to exclaim, "That bed was fucking awesome."

It was also crazy expensive.

We moved on to two other beds. Both pillow top, both less fancy, but pretty much equal in comfort. There was no lamb's wool, they didn't cure cancer upon contact, or let you see the future, but they were both crazy comfortable. One was really pillow-y, the other was somewhat less pillow-y--I went with the really pillow-y, because I am one decedent decadent man.

So here it is, my new mattress set. Was it worth it?

You bet your ass it was.

Me and Lenny Kravitz

2008-03-08T08:27:00.000-08:00

Hey Everyone, Lenny Kravitz and I just want to ask that you be patient while I try to find time to post more on the site. I have some things in the hopper, and believe me, there are some stories to tell. So check back soon for another crazy blog-splosion!

Yo Lenny, Slash, take us out!

Head Phones and Fruit Roll-Ups

2008-02-26T09:28:00.000-08:00

I have this giant pair of giant DJ headphones that I wear occasionally when I don't feel like dealing with my crappy iPod headphones. The giant headphones are extremely conspicuous and sort of ridiculous and make me a little self-conscious about people thinking I'm trying too hard.

There are these three guys on 53rd who stand outside of the New York Public Library. They wear all camo gear and hold giant boxes of Fruit Roll-Ups. As you walk by, the three men holler at you from different angles, trying to get you to buy a Fruit Roll-Up for $1.

So I'm walking down the street the other day to get lunch, my giant headphones around my neck because I haven't figured out what I want to listen to yet. Suddenly, one of the camo guys pops out from behind the limits of my peripheral vision and asks me if I want to buy a Fruit Roll-Up. He's not out stealing or selling drugs, you see, but is doing something positive in the community in order to make money.

Editorial Note: Every one of these people on the street/in the subway says the same exact speech about how they're not out stealing or selling drugs to make money, but that they are trying to do something positive for the community. I swear, there's a website where they're all getting and memorizing this same speech.

"No thanks," I say.
"Come on, it's just a dollar. Don't you like Fruit Roll-Ups?"

Here's the thing: I am indifferent towards Fruit Roll-Ups. I realized after he asked that I could probably go my entire life without ever purchasing and eating another Fruit Roll-Up. I felt kind of good about that, like I'd grown up or something. Like the days of over-processed, super-sweet food were over, and that somehow made me an adult.

"No, I really don't want a Fruit Roll-Up," I said. "Besides, I don't even have any cash on me."
"Well what about those headphones around your neck? How much were those?"
"I don't think you have enough Fruit Roll-Ups in that box to buy my headphones," I said. "And what would I do with a box Fruit Roll-Ups?"

We both laughed, shook hands/"dapped each other up"/whatever you call it, and I asked him if I could get a picture.

"Sure," he said. "If you buy a Fruit Roll-Up."

Touche.

Top 5 OC Characters

2008-02-25T10:16:00.000-08:00

If you ever watched The O.C. do yourself a favor and read this list...

Then do all of us a favor and make your own list:

http://www.poolpartysuite.com/pps/?p=65

-compliments of http://www.poolpartysuite.com

Oscar Picks

2008-02-25T10:02:00.000-08:00

It looks like my Oscar picks wound up being pretty accurate. I didn't think There Will Be Blood would win Best Picture, I think everyone would have been shocked if No Country For Old Men didn't win. I'm just glad Daniel Day-Lewis won for Best Actor, if he didn't win that I would have been visibly upset. I didn't even know the nominees for Best Actress, and just really wanted Ellen Page to win. Oh well. What's her name from La Vie En Rose won, and she seemed to deserve it.

Unfortunately, the Oscar pool at work was due before I saw any of the movies, so my work ballot wasn't good at all. Meh, life goes on. I can't believe I'm even talking about this shit, I never watch awards shows. This must be how people who watch football feel about the Super Bowl... but way gayer.

Oscar Predictions

2008-02-24T17:18:00.000-08:00

I'll expand on my rationale later, but here (before the show) I'm going to give a few of my Oscar picks. They're different from my work Oscar pool picks because at that time I hadn't seen every movie.

I just realized I don't remember very many of categories, but here are a few picks:

Best Actor - Daniel Day Lewis
Best Picture - There Will Be Blood
Best Supporting Actress - Tilda Swinton (I don't know if she's nominated)
Best Score - Atonement (typewriters as instruments?! Insanity)
Best Art Direction - Atonement
Best Original Screenplay - Juno (if this doesn't win I'll be crazy surprised)
Best Adapted Screenplay - No Country For Old Men (again, surprised if it doesn't win)
Best Actress - Ellen Page

There you go, I guess we'll see what happens. Happy Oscars!

Weekly Matches

2008-02-22T12:55:00.000-08:00

As you may remember, a while ago I decided to create a match.com profile strictly out of curiousity. Since then I've pretty much ignored match.com, but I still get daily matches sent to my gmail account that show me who, based on pre-determined preferences (that have changed often depending on my mood), would be a good match for me. While most people look first at the pictures, I've taken to immediately reading the tagline by the picture.

The tagline in a match.com profile, for those of you who don't know, is that eye-catching line that displays your personality hopefully shares some insight into the kind of person you are. I enjoy them so much that I've decided to post a few here:

Enchanting Female Looking For a Nice, Loving & Sexy Man

-That's awfully confident. who describes theirself as "enchanting?" I mean other than Prince.

"To being an US for once...instead of a THEM!" La Vie Boheme

-I prefer the La Vie Boheme line, "To leather, to dildos, To curry Vindaloo To Huevos Rancheros, and Maya Angelou."

Allergic...to dancing?

-I actually really love this one.

Single teacher looking for that romantic someone.

-Wow, that's really boring. I suggest a few edits: "History teacher looking for a brush up on anatomy." See? Much better.

"Women might be able to fake orgasms. But men can fake a whole relationship."

-This doesn't make me think, "Oh, yes, I totally want to date her! She's just so delightfully bitter!"

Searching For Mr. Right Not Mr. Right Now!

-This would be great if she changed "Mr. Right Now" to "Mr. 'Baby, that was great, but you gotta' go."

There you go. I think getting my daily match.com matches is my new favorite thing. I strongly recommend signing up yourself.

Smart Phones

2008-02-22T11:20:00.001-08:00

When I was in college I didn't know what a Palm Treo was. I vaguely knew what a Blackberry was, but I knew I didn't need one, and I had no desire to own one. After I graduated I moved down to Seattle and started working in the software industry. Suddenly everyone I knew had Motorola Qs, and Treos, and Blackjacks. Practically no one had a Blackberry, which I still don't understand. I soon found myself lusting after my friend's Q, to the point where I was playing with it once while driving and almost rear-ended someone.

Now I'm at a point in my life where I feel like I need a Blackberry. Like, I need one. Was I just in this weird Northwestern vacuum? I know why I feel like I need a Blackberry (I have my reasons), but what I don't understand is how awesome phones weren't even on my radar so recently as a few years ago. Was it a technology spike, or was I just in a place where no one cared. To that end, does that mean there are actually geographic locations that can collectively be unaware or consciously buck a current trend so strongly?

What I'm getting at is, my birthday's in June... so, you know... a Blackberry would be nice.

Weekend 001

2008-02-22T10:10:00.001-08:00

I'm kicking off this weekend by going up to Harlem for some soul food, then I'm going to see The Roots at The Apollo Theater. I'm going to avoid chitlins, but not collards, because I love collards.

Saturday, I'll be somewhere in Manhattan watching all five of the best picture nominees for this year back-to-back. Hopefully at some point I'll finally buy some canvases, fill out the bachelor auction questionnaire that I just got in my email box, and drink 1-14 beers.

Sunday, as always, I'll go to brunch. Likely The Kettle Black, but maybe I'll try someplace new. Last Sunday we went to a place called The Germaine (I think). The service was so French and terrible. The waitress actually waved her hand in a dismissive way at Amy when she asked for water. That said, the food was incredible, and it became clear to me that the quality of service and deliciousness of brunch are not necessarily mutually exclusive, but often are.

On Sunday night I'll catch up on all my favorite DVR recorded shows, and possibly do laundry.

Things that may or may not happen this weekend:

I'll go for a run
I'll talk to someone at the off-track betting place down the street
I'll buy some sneaks
I'll start a book
I'll finish a book

Ross and Rachel

2008-02-21T15:28:00.001-08:00

Ross and Rachel had absolutely no chemistry.

There, I said it. Look at them. Really think about these two people and consider their actual potential as a couple. Seriously, it's a testiment to the writing of "Friends" that anyone cared about these two people getting together at all.

Audio Killed the Literary Star

2008-02-19T11:11:00.000-08:00

I just finished listening to "Me Talk Pretty One Day" on the old iPod and let me tell you, hilarious! So I thought, "hey, there might be something to this audio book thing," and I bought two more titles. Those titles were "No Country for Old Men" and "Atonement," both books I've wanted to read, but knew I probably wouldn't get around to anytime soon. My original thinking in getting the David Sedaris book "Me Talk Pretty One Day" was that I would want something light and easily listenable for the subway. When I put my headphones on, and clicked play on "Atonement" I soon realized that my initial thought process was sound.

With books like "Atonement" or "No Country For Old Men" you need to process them at your own pace. Occasionally one needs to stop and go back a couple pages if they spaced out while reading or got distracted. With the audio book that's not really possible. "Atonement" immediately lost my attention because of the language used, and the style of writing. I was lost inside of five minutes, and what would normally be a leisurely train ride became a frustrating exercise in concentration.

I brought this up with a friend, and he corroborated my newly discovered feelings about how some audio books work and some just don't. He said audio books are for performances, not literature, which makes absolute perfect sense. David Sedaris has a fantastic voice. His words are his own and he really gets behind them. There are live parts of him performing pieces of his book that really make you feel like you're in the audience. Because of the perspective, and the simple non-fiction narrative, listening to "Me Talk Pretty" was extremely easy.

I have a subscription to an audio book site now that gives me 2 books a month for the next year. I'm looking forward to listening to all the Sedaris-like books I know I'd never read on my own time, and I'll leave "No Country" for the weekend.

Anderson Cooper 360

2008-02-19T09:44:00.000-08:00

I don't understand why people are always talking about Anderson Cooper being gay like he's going out of his way to hide it. It's like Clay Aiken said in an interview (which really speaks to my news citations), "It's like when I was 8. I remember something would get broken in the house, and Mom and Dad would call me in and say, 'Did you do this?' Well, it didn't matter what I said. The only thing they would believe was yes. … People are going to believe what they want." They way I took that comment, after reading some subtext was, yes, of course clay broke it, so why would you even ask?

Yes, of course Anderson Cooper is gay, but don't try to act all indignant because he's not marching in any parades. Don't feel all betrayed because he's not some giant screaming queen on CNN. During the caucus coverage on CNN no one will deny that he did a fantastic job. He did his job as a news anchor. Would you feel better if he was all "Oh girl, Hillary took another state! Three snaps for that political bitch! Uh-Uh, and UH! *snaps in a Z formation*." Did we see Anderson Cooper at the Kathy Griffin show in New York? Yes. Does he work out at the gayest gym in the city? Yup.

Does it bother you that he's not out as a rolemodel? Is that the problem here, that's he's not on the cover of Out Magazine talking about his confused adolescense? Because it seems to me like he's already an amazing role model. If you need him to come out and say "yep, I'm gay" then that's like saying you'll start building that house as soon as someone gives you 200,000 bricks. Shit, get off Anderson Cooper's tip.

"... and leave Britney alone!"

Dandy in the Underworld

2008-02-19T07:19:00.000-08:00

I just added a link to Dandy in the Underworld, a hilarious blog by Sebastian Horsley. I high recommend it. He's got a book coming out soon called DANDY IN THE UNDERWORLD. I'm excited to start reading it.

High School Football Star

2008-02-18T16:22:00.000-08:00

I realized recently that I can't stop recounting what my life was like before I moved to New York. Like the townie who was a high school football star who always talks about the game where he threw 6 touchdowns, or an aging rock star who carries around at all times a list of women he slept with on the road, I find that I'm constantly comparing my "new" life to my "old Seattle life." Undoubtedly it annoys everyone around me, and I thank them for listening politely while I remember what driving felt like, or what Evergreens trees smell like, or how I once wasn't an Assistant.

There was this guy I used to work with, his name was Eric. He was a stockbrocker when he was young, in New York City. Something happened along the way and at the age of 67 I was his boss. He would always tell the same stories, and they never failed to irritate me, especially when I was trying to get him to do something for work I would never want to do.

This isn't something I did before I moved here. I got to thinking tonight why I keep bringing up the past. And then it dawned on me that I keep remembering my old life because that's what I can hold on to. I don't know what's going to happen here, my roots aren't settled yet, and how can you really feel engaged if you don't seem "in it." So starting now, I guess, I'm going to try to not think about how things used to be. I'm going to pretend that I'm not starting over again, but that I'm just starting. Maybe this will make a difference, and maybe I'll stop sounding like Uncle Rico from Napolean Dynamite.

Beyonce Drink

2008-02-14T10:03:00.000-08:00

Why is Beyonce getting credit for putting fruit in water and making it taste good? Apparently she doesn't like drinking water, so she puts a bunch of other stuff in it and convinces herself that it is not, in fact, still normal water. Are you going to tell me you don't like the taste, Beyonce? That makes no sense, water has no taste. I've met people who don't like water and I never understood it. Moreover, a lot of those people I've met who don't like water are thin. The reason I bring that up is because it stands to reason that people who don't like water grew up drinking lots of soda or juice or whatever and can't drink something that doesn't taste "good." But I have to give Beyonce some props. I like anyone who takes pride in their Connect Four skills. Seriously! It's just so wholesome and fantastic. Drink whatever you like Beyonce, it's on me!

Here's how to make "Beyonce Drink":

Things You’ll Need:
Cucumber
Lemon or lime
Water
Pitcher (or you can use a water bottle, philistine)
Knife

Step 1: Wash the cucumbers and all the utensils you're going to use.

Step 2: Slice the cucumbers and lemons.

Step 3: Fill your water bottle or pitcher with water.

Step 4: Add the slices. The amount is dependent on how much of a taste you want.

Step 5: Enjoy.

Tips & Warnings (I did not write any of these)

--The longer it sits after you have finished, the better time the veggies and fruit will have to kind of sift the flavor through.
--Drinking this keeps you pretty refreshed and tastes great.
--You can add cayenne peppers.
--Make sure to wash all your utensils. Come on, now let's be sanitary.
--Be careful to be moderate. Take only what you can handle.

Beyonce Drink steps and Tips & Warnings from eHow at http://www.ehow.com/how_2172984_drink-beyonce-water.html

Golden Child: Part II

2008-02-14T08:14:00.000-08:00

Behold further evidence of my awesome powers. I'll let Matt explain:

"First you bring a Super Bowl contender to New York, now you bring KEXP? How do you do this? Next they'll be building a space needle over there.

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2004175984_kexpstory.html"

Maybe I will have a Space Needle built here. I don't know, I'll get back to you on that.

10 Best Date Movies

2008-02-13T17:37:00.000-08:00

It always seemed odd to me that Valentine's Day is in February, one of the coldest, grossest months of the year. The argument can be made that what the world needs (now) is love... sweet love, and that when just looking outside makes you want to stay indoors and cry it's nice to focus on happier things. That said, this is the time of year when we start getting all the subtle--and not so subtle--reminders that if you don't get your girlfriend/boyfriend the perfect gift, or you fail to make the day as special as possible, that you will die alone.

With that in mind, it's impossible lately to avoid romantic lists. We, as a people, love lists. We like lists of the best places to go, the best places to eat; we like to be told which wax will give our Prius' the best shine, and which Danity Kane songs are the most poppin'. Now that it's Valentine's Day week, there are lists all over the place about what to buy her and how to give her the perfect V-Day (which always makes me think of Vietnam, not Valentine's Day). Above all the lists you might have to wade through, the most prevalent have to be the "Best Date Movie List." Honestly, if you read enough of these you start to subconsciously consider your own nominees constantly, and it begins to ruin your life.

In an effort to not go insane, here's my Top 10 Best Date Movies list. Maybe after getting this out there on the internet, it'll stop bouncing around my brain, and I might just be able to sleep tonight. These are all movies I've seen. There are some obvious choices like Titanic that should probably be on the list that I haven't seen. However, a determining factor of my list is that I want to include movies that both sexes might enjoy. I haven't seen Titanic because I know I'd probably think it's boring and crappy. On with the list!

10) The Princess Bride - Has anyone not seen this movie 1000 times? I just asked Julianne if she's seen it and she said "many many times," which is an astoundingly common answer. In fact, it's not even a common answer, it is the only answer. Everyone in my (our) generation has deep seeded memories of this movie, and you have to admit that it holds fond memories for us all. Male or Female there's something to love about this movie.

9) The Notebook - Guys like this movie but usually won't admit it. The book was absolutely terrible, but the movie adaptation with Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams was incredible. No two people have ever had that kind of chemistry on-screen, and when they broke up in "real-life" I felt like a piece of me stopped believing in true love. I remember watching this movie one 4th of July in my apartment and getting really annoyed with people in the nearby Albertson's parking lot because I couldn't hear the dialogue over the black cats and M80s they were setting off... I shouldn't have told you that.

8) High Fidelity - A lot of people would say Say Anything is a better date movie, but those people are fools. Actually, I can completely see the argument for Say Anything. It's a classic romance that focuses strictly on the relationship of two people. High Fidelity, however, is a more multi-faceted movie that takes a far more interesting take on relationships. It does a better job framing thought processes in relationships, and has more interesting characters. The story is more compelling because you really get to know the protagonist, and there are lots of other supplementary characters to support his internal conflict. Anyhow, I just think it's a better movie, and much more entertaining to guys than Say Anything. Though there is that part of Say Anything, I'll concede, with the Peter Gabriel that cannot be denied.

7) Annie Hall - I dated a girl once whose name was A. Hall. She had never heard of Annie Hall and I couldn't believe it. I couldn't make myself understand that someone whose name sounded like Annie Hall could live for 20 years without seeing this movie. This is one of my favorite movies, for dates or not. I think any girl who likes this movie is awesome. I say any girl because most guys like this movie. Somehow all relationship neurosis got placed on women, and you never see good depictions of male relationship neurosis in movies. So usually when you see it, it's done well. If it's not you just wind up hating the guy in the movie and not watching it. This is a good date movie because you can both sit there, look at the relationship between Diane Keaton and Woody Allen, and discuss why they're both so horribly flawed at many points in the movie and how true-to-life the movie really is (as far as film romance is concerned).

6) Brokeback Mountain - If you're a guy and you're watching this movie with your boyfriend, you're in for a long night. A long night of talking, a long night of tears, and probably a long night of passionate guy-on-guy action. For the gay readers, this is your number 1 best date movie pick, and you should go buy it right now. For hetero couples, however, this movie is still great. It's got an actual story arch and two really compelling characters. The romance between the men in the movie feels genuine, and is made even more powerful by their own struggles in dealing with their taboo feelings. Additionally, the cinematography is unbelievable. Even if you're not into the story, the art direction alone should keep you compelled. I wasn't really impressed by this movie the first time I saw it. It was in a theatre, and I was with my current girlfriend. Her brother is gay, and I had heard how much he and everyone else had just loved this film; there was so much build-up that there was really no where to go for my expectations. When the lights came up in the theatre I saw people crying, and hugging, and I was generally under-whelmed. That said, when I finally saw this movie again, without all the expectations, I realized it has a truly touching story, and it was also visually stunning.

[5 - 1] to come...

Life in Seattle Picture

2008-02-13T08:07:00.000-08:00

This is life in Seattle. It looks like this 12-months a year. This is one of my favorite pictures for the reasons I've illustrated below.

File Under: Post-Nasel Drip

2008-02-13T07:44:00.000-08:00

I'm sick today. I was sick yesterday and stayed home. Someone asked why, if I'm just sitting around at home, I haven't been updating all day. I told him I couldn't focus because of all my sickness, which was true.

I'll probably get back to updating tomorrow, but for now, I'm going to rest up (and consider going down to Herald Square to ask Julia Allison questions I make up on the spot).

16GB iPhone

2008-02-10T13:01:00.000-08:00

16GB iPhone now available, months early.

Details later... my mind is blown.

Terrible Valentine's Day Gift

2008-02-09T17:45:00.001-08:00

I think the worst gift you can give someone for Valentine's Day is a box of divorce papers.

If it's a heart-shaped box it's even more crushing, funny.

K-Fed is a Genius

2008-02-07T08:12:00.000-08:00

How in the HELL did Kevin Federline come out smelling like roses? Honestly, everyone hated him for song long, and for so many things. But now, he looks like the best father in the world, and like, the only stable thing in his kids lives. He was even ranked by Entertainment Weekly as one of the years most influential people! What? This is the "Popozao" Guy, remember? Remember?

OK, OK, maybe you just forgot. I know you have your mind on a lot of other things right now. Shit gets crazy, I know. But seriously, I feel like I'm taking crazy pills.

Here, watch this:

He needs a nut kick so bad. It's like he aspired to be the next Vanilla Ice but came up short. "LET ME SEE SOME POPOZAO!!!" Um... no. Kevin, can I call you Kevin? You're so cheezy it makes my face hurt. You're so cheezy the lactose intolerant girl next door is going into anaphalactic shock. K-Fed, you're so cheezy and corny that you could be served at Taco Bell.

But I'm glad you got away from Britney. That bitch is crazy.

Thinking about Yarmulkes

2008-02-07T07:08:00.000-08:00

The other day I was walking downtown behind a guy wearing a yarmulke, and I got to thinking. A lot of religious traditions have tangible reasons, aside from spiritual. Jewish people don't eat pork, not for religious reasons, but because back when that rule was decided all kinds of diseases were transmitted through improperly prepared pork.

The Catholics don't eat meat on Friday, and are encouraged to eat fish. This tradition has, contrary to popular belief, nothing to do with Jonah, or the fish filled with gold from the Bible, or anything like that. Back when the fish on Friday tradition was created, it was because the fishing industry in many Catholic communities was suffering, so the church passed down an edict that mandated their parishioners eat fish every Friday. I think it worked, but I'm not sure.

So I'm walking behind this guy wearing a yarmulke, trying to figure out where this tradition came from. The only thing I could think of was that the yarmulke fits perfectly over bald spots; maybe it has something to do with that.

Big Week

2008-02-06T15:37:00.000-08:00

Hey, if you're a Catholic, Football fan, whose registered to vote in New York state this is a big week for you. Go'on with your bad self.

Best. Chair. Ever.

2008-02-05T13:18:00.001-08:00

This is the actual description that I found for this drafting chair at http://www.leesartonline.com/.

"The Martin Fung Shui Chair is your power chair, designed with excellent lumbar support, and adjusts to fit your body in every way. Note the adjustable armrests included. This is theplace to where you run your personal empire. What happens here leads to success. View the door but do not be in front of it. Adjustable 18" chrome foot ring. Seat adjusts from 25-35 inches."

They forgot to mention that it spins both clockwise AND counter-clockwise, and that it will give you the ability to fly.

Facebook Status Update... Update

2008-02-05T09:03:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I observed people's Facebook status updates and tried to quantify them in a meaningful way. I think 11/73 mentioned the Super Bowl in their Facebook status on Monday, so I wanted to compare that to the amount of people who mentioned Super Tuesday, or politics, or elections in their status.

2/73 people mentioned the election, and both of them were from Seattle. Well, one was from Seattle and the other lived in Seattle with the other guy from Seattle (seriously). One person, who I met in an English class in college, had a picture of Obama on his profile, but his status was still about the Super Bowl--so I didn't count it (maybe I should have).

But I don't really think it's all that strange that people don't have resoundingly political status updates, I really don't. No one I know cares about American Idol, and yet, everyone is apparently watching it. What I mean is, just because something is on the minds of a lot of people, doesn't mean that Facebook will reflect that. That said, I think it's fair to assume that Facebook actually revealed something kind of meaningful. People really do give the Super Bowl more thought than Super Tuesday. I didn't even know what Super Tuesday was until I wikipedia-d it a few weeks ago.

So is it a bad that people are talking about football and not politics? No, absolutely not, because that doesn't necessarily mean they're not voting. I don't write about paying my electric bill, or talking to my parents on the phone, or writing emails to people I haven't talked to in a while. Usually when I'm in the course of doing those things my status says something like,

"Marc is... naming the five greaters rappers of all time: Marc, Marc, Marc, Marc, and Marc. Because I spit hot fire."

So there you go.

Classy Ads

2008-02-05T07:02:00.000-08:00

The ads on my sidebar that change based on the content of my site are about luxury condos and maid services today.

I don't know why GoogleAds thinks my blog is suddenly so swank, but you're OK, I'm OK.

Here's an example:

Um, I live in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. The only luxurious thing in my life right now is my roommate's conditioner.

But that's pretty F-ing luxurious.

Super Bowl Tuesday

2008-02-05T06:25:00.001-08:00

Does anyone else think it's kind of fishy that the big parade for the Giants is happening on Super Tuesday? Now that Guilianni is no longer in the Presidential race I'm not as suspicious, but still, it seems like some very specific planning.

Golden Child

2008-02-04T12:07:00.000-08:00

I'll let Blake explain:

"[Marc] lived in Pittsburgh, they won a Super Bowl. [Marc lives] now in New York ... Super Bowl. I think there's a glaring omission ... where's Seattle's? Pull us some strings, we need this."

It took all the focus I had just to get Seattle to the Super Bowl.

You can make someone dinner, but you can't make them hungry.

Marc is compiling data from facebook status updates

2008-02-04T11:31:00.000-08:00

I haven't yet discovered any underlying pattern or pervasive trend regarding facebook status updates, but I think the project has potential--for keeping me busy at work. Out of 243 friends, only 73 of my friends actually use the status update feature. Of those people, the average update cycle is about three days. In some cases (me, for example) status updates are made almost daily, with exceptions accounting for weeks with the same status update.

Seeing as how the SuperBowl was yesterday, I was curious how many people's status updates would reference the game. In total 11/73 of my facebook friends mentioned something about the game yesterday. Those 11 include comment like: "_______ is like, wtf," and "_______ knows that the real winner yesterday was NewsCorp." Here are some other statistics:

1/73 people alluded to the band Westlife
2/73 people are happy about having a specfic day off of work
1/73 people do not care for Burrough Tour 2008
7/73 people are "is (one word)."

My current status update reads: "Marc is gonna' make you breakfast, with eggs and toast, because it's your special day." And you know what? It's fucking true.

Call Me

2008-02-04T11:03:00.000-08:00

I'm worried about Anna Wintour. I think she could use a friend.

Tattoos At 1:47AM

2008-02-04T09:28:00.000-08:00

Last night/early this morning I was doing laundry at my local 24-hour Bright White. While I folded a pair of semi-damp wool socks, it occurred to me, in a shining beacon of incomparible granduer what the greatest tattoo in the world would be. Please, if this particular image strikes you as fast and hard as it struck me, take it upon yourself to go to your local tattoo parlor and get your ink on.

So, I'm mid-fold with some damp socks that I'm too tired and cheap to re-dry for another 6 minutes. Scrubs is on in the background, it's an episode I've seen probably four times. The night guy at Bright White is playing with his phone, has an ear piece in, and smiling with a custom gold grill that seems excessive for someone who works nights at a laundrymat--but what do I know about style?

And it hit me: Cheetara, riding a sea-foam green Vespa.

If that seemed anti-climactic you need to let it settle into your brain a little bit. Really think about it. A ThunderCat, and not just any ThunderCat, but Cheetara, riding around on a sea-foam green Vespa scooter. Helmet? No helmet, that's a silly question. ThunderCats don't wear helmets... they do wear elbow pads though.

NYC IKEA Trips

2008-01-31T10:26:00.000-08:00

No one drives in New York. Lots of people know this, but I didn't realize the gravity of that truth until a couple days ago. I was walking down the street and noticed that I lost all of the guilt I used to associate with buying a new car. Before I left for New York I was very much in "buy a new car" mode. I was looking at a sexy little coupe that was horrible on gas, and while I loved it, I always felt guilty about its flagrant over-use of fossil fuels. To that end, whenever I thought about getting a Prius or a Highlander Hybrid I wondered if I was missing out on something that the coupe offered--some degree of excitement that my "green guilt" wouldn't afford me. I'm a big fan of renewable energy initiatives, but I also like going really really fast, so there was this constant back and fourth. Ultimately, the choice was made for me when I moved to New York and no longer had to think about transportation other than the subway.

There are both very positive, and very irritating aspects of not having a car. I love not paying insurance or car payments, it's pretty sweet. Additionally, gas is expensive and another thing you have to worry about. Then there's car maintenance, which I always hated doing--even routine oil changes made me feel "put out." Also, by relegating yourself to only use public transportation you never wind up in a place longer than you want to be because you're too drunk to drive!

But not having a car can be frustrating too. Often you have to wait for subways, which isn't so bad, except when it's late at night. Occasionally I'll find myself standing on a platform at 4am, tipsy and tired, waiting for a transfer train for a half-hour. You're also kind of stuck on a subway too if it's late, which means if you have to pee you're gonna' hold it in. If you're gonna' get sick, you gotta' wait until the stop then wait for another train. If you're gonna' fall asleep, you shouldn't (because you might wind up in Coney Island).

Trips that were previously really casual and easy are instantly more difficult as well, if you've previously had regular access to a car. I eat out a lot more now. This is fundamentally because I don't like to cook, but the second reason is that in order to buy food at reasonable prices I now have to walk about 3/4 of a mile to the grocery store. "Now Marc," you say,"that's not far at all. In fact, don't you like taking walks?" Yes, dear reader, I do, but when it's this cold outside, and I have to carry bags walking is something I'm not really interested in doing. And then there's IKEA.

IKEA is a pretty sweet deal. You drive down there, get a bunch of cheap and "all right" furniture, load it up, drive it home, build it, and enjoy your new Iklorp entertainment system, or whatever you got. But when you don't have a car you either have to A) find a friend with a car who can take pity on your rideless ass and go with you, B) hire a U-Haul (which is or is not cost effective, depending on how far you're going), or C) take a shuttle bus down to IKEA and ship your purchases from the store.

Option C is actually really convenient, as it's flat $100 fee (+$10 for boroughs outside of Manhattan) to have up to 17 boxes delivered. If you go with a couple roommates, that shipping cost becomes MUCH more reasonable. This is much cheaper than shipping things through the website because shipping costs on IKEA.com are calculated per item. Additionally, your things will be delivered same day, or next day!

Editorial Note: If the New York City Marathon is on the weekend of your scheduled delivery you will likely get your IKEA purchases the following weekend.

I mention IKEA specifically because it's an ideal place to buy furniture for a New York apartment. The space is small, and changes drastically depending on where you live and what your budget is. If you move from, say, Bay Ridge, Brooklyn to Gramercy (for example) you'll probably wind up wind up with a completely different space. Because IKEA stuff is so relatively cheap, you can just Craigslist your old stuff easily, and buy new stuff that fits your new space!

That said, I also highly recommend getting furniture on Craigslist. About 2 days after I bought my loft bed, I found the exact same one on Craigslist for half the price! Keeping the shipping costs of IKEA in mind, I was planning on buying an IKEA desk for about $40, but after shipping it would have been much much more. Instead, I bought a cool secretary desk in my neighborhood from Craigslist for $50. The guy even helped me get it to my place!

Editorial Note: I wouldn't have been able to get it up my stairs without the help of everyone's favorite bartender at a Vietnam-themed restaurant, Rohan.

Having a car definitely has it's advantages and disadvantages, that's pretty obvious. But what I can say is that a car in New York City (and most surrounding areas) is just really really difficult. It's expensive to pay for parking, and if you can find free parking you usually have to move your car every other day because of street cleaning. Cops around here LOVE giving out tickets too, so if you're kind of a space-cadet parker like me, you'll easily rack up a month's rent in parking violations.

If you absolutely need a car in New York, I'd recommend getting together a bunch of your closest friends, finding one with optional monthly garage service in their building, pulling your money, and buying a cheap 1989 Bronco or something, that everyone can take turns using. But that's if all of you decide you really need a car. I say a Bronco because they're American and easier to get fixed/find parts for, you can haul a lot of stuff in one, and they have really great clutches (in my experience). But I that's a lot of organization, and I don't know anyone who needs a car that bad.

Muskrat Love

2008-01-30T15:54:00.000-08:00

If LFO existed in 1976, and were a guy in a captain's hat and a woman with a Dorothy Hamill haircut, this is what they would be:

What Draws People To Different Images?

2008-01-30T11:35:00.000-08:00

I was looking around at ffffound today, and saw the picture below. It just jumped out at me as something that I really liked looking at. Then I noticed that only 3 people had saved it, as opposed to 27 or 56 people for other pictures that I didn't find as interesting. It got me thinking about why certain people are attracted to certain visual qualities and traits. Whenever I'm looking around at ffffound I just flip through and wait for something to jump out, grab my around the chest and start shaking.

I think that's what ffffound eventually wants to become, if I understand correctly; a place where people choose different images they respond to and eventually a commonly appreciated aesthetic thread is found in their options. Then ffffound can direct its users towards other images they may appreciate, based on similar criteria from their already established visual preferences.

It's a great idea, and I'd certainly want to be a part of that kind of experiment. I'd like to know why I'm not interested in looking at a picture of two green cars (where as 10 other people think it's interesting enough to download), but I think blue shipping crates and red flags are just the coolest.

Great American Novelist

2008-01-29T09:05:00.001-08:00

Hey! I just discovered that no one owns: http://www.greatamericannovelist.com/!

How is this possible? Surely there is a self-important enough author/wannabe author who is willing to shell out the $10/year to own this domain name!

So come on all you aspiring novelists in Brooklyn, by pulling all your trust fund money you might just be able to afford this url, which will assuredly guarantee you and your book instant notoriety and fame.

Then maybe, just maybe, the world will finally get to discover your story about a boy who was an outcast in his small town, moved to "the big city," and found love and redemption in the eccentric personality of a girl who dresses at thrift stores and wears pilot's goggles to go grocery shopping. Delicious!

You're Welcome, 16th Floor

2008-01-29T08:23:00.001-08:00

Rest assured, 16th Floor.

After a long and arduous application process, physical fitness test, and extensive training; I, Marcus Finneus Ryan Cabrera, have just been named the new 16th Floor Men's Restroom Searcher.

In the event of a fire emergency, you can count on me, Marcus Finneus Ryan Cabrera, to ensure that no one is peeing when they should be fleeing.

If you have any questions, please come by my office, or call me at extension 7237.

Thank you, and God Bless.

No Recent Updatez

2008-01-29T07:10:00.001-08:00

Hey everyone,

I guess I'm at that point in my blog where I feel like I need to occasionally apologize for not updating more recently. It's one of those milestones, like buying a .com, or filing a restraining order against your biggest fan. Anyway, I've been kind of busy lately with a couple of other things, but as soon as I finish with all that noise, I'll be back here--writing about my zany adventures in New York City.

I'm going to put some words in an Excel spreadsheet now.

Loope

2008-01-24T10:28:00.000-08:00

This is twista cool. I can't imagine ever living in a space where this wouldn't look out of place, but I still think it's really interesting. There are better pictures at the link.

Twista Cool

2008-01-24T10:26:00.000-08:00

I've grown really fond of the term "twista cool," which I just made up. It's kind of like "tre chic," but about things being really cool. That said, it's not really something you can say aloud. In fact, I think describing something out loud as "twista cool" would be "twista lame." But in writing, it's a pretty dope way to describe things.

.COM Search

2008-01-23T16:01:00.000-08:00

Today, as I was typing a url into the address bar, I accidentally typed ".com" into Google and pressed enter. I found that if you search ".com" in Google, the first thing that comes up is MySpace.com, then Amazon.com, then Answers.com, then CNN.com, then CNET.com...

I wonder if that's a quick and easy way to find out which .com websites have the most traffic. Huh.

Alabaster Skin

2008-01-23T14:00:00.000-08:00

This girl read a story she wrote in one of my writing classes during college. I don't remember the story at all, but I remember when it was time for us to discuss her story a kid raised his hand and said, "I think the use of the term 'porcelain skin' is a little cliche... whenever I have to describe really white, fair skin I say "alabaster skin."

I've thought for a long time that that was just a really annoying thing to say. He said it in this really condescending way too, like he had the solution to her problem, and it was thus. I mean, honestly, alabaster skin is almost as cliche as porcelain skin--it might even be about equal in over-used-ness.

I was neither of the people in this story, just an objective observer. The kid who commented was kind of my arch-nemesis in college. He always carried around this little glass bottle of Perrier water around with him that clanked especially loud when he put it down before class. He also wore a really nice, long black wool coat that seethed with misunderstood artisanship. What was even more annoying was that he wasn't completely un-aware of himself. Truth be told--aside from the alabaster skin thing--he was pretty talented.

After our last class, in our Senior year of college, I was sitting in a hallway waiting for someone, and he came up to me. A piece I wrote for a writing magazine on campus had been accepted and was recently published. He was not in the magazine, though he submitted plenty of his own work. We never overtly disliked each other, and actually had a few fairly good conversations in the past, but this was different. He walked up to me and told me how surprised he was that my piece had been chosen--not because it was bad, but that it just wasn't my best work. Because, you see, we'd taken lots of classes together, and we'd heard each other's writing many many times before. "I just feel like you've written much better things in the past, that's all," he said.

"Thanks," I said. "Did you get anything in this year?"
"No, not this year."
"Oh, that's too bad," I said.

Checkmate... bitch.

New York City Trip

2008-01-23T06:21:00.001-08:00

This is New York... if you've taken a bunch of acid.

1AM

2008-01-22T22:00:00.001-08:00

It's nearly 1:00am and I can't sleep for anything. 1:00am isn't so late, but given that I didn't sleep at all last night either I'm starting to wonder how/if I'm going to function tomorrow. I've got all these ideas shooting through my head, and evolving, and spinning around wildly. It's such a passionate stream of consciousness that there's no logical endpoint, and the endorphins--that are triggering as a result of my mind's own self-congratulatory excitement--are preventing me from even trying to find a place to leave my manic monologue for the night. It's like my brain has restless leg syndrome.

I've got to get some sleep, this is insane. The worst part is that when I got home today I was exhausted. Last night I took a nap at 6:30pm, and woke up at 9:30pm. This kept me awake until 2:00am, and I kept waking up during the night. I didn't want to do that again, so I powered through 7:00, and 8:00, and 9:00... then I got my second wind. I started watching "The Millionaire Matchmaker" and finally went to bed at midnight. But it's 1:00am now. I've been tossing around for an hour and I don't see any end in sight. I'd take an Ambien, but I only have one left, and I feel like it would go to waste when I couldn't possibly get 8 hours of sleep tonight.

The Ambien are from my wrist surgery, which was months ago. I came to taking them when I moved to New York because I'm a light sleeper as it is, and that coupled with the over-stimulus and inherent stress that this city provides I needed something to knock me the F out.

I'm kind of hungry, maybe I'll eat something. I also kind of want to watch "Tron." But I probably won't do any of those things. I'll probably just go to bed, and hope that writing this will have filled the restless desire to do something productive while that's keeping me awake.

Oh, and for some reason this blog posts on west coast time, so even though the time stamp reads 10:00pm, it's really 1:00am.

Annoying Ads

2008-01-22T13:28:00.000-08:00

Just because I used the word "personality" in a post, all the GoogleAds in my sidebar are about personality disorder tests! WTF? That's not what this blog is about, not at all. So here's a short list of words that will hopefully prompt new ads to appear:

iPhone, Documentary, Documentary about iPhone, American Revolution, Playwright, Spelunking, Rome, Oscars, Coffee Mug, Eddie Izzard, Vh1, Time Travel, Pommel horse.

An Open Letter To Facebook Applications

2008-01-18T13:45:00.000-08:00

Dear Facebook Applications,

All right, as is evident by my facebook profile, I LOVE facebook applications. I like the quizzes, and the personality tests, and the playing Oregon Trail, and the like. I also love when arbitrary tests/quizzes claim to tell me about my personality! Biz knows this first hand, as we used to use library study time during European History class taking Cosmo Quizzes. With that in mind, I added an application called something about your astrological sign and what your birth date means.

I signed up, then it said, "invite 20 friends so you can see your full profile!" I thought surely there are 20 people on facebook who wouldn't care if I sent them the invite to some stupid app. I did think it was weird because most apps don't ask you to do this, but whatever. So I did it, then this damn pop-up appears that I can't click out of! It asks me to choose my gender, and I immediately knew where this was going. Like I said, I tried to click out and all these little boxes popped up that said things like "ARE YOU SURE YOU don't WANT EXIT OUT?"

The more I clicked the more elaborate the stupid little "Are you sure?" boxes kept popping up!!! So I was like, aw fuck it, let's see if this is a credit card scam, a cell phone scam, or a social security scam. The next question after gender was actually a request: "Please enter your cell phone number." What in the hell does that have to do with my zodiac sign and how that will tell me about my personality? How? Tell me, facebook... tell me.

So if you were one of the 20 people I sent this too don't load it up, it's a piece of shit and will make you really frustrated and angry. It, at least, got me worked up.

PS: WTF Scrabulous? That sucks Milton-Bradley pulled the plug on you. Why don't you just take out all the Scrabble colors and stuff, use generic names for everything, change your name to something like "WORD MADNESS," and call yourself a parody of Scrabble? That will hold up in court, just ask Roy Orbison/2 Live Crew.

Finally, A Soup I Don't Love

2008-01-18T12:09:00.000-08:00

I've started going to Hale and Hearty's Soup for lunch. While I've been on a recent packing my own lunch kick, some soup and a sandwich are a nice dalliance from the PB & J that I usually make.

Every time I go to Hale and Hearty's I try a new soup. And I don't sample first, oh no, Dear Reader--it's the only degree of gambling I'm really willing to participate in. Usually I love the soups, and am welcomed to a new taste sensation when I get back to my desk.

But today, a soup I thought would be good, Coconut Chicken, was just OK. I didn't hate it, mind you, it just didn't rock my world. To be honest, it was a little bland. I had high hopes for the soup, however, because

{I use to work at this cafe in Bellingham, WA that made an amazing Thai Ginger Chicken soup. My old roommate, David, brought me a big yogurt container of it one day after work and it was one of the best gifts I have ever received.}

So, you know, I probably won't get it again. I have other soups to try, and I don't have the time to spend on soups that don't change my life.

Hot Internet Property

2008-01-18T11:55:00.000-08:00

I've gotten 2 "winks" on match.com in the last week and a half. My grand total right now is 3. Somehow, however, this is not inspiring me to join. I guess it's hard for me to spend $40 ($30 a month for 3 months, $20 a month for 6 months) on something I still am not convinced is worthwhile.

But I also think I would have a fundamental problem ever committing to someone on match.com. This isn't because there would be that stigma of meeting on the Internet. On the contrary, I love the Internet, I think it's a good resource for, well, everything! It only makes sense that as we evolve services like this appear. It's more that with how people are commodified in such an obvious, simple way on match.com I'm afraid I would always think, "oh, she came up on my search for single women in the area a month ago, but what would happen if I searched now?" It gives you this easy, "could I do better?" feeling that is inescapable. It has the potential to make you think that you're settling, and if you just keep clicking that search button you could find someone better.

In the real world this kind of trepidation doesn't happen as much because often people meet through shared events, or friends, or whatever. Even random encounters in the "real world" don't display this kind of "easy, can I do better" dilemma because in real-life people understand how rare that sort of thing really is. Where as on match.com there's an endless pool of single people all looking for the same thing. But is that necessarily a bad thing?

It makes perfect logical sense that a bunch of people with the same goal would come together like this. But as I said before, this kind of solution is just evolution. We created a very simple solution to a common "problem." And there are side-effects: objectification; invalidation from the sense of a "false" encounter (romantics would call it that at least, the people who believe in words like "fate" and "destiny"); and maybe even the feeling like you gave up and copped out, submitting yourself to this thing that anti-social losers do between games of World of Warcraft and driving their mothers to the grocery store and the pharmacy.

Where was I? Oh yeah, so I don't know whether or not to follow up on these winks. The reason for this is because every wink I get is from a more attractive person, who seems more interesting than the last. I keep thinking that if I hold out long enough Giselle Bunchen will have finally joined match.com and she'll wink at me and tell me how much she likes the picture of me where I'm holding a beer.

Good Quert

2008-01-18T11:52:00.000-08:00

"The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right place but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment."

-Dorothy Nevill

Oh, Snap! That's a good quert! I don't know who Dorothy Nevill is (is she related to Aaron Nevill), but she's got some wisdom. I love words, but more than that, I love thinking about how words are used. When I read this quert it makes me really think about the value of shutting the hell up sometimes. Good quert, good quert indeed.

Feature Sidebar Ad Website

2008-01-17T06:57:00.000-08:00

I think I'll start featuring a few of the websites from the ads in my sidebar. Some of them are pretty hilarious. Here's the first one:

PuppyPetite.com

There are a number of things I love about this website. First, it's crazy amateurish, but you know given all the crazy effects on the page, someone is trying really really hard to make it "pop!" I also really enjoy how they say you have to pick the puppies up personally because they won't ship them. What the hell kind of person thinks, "Yeah, I want a puppy. Can you UPS Ground Mail that?" Actually, I can see Paris Hilton thinking that pretty easily.

This is just the Pug page, but as you can see from the fuzzy pink titles on the left (that are blinking on the actual page) PuppyPetitie.com offers many types of dogs. The common thread throughout all the dog pages is that there are huge amounts of dog pictures that are oddly suggestive, and illicit all kinds of boudoir photo imagery--note the above picture of the Pug in the basket.

PuppyPetite.com, it's like Old Navy... but for dogs.

Ads in the Sidebar

2008-01-16T21:03:00.000-08:00

In case you haven't noticed, I put up some ads in the sidebar. These are really basic GoogleAds that pay me based on the amount of clicks they receive.

It's with that in mind that I tell you that I don't write this site to make money. After all, why would I need money with a cushy publishing job like mine? Exactly. The benefits of this website for me are purely psychic. However, that's not to say that a little extra cash wouldn't hurt...

I guess what I'm saying is that it would be great if you could click on the ad links once in a while. Some of them are actually kind of interesting. They're based on topics related to key words in my posts, so sometimes they wind up being pretty quirky and bizarre.

Oh, I almost forgot! I'm going to buy drinks for my friends (as many as I can) with my first GoogleAds check! What's the point of getting cash for something you'd otherwise do for free if you can't get your peeps drunk, right?

Overthinking

2008-01-16T20:53:00.000-08:00

Do you ever think about something so much that you're convinced everyone you know already knows about it, and then you're surprised when they don't know what you're talking about? That happens to me pretty often. A good example is this other web project I'll be starting soon. I constantly thought about it for about two weeks and then brought it up in conversation with a friend and realized I'd told NO ONE about it except my roommates.

I've found this happens pretty often with me, and was just curious if other people experience this or if I'm just a space cadet. I guess part of it too is that I learned a few years ago that people actually talk about me when I'm not around, which blew my mind. That's not to say people gossip, they just talk about other people they know with mutual friends. I know, it seems absurd that I didn't realize this, but I just never thought about it. With that in mind, maybe I'm unconsciously giving the grape vine too much credit. What's even more absurd about my disbelief of this pretty basic human form of interaction is that I talk about people's lives all the time--about what they're doing, different things--because I think what other people are doing is just completely fascinating! So why would I assume so naively that other people don't do this? Huh.

Wii Injuries

2008-01-15T17:34:00.000-08:00

Is it pathetic that I woke up this morning with some sore muscles and joints from playing Wii all night? Wait, I don't think that should be a question. If I was to think of a word for one who is achy from playing Wii it would be "Wii-nis." I'm such a Wii-nis.