Yesterday after work I hustled down to Bumble and Bumble, way over on the far west side of 13th street, to see if I could be a model for their students program and get a cool haircut for free before Nick's wedding on June 3rd (coming up fast, ain't it?). Thankfully, my long locks and curly mane passed muster and made the grade. The evaluating stylist signed my application and directed me over to the booking desk.
I figured it might be a few weeks before they could see me, but I almost lost my balance when the girl behind the counter penciled me in for a cut on the 10th...of August! Well, if I get my hair trimmed now, I'll actually be due for another cut by the time that appointment rolls around.
When I was leaving I asked some other approved models when they managed to get their appointments scheduled- May 12th. Wow, a whole 4 days! What a back log! And I have only...around 99 to go.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Fake Inner Racist goes for a swim!
Yesterday, while swimming laps at the NYC Parks and Recreation Pool in Chelsea, the Fake Inner Racist in me thought: "A black lifeguard? Isn't that like, an oxymoron? They can't be serious; is this some kind of joke? We all know black people can't swim- to save their lives and especially mine. I've seen Survivor, man, and those black dudes just sink right to the bottom of the ocean everytime."
The lifeguard most often on duty at the Williamsburg pool directs most of his attention to any cute girl in the slow lane who doesn't know how to swim. He saunters over and offers her a free lesson in the crawl while swimmers in other lanes could be drowing en masse and he'd never know. Correction: if the drowning victim were a hot girl who lost her top in the process, he'd be all over that.
The lifeguard most often on duty at the Williamsburg pool directs most of his attention to any cute girl in the slow lane who doesn't know how to swim. He saunters over and offers her a free lesson in the crawl while swimmers in other lanes could be drowing en masse and he'd never know. Correction: if the drowning victim were a hot girl who lost her top in the process, he'd be all over that.
Moratorium Addendum: Brokeback Humor
I am pleading for a cease and desist to all Brokeback Mountain-related humor. Any jokes that mention the phrase, "just can't quit you" are seriously played, my players, and are simply devoid of all humor whatsover by now, May of 2006. If you go the easy route, make the joke, and someone does indeed laugh, just know that you're not funny- it's merely a polite courtesy giggle at best.
A Grave Case of McPhee-ver
Anyone else suffering from the McPhee-ver lately? And when I say "suffering," I mean "enjoying immensely."
Monday, May 08, 2006
Geoffrey's Spring Book Round-Up
I've been doing my best taking advantage of my New York Public Library card (and immaturely smirking everytime I type nypl.org into my naviagtion bar). Here's a quick rundown of the books I've consumed over the last few months...
Teacher Man by Frank McCourt
I hadn't read Angela's Ashes or 'Tis, but I saw nothing but stellar reviews when this was a released a few months ago. It took while to get it through the library with all the reserves and requests, but it was well worth the wait. For anyone, like me, who's been thrown into the classroom with minimal training and asked to teach, this book's for you. McCourt taught English in the New York public school system for nearly 30 years, and this collection of stories, recollections, and memoirs is humorous, enveloping, and reflective.
Education of a Coach by Dave Halberstam
A must-read for any big time Patriots/Bill Belichick fan, Halberstam probably devotes more ink to Bill's father, Steve, who was a great football mind and college scout in his own right. A wonderful, insightful look into Belichick's mind, his uprninging, and his relationship with his father.
Open Wide by Dade Hayes and Jonathan Bing
This book follows and tracks 3 movie studio marketing teams as they try to get the word out on their big summer tent-pole film released over July 4th weekend of 2003: Terminator 2, Legally Blonde 2, and Sinbad (that disastrous animated movie that time has already forgotten). Tjis one really puts the "business" in showbusiness, and it discourages anyone who reads it from making a Hollywood movie. The hoops writers and directors must jump through to get their movies made, and then the whole product is torn to shreds once market-research comes back from the field with an unfavorable rating. This books pretty detail-oriented, but has some fascinating parts nevertheless. Sort of takes the fun out of seeing a movie when you realize all the work that goes into the marketing and audience-research behind these movies.
Men And Cartoons by Jonathan Lethem
Great, diverse collection of short stories, many of them involving superheroes in everyday, unusual circumstances. This was the first piece of literature I've read of Lethem's, although I've heard good things about his work for some time.
Killing Yourself To Live by Chuck Klosterman
From the author of Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, one of the most entertaining books I've read in recent memory, comes a new book about Klosterman's road-trip across America visiting places where great rock stars have died. It sounds like a hard sell, but it's a very easy read. You learn a lot about Chuck and a bunch about the rock stars and how they died, but Klosterman's reporting skills around the towns he visits come in handy. I had no idea there would be so much backstory about Klosterman's love life and the significant women in his past and present, but I found it compelling and forthright. Lots of laughs, but a few tears also.
Freaks of the Storm by Randy Cerveny
I'm currently in the middle of this one about the world's strangest true weather stories. A lot of bizarre weather-related things going on in this here world.
Rebels On The Backlot: Six Maverick Directors And How They Connquered The Studio System by Sharon Waxman
Guess the title is fairly self-explanatory. I had wanted to read this for a long time, mainly because these are some of my favorite directors and they made most of my favorite movies during a formative time of my life. This one follows the lives and careers of David O. Russell, Quentin Tarantino, Paul Thomas Anderson, Spike Jonze, David Fincher, Steven Soderbergh as they fight the evil, senseless, suffocating studio systems while trying to get their movies made. Filled with great anecdotes, behind-the-scenes stories, and everything in between.
Front Cover: Great Book Jacket And Cover Design by Alan Powers
Great stuff. Definitely worth a gander.
Don't Get Too Comfortable by David Rakoff
I was a little disappointed in this, Rakoff's second collection of essays, after enjoying Fraud so much. He seems to be grumpier and grouchier with age, and that doesn't equal more humor, bigger laughs, and deeper insight. There are a few nuggets here and there, but I was put off by how many times Rakoff had to mention that he was a single, embittered New York-area gay man in his 40's. No matter what the story or subject matter, that always managed to be brought up and discussed, no matter what the context. It got old real quick.
Ice Haven by Daniel Clowes
From the author of Ghost World is this graphic novel about a group of disparate neighbors who populate a small town. I'm not a huge graphic novel reader- I've read Jimmy Corrigan, Maus, and maybe one or two others, but I've enjoyed them all, and I'd like to read more in the future. I really appreciate Clowes' art style, and his sense of humor can be a bit chilling at times. At times sad, comically perverse, and outright odd, it's a quick read, perhaps to quick. I was left a little mystified by the sudden conclusion, and I wished it was a little longer.
Teacher Man by Frank McCourt
I hadn't read Angela's Ashes or 'Tis, but I saw nothing but stellar reviews when this was a released a few months ago. It took while to get it through the library with all the reserves and requests, but it was well worth the wait. For anyone, like me, who's been thrown into the classroom with minimal training and asked to teach, this book's for you. McCourt taught English in the New York public school system for nearly 30 years, and this collection of stories, recollections, and memoirs is humorous, enveloping, and reflective.
Education of a Coach by Dave Halberstam
A must-read for any big time Patriots/Bill Belichick fan, Halberstam probably devotes more ink to Bill's father, Steve, who was a great football mind and college scout in his own right. A wonderful, insightful look into Belichick's mind, his uprninging, and his relationship with his father.
Open Wide by Dade Hayes and Jonathan Bing
This book follows and tracks 3 movie studio marketing teams as they try to get the word out on their big summer tent-pole film released over July 4th weekend of 2003: Terminator 2, Legally Blonde 2, and Sinbad (that disastrous animated movie that time has already forgotten). Tjis one really puts the "business" in showbusiness, and it discourages anyone who reads it from making a Hollywood movie. The hoops writers and directors must jump through to get their movies made, and then the whole product is torn to shreds once market-research comes back from the field with an unfavorable rating. This books pretty detail-oriented, but has some fascinating parts nevertheless. Sort of takes the fun out of seeing a movie when you realize all the work that goes into the marketing and audience-research behind these movies.
Men And Cartoons by Jonathan Lethem
Great, diverse collection of short stories, many of them involving superheroes in everyday, unusual circumstances. This was the first piece of literature I've read of Lethem's, although I've heard good things about his work for some time.
Killing Yourself To Live by Chuck Klosterman
From the author of Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, one of the most entertaining books I've read in recent memory, comes a new book about Klosterman's road-trip across America visiting places where great rock stars have died. It sounds like a hard sell, but it's a very easy read. You learn a lot about Chuck and a bunch about the rock stars and how they died, but Klosterman's reporting skills around the towns he visits come in handy. I had no idea there would be so much backstory about Klosterman's love life and the significant women in his past and present, but I found it compelling and forthright. Lots of laughs, but a few tears also.
Freaks of the Storm by Randy Cerveny
I'm currently in the middle of this one about the world's strangest true weather stories. A lot of bizarre weather-related things going on in this here world.
Rebels On The Backlot: Six Maverick Directors And How They Connquered The Studio System by Sharon Waxman
Guess the title is fairly self-explanatory. I had wanted to read this for a long time, mainly because these are some of my favorite directors and they made most of my favorite movies during a formative time of my life. This one follows the lives and careers of David O. Russell, Quentin Tarantino, Paul Thomas Anderson, Spike Jonze, David Fincher, Steven Soderbergh as they fight the evil, senseless, suffocating studio systems while trying to get their movies made. Filled with great anecdotes, behind-the-scenes stories, and everything in between.
Front Cover: Great Book Jacket And Cover Design by Alan Powers
Great stuff. Definitely worth a gander.
Don't Get Too Comfortable by David Rakoff
I was a little disappointed in this, Rakoff's second collection of essays, after enjoying Fraud so much. He seems to be grumpier and grouchier with age, and that doesn't equal more humor, bigger laughs, and deeper insight. There are a few nuggets here and there, but I was put off by how many times Rakoff had to mention that he was a single, embittered New York-area gay man in his 40's. No matter what the story or subject matter, that always managed to be brought up and discussed, no matter what the context. It got old real quick.
Ice Haven by Daniel Clowes
From the author of Ghost World is this graphic novel about a group of disparate neighbors who populate a small town. I'm not a huge graphic novel reader- I've read Jimmy Corrigan, Maus, and maybe one or two others, but I've enjoyed them all, and I'd like to read more in the future. I really appreciate Clowes' art style, and his sense of humor can be a bit chilling at times. At times sad, comically perverse, and outright odd, it's a quick read, perhaps to quick. I was left a little mystified by the sudden conclusion, and I wished it was a little longer.
Calling Out A Moratorium
Some of you heavy users may not like this, but people saying "Anyhoo" has got to come to an end. Soon!
While we're at it, I'm still very leery of "Twenty Four Seven." It's just not passing muster, and whenever anyone over the age of 35 utters it, I just want to laugh.
While we're at it, I'm still very leery of "Twenty Four Seven." It's just not passing muster, and whenever anyone over the age of 35 utters it, I just want to laugh.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Doggone It!
For Mom's Christmas present last year, Nick thought it would be a good idea to buy her tickets to the big, grandaddy-o of dogs shows, the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, held every year in mid-February at Madison Square Garden. She loves dogs, we used to watch it on TV together every year, and she always said she'd make it there one day, so Nick and I thought it would make a terrific gift. Nick bought one ticket for Mom, and since he had the radio show to do every weeknight, he bought a ticket for me so I could accompany her.
The show is spread out over 2 days, so Nick got tickets for the second night, where they judge 3 breeds and then pick the best in show to cap off the event. Being 11 weeks away, we thought that would give our Mom plenty of time to make arrangements for a trip down to NY, seeing as she doesn't work anymore and that she has a rather light schedule these days.
Unfortunately, Mom wasn't feeling that well come February 14th, so Nick and I were stuck with these two tickets he had purchased way back in December. We thought she'd make the drive down, but she cancelled the trip the night before. We didn't have enough time to post them on craigslist or sell them, and nobody we knew was free and/or interested in going to a dog show on Valentine's Day night. Not wanting to eat the tickets entirely, I called 5 or so people to no avail and decided just to go on my own. I love dogs, too, but it turned out to be a lot more entertaining than I thought it would be.
After work, I walked 2 blocks south to the Garden, and I saw all these owners and handlers walking around with their dogs outside- all the nearby hotels were booked solid with owners, handlers, and canines. I stood outside for a few minutes, wondering if there was any way I could scalp my second, unused ticket, but I had no luck. There were a few creepy-looking scalpers roaming around, but they didn't seem to be that successful, so I gave up quickly andf went inside.
The cool thing about going to this show is you don't just find your seat, sit down, and watch the judging. The Garden's open all day long while each Best of Breed competition is going on, and they let everyone walk back into the doggy clubhouse where the dogs nap in their crates, where the handlers groom them relentlessly, and audience members can schmooze with the owners and find out how to buy a dog just like that one in the show. It was literally like walking into a live version
of 'Best In Show.' I bumped into every character from that movie 10 times over.
It felt like a giant sociology petrie dish in this "benching area." Owners actually sitting inside the crates with their dogs while reading a paperback novel to kill time (there's a LOT of waiting around), loads of gay men, blow dryer and brush in hand, quibbling over how to comb their dogs hair, and loads of midwestern women in the 40-55 age range, some dog owners, some paid guests like myself.
These dogs were treated better than most people. Every dog had their own personal fan attached to their crate.
At one point I found myself in a sea of 15 borzois surrounding me at every angle. I know they're just dogs, but those big fellas with their long, horse-like faces give me the willies, especially seeing so many at once.
I know it was a dog show, but for me it turned into more of a perverse people-watching show, the unintentional comedy scale being upended and broken again and again.
Once I found my seat inside the arena at 8pm, the show began and I was treated to more wacko characters sitting in front of me and behind me. When the golden retriever won best of group (man, middle america sure does love golden retrievers, pugs, and german shephards. I mean, how mainstream can they get? This golden retriever could have had one eye and two legs and this crowd would have fainted with praise over it.) A woman and mother of 2 in front of me started crying with joy and her two kids jumped up and down like it was Christmas morning. She had a girl and a boy, and the boy was 11 or 12, just on the cusp of puberty. In a year or two he'll be listening to Puddle of Mudd, contemplating drugs and obsessing over girls, but for tonight he's jumping up and down with his mother and younger sister, yelling in a hihg-pitched voice bound to start breaking any day. Were they the owners? No, they just had a golden retiever at home and liked them. It's like watching a passionate crowd root for their favorite team at a football game, except here they're all cheering on supremely-groomed canines.
Most annoying of all throughout the night was this middle-aged woman sitting directly behind me with her daughter. She was either the owner of or had something to do with the Australian cattle dog in the competition. She didn't stop yapping about how great this dog "Rebel" was the entire night, and she was talking to anyone around her that would listen, directlyu into my ear. The coup de grace was when she referred to the dog as her grandson and then broke into a tale about her great-grandson. This was, at most, a 45 year old woman. Some confused elderly woman with a southern twang sitting a few seats away to he right was puzzled. "Now, are you talking about a person or are you talking about the dog?" because we were all a little confused. Ultimately we could have cared less, but we were confused nevertheless. Of course, she stopped her yapping when old Rebel didn't place in the hearding group. She actually started crying foul and saying the judges were too
narrow-minded, that one day Australia would get its due, and that the olde english sheep dog winning was so blah and 5 years ago. This woman also brought along her 5-year-old daughter with her, and that back-and-forth dialogue, as exasperating as it was, was pretty funny. In my head I kept thinking, "This is great stuff! I should be writing it all down!"
As the hound group competetion was about to begin, some nerdy, heavy-set guy way up in the back screamed out for the entire Garden to hear, "Release The Hounds!!!" and it got a huge laugh. I laughed, too, but for all the wrong reasons. I think there were some high-fives shared afterwards between the screamer and his circle of hound-lovin' compatriots.
The crowd was ready to tear the roof off for that retriever in the finals, but the colored bull terrier (not a particularly attractive dog, but I'll admit he was very steady and poised) ended up taking home the crown.
I know Best In Show already did a great job lampooning this subculture, but this was a treasure trove for untapped unintentional humor, and I was only there for a mere 5 hours. You really have to see it and experience it to believe it. As cynical as I may come across in this recap, I ended up enjoying myself and having a much better time than I had originally anticipated, even though I was there solo.
The show is spread out over 2 days, so Nick got tickets for the second night, where they judge 3 breeds and then pick the best in show to cap off the event. Being 11 weeks away, we thought that would give our Mom plenty of time to make arrangements for a trip down to NY, seeing as she doesn't work anymore and that she has a rather light schedule these days.
Unfortunately, Mom wasn't feeling that well come February 14th, so Nick and I were stuck with these two tickets he had purchased way back in December. We thought she'd make the drive down, but she cancelled the trip the night before. We didn't have enough time to post them on craigslist or sell them, and nobody we knew was free and/or interested in going to a dog show on Valentine's Day night. Not wanting to eat the tickets entirely, I called 5 or so people to no avail and decided just to go on my own. I love dogs, too, but it turned out to be a lot more entertaining than I thought it would be.
After work, I walked 2 blocks south to the Garden, and I saw all these owners and handlers walking around with their dogs outside- all the nearby hotels were booked solid with owners, handlers, and canines. I stood outside for a few minutes, wondering if there was any way I could scalp my second, unused ticket, but I had no luck. There were a few creepy-looking scalpers roaming around, but they didn't seem to be that successful, so I gave up quickly andf went inside.
The cool thing about going to this show is you don't just find your seat, sit down, and watch the judging. The Garden's open all day long while each Best of Breed competition is going on, and they let everyone walk back into the doggy clubhouse where the dogs nap in their crates, where the handlers groom them relentlessly, and audience members can schmooze with the owners and find out how to buy a dog just like that one in the show. It was literally like walking into a live version
of 'Best In Show.' I bumped into every character from that movie 10 times over.
It felt like a giant sociology petrie dish in this "benching area." Owners actually sitting inside the crates with their dogs while reading a paperback novel to kill time (there's a LOT of waiting around), loads of gay men, blow dryer and brush in hand, quibbling over how to comb their dogs hair, and loads of midwestern women in the 40-55 age range, some dog owners, some paid guests like myself.
These dogs were treated better than most people. Every dog had their own personal fan attached to their crate.
At one point I found myself in a sea of 15 borzois surrounding me at every angle. I know they're just dogs, but those big fellas with their long, horse-like faces give me the willies, especially seeing so many at once.
I know it was a dog show, but for me it turned into more of a perverse people-watching show, the unintentional comedy scale being upended and broken again and again.
Once I found my seat inside the arena at 8pm, the show began and I was treated to more wacko characters sitting in front of me and behind me. When the golden retriever won best of group (man, middle america sure does love golden retrievers, pugs, and german shephards. I mean, how mainstream can they get? This golden retriever could have had one eye and two legs and this crowd would have fainted with praise over it.) A woman and mother of 2 in front of me started crying with joy and her two kids jumped up and down like it was Christmas morning. She had a girl and a boy, and the boy was 11 or 12, just on the cusp of puberty. In a year or two he'll be listening to Puddle of Mudd, contemplating drugs and obsessing over girls, but for tonight he's jumping up and down with his mother and younger sister, yelling in a hihg-pitched voice bound to start breaking any day. Were they the owners? No, they just had a golden retiever at home and liked them. It's like watching a passionate crowd root for their favorite team at a football game, except here they're all cheering on supremely-groomed canines.
Most annoying of all throughout the night was this middle-aged woman sitting directly behind me with her daughter. She was either the owner of or had something to do with the Australian cattle dog in the competition. She didn't stop yapping about how great this dog "Rebel" was the entire night, and she was talking to anyone around her that would listen, directlyu into my ear. The coup de grace was when she referred to the dog as her grandson and then broke into a tale about her great-grandson. This was, at most, a 45 year old woman. Some confused elderly woman with a southern twang sitting a few seats away to he right was puzzled. "Now, are you talking about a person or are you talking about the dog?" because we were all a little confused. Ultimately we could have cared less, but we were confused nevertheless. Of course, she stopped her yapping when old Rebel didn't place in the hearding group. She actually started crying foul and saying the judges were too
narrow-minded, that one day Australia would get its due, and that the olde english sheep dog winning was so blah and 5 years ago. This woman also brought along her 5-year-old daughter with her, and that back-and-forth dialogue, as exasperating as it was, was pretty funny. In my head I kept thinking, "This is great stuff! I should be writing it all down!"
As the hound group competetion was about to begin, some nerdy, heavy-set guy way up in the back screamed out for the entire Garden to hear, "Release The Hounds!!!" and it got a huge laugh. I laughed, too, but for all the wrong reasons. I think there were some high-fives shared afterwards between the screamer and his circle of hound-lovin' compatriots.
The crowd was ready to tear the roof off for that retriever in the finals, but the colored bull terrier (not a particularly attractive dog, but I'll admit he was very steady and poised) ended up taking home the crown.
I know Best In Show already did a great job lampooning this subculture, but this was a treasure trove for untapped unintentional humor, and I was only there for a mere 5 hours. You really have to see it and experience it to believe it. As cynical as I may come across in this recap, I ended up enjoying myself and having a much better time than I had originally anticipated, even though I was there solo.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Sticky Space Bars
I think I'd be more apt to write here and spend less of my work downtime reading a book and checking my email if I had a better keyboard. The standard office-issue keypad in these parts is a black Dell model. And it's not a quiet key, so the rap-tap-tap of the keys is a bit louder than I'd prefer, especially in this eerily quiet office space. If I get on a typing tear and I'm going at full-steam, I get a little paranoid that those around me will catch on and realize how little I have to do during the day.
But, truth be told, this keybpard is just bad. Plain and simple. My biggest beef is the space bar; it sticks something terrible, and it drives me NUTS. Every sentence I type has at least two words combined, and then I have to go back and space them out. I talked to IT, and they had me use an air blower to dislodge tiny particles that could be deep down in the keyboard causing the problems, but it didn't help (though, admittedly, there was a lot of junk doen there).
I guess my IBM laptop has spoiled me. At this point, I'll take just about any laptop keyboard over a standard desktop board. After 7 years of laptop typing on a Fujitsu and an IBM, going back to the old keyboard feels clunky and laborious. When I interned at the newspaper in Cyprus, I brought my laptop into work and spurned the regular old computer they assigned me. I still have no idea how I was able to hook my laptop up to their network, but I fiddled around with it for about 15 minutes, and somehow I hooked it up.
So for now I'm stunk with this old clunker, but I'm going to take some action soon.
But, truth be told, this keybpard is just bad. Plain and simple. My biggest beef is the space bar; it sticks something terrible, and it drives me NUTS. Every sentence I type has at least two words combined, and then I have to go back and space them out. I talked to IT, and they had me use an air blower to dislodge tiny particles that could be deep down in the keyboard causing the problems, but it didn't help (though, admittedly, there was a lot of junk doen there).
I guess my IBM laptop has spoiled me. At this point, I'll take just about any laptop keyboard over a standard desktop board. After 7 years of laptop typing on a Fujitsu and an IBM, going back to the old keyboard feels clunky and laborious. When I interned at the newspaper in Cyprus, I brought my laptop into work and spurned the regular old computer they assigned me. I still have no idea how I was able to hook my laptop up to their network, but I fiddled around with it for about 15 minutes, and somehow I hooked it up.
So for now I'm stunk with this old clunker, but I'm going to take some action soon.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Whenever I've made a reference to OK Soda in the past, I'm always met with a puzzled look and a, "Huh? What's that?" Then I usually say something along the lines of, "You don't remember OK Soda? It was put out by Coke for like, less than a year when I was in middle school, so somewhere in the early-to-mid-90s. They had this crazy, anti-ad ad campaign. Everything was in black and white, the commericals, the cans. And the cans had this weird comic book art on them. Oh, and you could call this 1-800 number and leave a message about how OK Soda invariably made you feel OK. How did it taste? Well, sort of like Coke mixed with orange soda and a sip of Dr. Pepper. Man, I wish it were still around." And whoever I'm telling this to usually looks at me like OK Soda was something I've made up in my fantastical imagination.
Well, thanks to Wikipedia, I now know why so many people don't remember OK- because most of the country never drank it or saw it! It was only test-marketed in a select number of cities (Boston being one of the lucky municipalities) for a 7 month window starting in the summer of 1994. Then it was yanked from the shelves, never to be seen or consumed again.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Postal
Gotta love post office efficiency.
Early this morning before work, I went to the post office to send the license plates to my deceased 1996 Saab (with only 89.000 miles- can you believe it?!) back to my insurance company in Braintree so the insurance can be officially cancelled.
This post office, on 38th and 7th, is one busy place. Go in at mid-day and the line is 20 deep. I wish I were joking. So I go in the morning to avoid the crowds. Except this morning, there's only 1 person working out of a possible 14 windows. One window open? Are they nuts? I got in line, behind 5 people, and by the time I got to the front there were a good 6 or 7 people behind me. I don't get it- if you have all those windows, and you know you're one of the busiest post offices in town, why not staff it accordingly, or at least have more than 1 window open?
At least this office is better than the one in Bushwick. In my neighborhood, it's the most ghetto, stripped down post office. Bring your own pen, because you're not gonna find one to use there. And you're divided from all the employees by thick, bullet-proof plexiglass. It feels more like a high-security detention center than a post office.
Early this morning before work, I went to the post office to send the license plates to my deceased 1996 Saab (with only 89.000 miles- can you believe it?!) back to my insurance company in Braintree so the insurance can be officially cancelled.
This post office, on 38th and 7th, is one busy place. Go in at mid-day and the line is 20 deep. I wish I were joking. So I go in the morning to avoid the crowds. Except this morning, there's only 1 person working out of a possible 14 windows. One window open? Are they nuts? I got in line, behind 5 people, and by the time I got to the front there were a good 6 or 7 people behind me. I don't get it- if you have all those windows, and you know you're one of the busiest post offices in town, why not staff it accordingly, or at least have more than 1 window open?
At least this office is better than the one in Bushwick. In my neighborhood, it's the most ghetto, stripped down post office. Bring your own pen, because you're not gonna find one to use there. And you're divided from all the employees by thick, bullet-proof plexiglass. It feels more like a high-security detention center than a post office.
Me, Ahead of the Real Estate Curve?
Well, what do you know? Helloooooo Bushwick! You have arrived. According to the NY Times Magazine, I'm currently living in the cool, hip, 'it' neighborhood of the future. You could have fooled me, but the NY Times is the paper of record, so let's go with that.
A really nice, boutique restaurant just opened up 2 blocks away from me and I've never seen a business so out of place. Amid the warehouses, mechanic shops, and the slew of Dominican and Puerto Rican families arguing outside on their stoops, is this little, fine dining restaurant. I haven't patronized it yet, but I should soon- otherwise it might not be around too much longer.
Long live the 'Wick and the Jefferson St. L stop.
A really nice, boutique restaurant just opened up 2 blocks away from me and I've never seen a business so out of place. Amid the warehouses, mechanic shops, and the slew of Dominican and Puerto Rican families arguing outside on their stoops, is this little, fine dining restaurant. I haven't patronized it yet, but I should soon- otherwise it might not be around too much longer.
Long live the 'Wick and the Jefferson St. L stop.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Friday, March 17, 2006
Noisiest Sneakers
I asked my parents for a pair of New Balance 587s for Christmas and I was happy to get them. They're very comfortable, they fit well, and I think they look pretty old-school and retro. Only thing is, they are the NOISIEST pair of sneakers I've ever worn. They make this extra-loud squishy song with every step I take, as if I spent the day trolling around a wading pool.
When I'm walking about outside, nobody can hear it and they don't stand out, but when I wear them around my office on casual Fridays, it's like someone attached a microphone to both my feet. It doesn't help that my office can be deathly quiet. My floor is a bunch of design engineers tooling around on AutoCad all day long, black computer screens with intricate neon-colored lines and sqiggles (you could probably squeak in a quick game of Snood without anyone noticing). I walk down the 100-foot hall and the sound of my steps reverberates throughout the maze of cubicles. Hey everyone, the temp's walking down the hall to the bathroom again! There goes the temp- must have to make some copies.
One of my bosses mentioned how loud my shoes were, and I was like, "Yeah, it's ridiculous. I don't know what to do to make them stop." She said she thought it had something to do with air being trapped inside them somewhere. Who knows...
I've tried changing my gait or walking "softly" but no change in my steps can dampen these 587s. They're broadcasting loud and clear, amplified by this ultra-quiet office.
When I'm walking about outside, nobody can hear it and they don't stand out, but when I wear them around my office on casual Fridays, it's like someone attached a microphone to both my feet. It doesn't help that my office can be deathly quiet. My floor is a bunch of design engineers tooling around on AutoCad all day long, black computer screens with intricate neon-colored lines and sqiggles (you could probably squeak in a quick game of Snood without anyone noticing). I walk down the 100-foot hall and the sound of my steps reverberates throughout the maze of cubicles. Hey everyone, the temp's walking down the hall to the bathroom again! There goes the temp- must have to make some copies.
One of my bosses mentioned how loud my shoes were, and I was like, "Yeah, it's ridiculous. I don't know what to do to make them stop." She said she thought it had something to do with air being trapped inside them somewhere. Who knows...
I've tried changing my gait or walking "softly" but no change in my steps can dampen these 587s. They're broadcasting loud and clear, amplified by this ultra-quiet office.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Sensitive Joe Rogan's War of Myspace Words
I always thought those myspace pages belonging to celebrities were run by deceitful publicity teams, deceptive super-fans, or ironic haters, but it turns out there are a few profiles created and maintained by real celebrities. I'll admit, calling Joe Rogan a celebrity is a bit of a stretch, but this back-and-forth he had with a certain Rogan misanthropist is worth highlighting. I found this on defamer.com, quite an indespensable source.
Joe Rogan's Myspace page (you'll probably have to log in to see it)
————————- Original Message ————————- From: Kevin Date: Mar 2, 2006 9:01 AM
hahah, Joe Rogan… This is the funniest form I have ever seen you in. You’re only accomplishment, in my memory, is taking a highly successful show (The Man Show) and running it into the ground merely by your presence alone. I also don’t think playing second-fiddle to Brooke Shields is much of an accomplishment.
————————- Original Message ————————-
From: Joe Rogan
Date: Mar 2, 2006 9:09 AM
I was never on a show with Brooke Shields. I was however on 2 shows that made it to syndication, fear factor and newsradio, which means I never have to worry about money for the rest of my life. Think about that when you’re getting told what to do by your boss and struggling to pay your bills. I agree that the man show sucked, but unfortunately there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it at the time. I did however, make a fuck load of money from it, and had the time of my life. You’re an ugly, fat faced zero, and I’m a famous multi millionaire. Those are the facts there, dear sweet kevin :)
Joe Rogan's Myspace page (you'll probably have to log in to see it)
————————- Original Message ————————- From: Kevin Date: Mar 2, 2006 9:01 AM
hahah, Joe Rogan… This is the funniest form I have ever seen you in. You’re only accomplishment, in my memory, is taking a highly successful show (The Man Show) and running it into the ground merely by your presence alone. I also don’t think playing second-fiddle to Brooke Shields is much of an accomplishment.
————————- Original Message ————————-
From: Joe Rogan
Date: Mar 2, 2006 9:09 AM
I was never on a show with Brooke Shields. I was however on 2 shows that made it to syndication, fear factor and newsradio, which means I never have to worry about money for the rest of my life. Think about that when you’re getting told what to do by your boss and struggling to pay your bills. I agree that the man show sucked, but unfortunately there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it at the time. I did however, make a fuck load of money from it, and had the time of my life. You’re an ugly, fat faced zero, and I’m a famous multi millionaire. Those are the facts there, dear sweet kevin :)
Judd Apatow Vs. Mark Brazil, fight!
This back-and-forth electronic argument was published in Harpers all the way back in 2001, way before Judd Apatow hit the mainstream bigtime with 40-Year-Old Virgin. Here's a little glimpse into the friendly and supportive West Coast TV comedy writer's community...
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
It's official: American silver medal-winning ice dancer Tanith Belbin has just unseated 2005 winner Cat Osterman and 2004 champion Natalie Coughlin to be my amateur athlete crush of the year. Congratulations Tanith!
In The Mood For A Nice Rug Down
Back in November, it was time for the rug in the 51 Faxon Street den to come up. Why would a nice wine-red rug that had only been put down a few years ago need to be thrown out so soon? Rollie, the "free-pissing, I can go to the bathroom anywhere I like at anytime" beagle. That red rug could only withstand so many golden showers and steamy dog poos until it was time to have mercy on its carpet soul and put it out of its misery.
Nick, Emily, and I were all in Braintree for the weekend, and getting rid of the old rug and putting down a new rug was one of the projects my Mom had in store for us (another was to clean the cellar, but that's a whole other column in and of itself, folks). Taking a rug up and replacing it with a new one doesn't sound like a monumental task, but when you have a den crammed with so much furniture and...things, it's a lot harder than it looks.
Mom and Dad were home at the time we did this. No, they didn't actually help with anything, but they did a fabulous job of standing at the doorway and barking out (usually conflicting) directions. Menial household chore supervision- catch the fever!
The old area rug was underneath every large item in the room- sofa, giant TV and TV stand, recliner, chair, end table, coffee table, numerous stacks of unread books, etc. We took it up corner by corner, revealing a wooden floor unerneath that in certain parts looked like it was rotting from canine urine overexposure. It was nasty. Within moments, everyone was yelling at Rollie, telling him what a bad dog he was- I'm sure he was ridden with longterm guilt over all this. Was that regret expressed when he licked my hand, or did he just smell traces of roast beef?
By shifting everything around, the contaminated rug (was I really doing pushups on that thing yesterday?!) was eventually pulled up, rolled up, and promptly thrown out, its glory years clearly in the past.
At this point, we all questioned my Mom as to why we had to put another rug down. Some of us liked the look of a wooden floor, while others thought it was imprudent to lay down yet another rug for Rollie to ruin. And best of all, this rug was white! Yup, no problem keeping that one looking clean and new. I suppose the only plus side to the light shade was that there'd be no guessing to where Rollie had last taken a leak.
Mom had gotten a padding to go underneath the new rug this time. That was laid out without a fuss, but it was clearly too big. Once the rug was down, there's be some cutting required to trim it down to size.
Nick and I carried the new rug, still rolled up and taped, into the den from the dining room/ new carpet storage facility. While we started unrolling it, the real problems began. We didn't have a lot of room to work with, and with al the furniture the rug had to go under, we couldn't unroll it all at once. On cue, everyone started voicing their opinion on how best to get this carpet down with the least amount of fuss. Was it a shock that all 5 opinions varied dramatically? At this point, it shouldn't have been.
Eventually, a winning technique was discovered and successfully employed, and the fresh white area rug was soon in its proper place. Our faces were red and our breath was cut short while our faces glowed with perspiration, half from the physical work and the other half from stress.
But wait! The cushion mat underneath the carpet still had to be cut down to size! We had to hurry- the Patriots game was imminent and kickoff would soon be upon us.
We tried using an actual carpet cutter, but the blade seemed a bit too dull. I grabbed some plain old scissors and they seemed to get the job done, albeit very slowly with a strenuous hand tendon workout.
By the time the job was done. We were pooped.
Yet unlike our dog, Rollie, we refrained from actually pooping on the new rug.
Nick, Emily, and I were all in Braintree for the weekend, and getting rid of the old rug and putting down a new rug was one of the projects my Mom had in store for us (another was to clean the cellar, but that's a whole other column in and of itself, folks). Taking a rug up and replacing it with a new one doesn't sound like a monumental task, but when you have a den crammed with so much furniture and...things, it's a lot harder than it looks.
Mom and Dad were home at the time we did this. No, they didn't actually help with anything, but they did a fabulous job of standing at the doorway and barking out (usually conflicting) directions. Menial household chore supervision- catch the fever!
The old area rug was underneath every large item in the room- sofa, giant TV and TV stand, recliner, chair, end table, coffee table, numerous stacks of unread books, etc. We took it up corner by corner, revealing a wooden floor unerneath that in certain parts looked like it was rotting from canine urine overexposure. It was nasty. Within moments, everyone was yelling at Rollie, telling him what a bad dog he was- I'm sure he was ridden with longterm guilt over all this. Was that regret expressed when he licked my hand, or did he just smell traces of roast beef?
By shifting everything around, the contaminated rug (was I really doing pushups on that thing yesterday?!) was eventually pulled up, rolled up, and promptly thrown out, its glory years clearly in the past.
At this point, we all questioned my Mom as to why we had to put another rug down. Some of us liked the look of a wooden floor, while others thought it was imprudent to lay down yet another rug for Rollie to ruin. And best of all, this rug was white! Yup, no problem keeping that one looking clean and new. I suppose the only plus side to the light shade was that there'd be no guessing to where Rollie had last taken a leak.
Mom had gotten a padding to go underneath the new rug this time. That was laid out without a fuss, but it was clearly too big. Once the rug was down, there's be some cutting required to trim it down to size.
Nick and I carried the new rug, still rolled up and taped, into the den from the dining room/ new carpet storage facility. While we started unrolling it, the real problems began. We didn't have a lot of room to work with, and with al the furniture the rug had to go under, we couldn't unroll it all at once. On cue, everyone started voicing their opinion on how best to get this carpet down with the least amount of fuss. Was it a shock that all 5 opinions varied dramatically? At this point, it shouldn't have been.
Eventually, a winning technique was discovered and successfully employed, and the fresh white area rug was soon in its proper place. Our faces were red and our breath was cut short while our faces glowed with perspiration, half from the physical work and the other half from stress.
But wait! The cushion mat underneath the carpet still had to be cut down to size! We had to hurry- the Patriots game was imminent and kickoff would soon be upon us.
We tried using an actual carpet cutter, but the blade seemed a bit too dull. I grabbed some plain old scissors and they seemed to get the job done, albeit very slowly with a strenuous hand tendon workout.
By the time the job was done. We were pooped.
Yet unlike our dog, Rollie, we refrained from actually pooping on the new rug.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Delayed DVD Releases
Is HBO ever going to release Dream On on DVD? I've probably only seen 3 or 4 episodes of the old HBO show, but I thought it was hilarious, especially with all those old film clips expertly interspersed throughout each episode. I caught a few late-night reruns a few years ago, and I've been waiting for a DVD release ever since. Maybe they think it will be too expensive to release on DVD and that not enough people will buy it to justify the work.
I think that's what might have happened with The Larry Sanders Show. They put the first season on DVD back in 2001. You could tell they didn't care too much about it because the transfer was less than stellar, or perhaps they just didn't bother storing the negatives properly. Studios will shell out big bucks to restore old classics like Gond With The Wind or Vertigo, but Season One of Larry Sanders? Not quite in the budget yet.
So that first season came out, and then that was it. Five years later, and the rest of the series still hasn't made it onto disc. Maybe I could find a weekly late night Sunday rerun of it on the UPN, but I'm not that hard up. Plus, I want to watch them in sequential order.
You walk into any Walmart today and take a look at the dregs they have in the DVD bargain bins. Garbage! Junk! Movies you'd have to pay ME to watch (and even then I wouldn't pay attention). Some of the most pitiful, forgetful movies ever made are on DVD, but you're telling me it's too much trouble to put Larry Sanders and Dream On on a digital media format?!
If that's not bad enough, there are still some classic, Oscar-calibre movies not out on DVD. If you want to watch Reds, the only way you can see it today, in the year 2006, is on a 25-year-old VHS tape from the Blockbuster drama aisle. That's a freakin' travesty, folks. If some studio can find the time to release The Beastmaster on dvd, don't you think it's about time Reds got the same treatment?! Someone's dropping the ball somewhere, but they didn't drop it on my DVD of Reds because it doesn't freakin' exist yet!
I think that's what might have happened with The Larry Sanders Show. They put the first season on DVD back in 2001. You could tell they didn't care too much about it because the transfer was less than stellar, or perhaps they just didn't bother storing the negatives properly. Studios will shell out big bucks to restore old classics like Gond With The Wind or Vertigo, but Season One of Larry Sanders? Not quite in the budget yet.
So that first season came out, and then that was it. Five years later, and the rest of the series still hasn't made it onto disc. Maybe I could find a weekly late night Sunday rerun of it on the UPN, but I'm not that hard up. Plus, I want to watch them in sequential order.
You walk into any Walmart today and take a look at the dregs they have in the DVD bargain bins. Garbage! Junk! Movies you'd have to pay ME to watch (and even then I wouldn't pay attention). Some of the most pitiful, forgetful movies ever made are on DVD, but you're telling me it's too much trouble to put Larry Sanders and Dream On on a digital media format?!
If that's not bad enough, there are still some classic, Oscar-calibre movies not out on DVD. If you want to watch Reds, the only way you can see it today, in the year 2006, is on a 25-year-old VHS tape from the Blockbuster drama aisle. That's a freakin' travesty, folks. If some studio can find the time to release The Beastmaster on dvd, don't you think it's about time Reds got the same treatment?! Someone's dropping the ball somewhere, but they didn't drop it on my DVD of Reds because it doesn't freakin' exist yet!
Thursday, February 16, 2006
BJ Averell on The Amazing Race
Just found out tonight that a friend I knew from college, BJ Averell, is going to be on the new edition of The Amazing Race premiering at the end of this month. Check out his webpage over at CBS.com. He's one of the funniest, craziest guys I encountered during my 4 years at Harvard, and I can't wait to see him on the show.
BJ was in the big improv group on campus, was in all the Hasty Pudding Shows, wrote a daily comic strip depicting the college president, Neil Rudenstine, and Cornell West, managed to get arrested when trying to get home one Thanksgiving by sneaking onto an airplane at Logan Airport, and he co-hosted the giganticly successful BJ Show with none other than BJ Novak, who's since gone onto write for and co-star in The Office with Steve Carrell.
When he got arrested for being a stow away on that plane, he took a great photo for The Crimson to run with their story the next day- looking all tough and badass with his hair slicked and a sporting giant pair of aviator sunglasses. After that he sort of became a cult figure around campus.
I haven't seen BJ since I graduated, so it's been a few years, and he definitely looks a little different with that long hair and shaggy beard. Even if he and his partner fail miserably, I know he's going to be hysterical and outrageous regardless of how he finishes.
BJ was in the big improv group on campus, was in all the Hasty Pudding Shows, wrote a daily comic strip depicting the college president, Neil Rudenstine, and Cornell West, managed to get arrested when trying to get home one Thanksgiving by sneaking onto an airplane at Logan Airport, and he co-hosted the giganticly successful BJ Show with none other than BJ Novak, who's since gone onto write for and co-star in The Office with Steve Carrell.
When he got arrested for being a stow away on that plane, he took a great photo for The Crimson to run with their story the next day- looking all tough and badass with his hair slicked and a sporting giant pair of aviator sunglasses. After that he sort of became a cult figure around campus.
I haven't seen BJ since I graduated, so it's been a few years, and he definitely looks a little different with that long hair and shaggy beard. Even if he and his partner fail miserably, I know he's going to be hysterical and outrageous regardless of how he finishes.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
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