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What a great deal you think as you read the ad: $700 per month for a room in a high rise doorman apartment complex. And then you come across this caveat: I'm looking for a female roommate who will occasionally not wear clothes when I ask in exchange for free rent. No sex whatsoever required. CREEEEPY.
The thing with New York City is that housing is just that expensive enough and people just that desperate enough that you know this person received some legit responses from women.
When it comes to matters of home furnishings and such I'm pretty clueless. Although I am trying to broaden my horizon in those areas by uh, reading Dwell, but for the moment I'm asking the hive (you readers) for advice on the following need. Where can I buy cheap but nice quality bedding, specifically fitted sheets for a full size bed within NYC? My current ones are hanging on by a thread.
I know I can find cheap ones online, but I don't have the patience to wait for them to arrive and for such an intimate object, I want to see it in person before purchasing it.
Secondly, what should I look for when buying bedding? What is considered a good "thread" count?
Edumacate me, hive mind!
Funkmaster Flex on July 4th played a commercial free five hour set on Hot97 of pure classic hip hop goodness from the 1990s (minus "Hammer and Young MC").
Some dude broke up the set into four mp3s which you can download here.
It's a must have for any hip hop fan or connoisseur. I've been listening to it all night (I doubt I'll be able to listen to the entire set considering it's five hours long in case you forgot) and it's simply hot, although a small minor complaint is that sometimes there's a little too much Funkmaster Flexing his big mouth. Nonetheless the songs fit really perfectly with the hot summer nights and it makes me want to get in a car with a couple good friends, nod our heads along to the beats, and just drive somewhere.
Boring Entry Warning. I've been having some pronounced knee problems [insert old man joke here] the past couple weeks to the point that I had to stop running because my knee would kind of pop out after jogging for just two blocks.
I'd never qualify myself as a "runner." In fact in the past I've always hated running and certainly didn't have any inherent abilities in that area. However, recently I've been enjoying it and so getting hurt was really annoying just as I was starting to be able to run a decent distance.
I was able to resume running again today and I'm excited that I can now run a full lap around Prospect Park. Hey, that's quite an achievement for this non-runner! My goal by the end of the summer is now to be able to do two full laps which will be exactly 6.7 miles.
Update: I self-diagnosed myself (thanks Internets!) and my affliction is apparently because I'm suffering from patellofemoral pain syndrome, otherwise known as simply "Runner's Knee."
You may feel pain toward the back of the knee, a sense of cracking or that the knee's giving out.
Yup, that's my knee! Explained it right to the dot.
Swung by the Soho Apple store just in time to catch the UPS guys unloading the new iPhones. The line was shorter than I was expecting but I imagine it'll get hectic towards the actual time they will be sold.
iLine.
iNeed Sunblock.
Look at all them iPhones courtesy of UPS! I didn't notice any security presence.
iClose up of the boxes.
So many tracking numbers...what's up with that?
Hey UPS guys: Less standing and more moving! Get those phones in there!
NiPD.
The most patient kid in the planet.
These hands don't want no stinkin' photo taken. It wants an iPhone!
iPhone bridging the racial divide...or is it a love connection thanks to the iPhone?
"Hey T-Mobile, Please cancel my contract. Yea. 200 dollars to cancel? That's fine. I must cancel. Thanks."
And at the front of the line...these people will sell their iPhone on ebay to raise money for a good cause. Or so they say.
(Thanks for coming by Boing Boing readers!)
Thursday, May 31
Nifty street "art."
Evidence of the splasher?
Hmmm.
Woa...a photo of a photo. Did your brain just explode?
Lea loves them street art.
And then we went to Don Hill's.
Gin and Tonic and Gin and Rummy.
One of these glasses costs 14 dollars and the other 200.
You never know when you need tanning 'accelerator.'
And then we went to Anchor Bar (ssshh don't tell people about it).
This photo is evidence of Lea's poor sport at getting her arse kicked by yours truly at gin.
Her ass was on fire, eg. burned from staying a bit too long in the tanning booth.
At the bar, some group was having a random pizza party. Of course Lea and I REALLY wanted some pizza at this point.
Success! (I apologize about the gross chewed up food in my mouth.)
You probably didn't know this but Tasti D Lite is the spot to hang out.
Lea, that isn't real! It's plastic!
It's a good night when you have a party wristband by 8 pm. I headed over to the third bar for the night: Babel. Because Cyrus was leaving to embark on the next leg of his life journey (two month layover in Boston, final destination Detroit), this was the final session of Thursday night Babel.
Peter and Cristina!
Florian, Peter and Henry enjoying the last free hookah...
Beth!
Jeff!
Middle finger!
Chloe!
Henry pulling a rare Blue Steel.
Cyrus himself!
Monica (and friend)!
VIV!!!!!!!!
Jeff and his ladies.
Mid party munchies to be fulfilled by the take out Chinese joint.
Mmmm.
And that is the last of the Thursday Night Babel Promotion by DJ Cyrus Cesa.
For all the photos from these parties, they are all collected here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/83466411@N00/sets/72157594373017602/
On my way to the Apple Store to get new headphones gratis Apple (the third pair I've gone through in the past six months), I spotted Sophia Coppola pushing her child on the corner of Mercer and Spring. We will now rejoin our regularly scheduled programming.
New York Academy of Art
Summer Exhibition 2007
Opening Reception: June 6, Wednesday 6 pm - 8 pm.
June 7 - July 18
1 pm - 7 pm, Daily.
Lawrence and Josephine C. Wilkinson Hall
111 Franklin Street, New York, NY 10013 (between Church St and West Broadway)
Broadway-Houston BDFV subway stop, 9 pm.
I liked the composition here and the color contrast between the classic punk rock-tank girl look juxtaposed with the summer dress worn by her friend. I also liked how the tattoo on her back gave her over-all vibe an intriguing twist.
Google just unveiled their latest addition to the Google Maps family. Its new "Street View" feature is DOPE. Of course, the first thing I did was enter my apartment address and got a nerdy thrill out of seeing it pop up.
When I first moved to the New York City and came upon my first street fair, I was enthralled. Wow. This is amazing. Look at all this food. All this culture. All these people. Amazing! I love New York City! I love everyone! And then I quickly learned that there's one every weekend in the summer all over the city. I quickly went from being a fan to a hater. Goddammit people, move! Ugh, look at all this crappy over priced street food that smells better than it tastes. Look at all this crap for sale. Do I really trust buying a dozen underwear from this guy for 3 bucks?
Then, the other weekend, I experienced my first Brooklyn fair. Well, this was wee bit bigger than the typical street fairs I experienced. It was some big thing for Park Slope, where I live. There was live music and the whole thing stretched for 30 blocks it seemed. All the restaurants on this stretch of 5th Avenue were selling food out front. My love of street fairs was reborn.
Anyway, I took some photos.
A cool puppy with blue eyes.
Pink is the new ice cream-candy truck.
Don't stop git it, git it.
"Next."
Mmm, peppers.
Three of the greatest crime fighters in comic books: Batman, Spidey, and Scooby.
Front row seat.
Living the cover band dream.
Oooh, artsy.
I'm a couple weeks behind on these segments. But better late than never. Cue some jackass saying, "That's what she said!"
Obligatory jump photo on my way to Cy's rapidly ending Thursday night party. Note the matching hoodie with baby blue socks. Totally unintentional.
"And this is how Mario jumped."
Yes, Kenny was there which always means one thing--nutty dancing.
These two demonstrate how to make the switch from corporate office wear to party wear: unbutton the collar shirt. And roll up the sleeves.
Monica!
Hookah technicians at work. "Must. Fix. Machine. Must. Get. Smoke."
Henry and Heidi accompany the DJ.
Hookah, vodka cranberry, sound making sticks (not sure what they are called...) = Fun.
Henry also busted out this musical monstrosity from his ever present bookbag o' music.
Haha.
I always knew Monica was a raver at heart. Haha.
Monica's friend getting down to the music.
Who can resist these things??
I love Henry's look in this photo. He's like "Of course I carry these things with me everywhere. Don't you?"
Heidi is going fierce with this thing.
This is one of the greatest, most hilarious things I've seen--it was like something straight out of those teen-movies from the late 90s and early 00s that always featured some synchronized dance sequence. That's what happened here. Kenny and Henry began the electric slide...and Cy and some of his other friends joined in...
That night, some random guy completely unconnected to us was having a rather large birthday party there. They saw this dance going on and one by one joined in as well (you can see them in the back in this photo).
The birthday boy in the blue suit and his friends are LOVIN the electricity of the slide.
It's tough to tell from the photos, but nearly the entire bar was in on it at this point.
Heidi is giving it her ALL. Look at that shoulder dip in!
Ooooh, that's some look she's giving Cy. haha.
And then Henry got a little side tracked.
Don't stop git it, git it.
Kenny is the master of the electric slide. Bow to the master.
AK-Bootie 7 getting tag teamed on the dance floor.
I don't remember who said it or wrote it or where I read it, but I came across something once which stated something to the effect that being recognized by five percent of the population is more public recognition or "fame" than most of us will ever achieve. Of course, the original quote was much more succinct. Thus, just because some people don't appear in your weekly issue of Star, People, or Us Magazine (when I was younger, I used to think it was "U.S. Magazine"), that doesn't mean to me it isn't a celebrity sighting. At Central Park today sitting across from us was a gaggle of people playing bocce. It was like a gathering of Young Comics R Us. In their midst, I spotted Demetri Martin, this other guy that I see all the time on Best Week Ever, and current SNL cast member Fred Armisen.
You can see Demetri in the white t-shirt and the guy that I see all the time on Best Week Ever standing next to him.
Demetri Martin is a pretty hilarious guy:
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfYspe3yHvM]
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=viw5U7yPxo0]
Just a few pictures from last week's Babel session.
Annie brought some mangos for the family. How thoughtful.
Cyrus roared in laughter with a bone chilling edge, his head tilting back, mouth stretched as evil in its organic essence flowed out from within. People stopped mid-movement frozen with terror. "Finally!" he roared. "Millennia of planning, eons of plotting, and pulling strings," he said, "At last! Success is mine." Somewhere from the crowd, a single shriek of dismay and complete surrender escaped, like that of a balloon suddenly pierced, at Cyrus' declaration. No one turned to see who had cried out because each individual believed that they were the culprit. The surrender was total. At this, Cyrus said with a smirk, "I AM NOW YOUR DJ."
Cy playing the tunes.
Chris is a fan.
Chris ruining a perfectly nice photo with bunny ears. Yup, bunny ears.
No more of the Goose...
But that doesn't stop the dance! The DANCEEEE!
The headline might not be the most descriptive or articulate, but you'll understand when you see this short YouTube clip. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ceNf-11-ddI]
Cyrus sent out a party rallying call on Tuesday (Who goes out on Tuesday anyway?) for an open bar thing at Gallery Bar for URB Magazine. And did you know that the DJ is DJ KENNY PARKER??? KRS-One's younger bro? (Thanks Annie, er, Wikipedia.)
Annie reading up on the vodka sponsor while Chris does what he does best: texting away on his phone from the future.
Jeff!! Haha, clearly arriving right after getting off work. A suit in a sea of flashy sneakers and BAPE hoodies. LOVE this kid.
Am I just really that tan or is Jeff really that pale? I can't tell. Either way we're both keeping it real.
Annie! She was dropping all this knowledge earlier in the night about the DJ and the whole time I was thinking "Damn, I know a little bit about the hip hop, but she's making me feel mad ignorant." Turns out, she just wikipedia'd the shit. Can't hate on the researching tho.
Me with Annie and Erika!
Apparently something in the ceiling was very captivating to us.
The Lord of Babel enjoying his cold vodka cran.
Hahaha.
Texting away.
Chris and Jeff discussing maybe the next karaoke night. Or the hot tattooed girl. Both fun topics.
Erika and Cy!
Heh. Checking out the runway it seems.
Ah, the ever necessary appropriate hoodie for the hipster party.
A not so successful jump...
Success!
I discovered today the holy grail of all cheap lunches. The cheap lunch is a much sought after location in New York, where one's bank account, after subtracting rent and related expenses, can quickly deplete due to the 7 dollars and change spent daily for lunch (even if it does come with a "free" soda). Most weeks, it can sometimes seem really impossible to find a satisfying lunch in New York City for under 6 dollars. Today, thanks to an eavesdropping coworker, I had a gigantic lunch consisting of a sizable quantity of steamed rice along with three tasty sides and soup for a grand total, including tax, of $2.75. Yes, you read that correctly. $2.75.
One can choose from a variety of sides: I went with a chicken and vegetable dish, some bok choi, and hearty dumplings. Irregardless of the price, it was quite delicious, tasting more like home cooked Chinese food--meaning it was light on the grease.
That's about as close to a free lunch as once can get around these parts. Consider that the large ice coffee at the budget deli near work is $2.50.
Where is it? Just meander on down to Mott and Broome St. Just don't tell too many people.
Pictures speak louder than words, some say. I hate "some" but some speaks the truf "sometimes." So here's my weekend in a nutshell:
Walking back from Whole Foods today during lunch (Mango cilantro salad and a mishmash of Indian--What can I say? It was pay day.) I walked past the Don of Hollywood Hipsters aka Mr. Sensitivity aka The Guy Who Daydreams A Lot On Scrubs aka Zach Braff. Predictably he was walking with a gorgeous blond. Maybe they too were headed towards the new grocery mecca of the Lower East Side denizens.
And then I enjoyed my lunch in a nearby park. Afterwards I headed back to the office to make phone calls: the very sort of existence that I imagine Zach might play in a movie. I would title the movie Playground State.
I wrote a review awhile ago of the new N trains where I expressed my generally pleasing experience on these shiny new trains. I'm glad I savored that experience, because I haven't had many opportunities to ride it since. After a long day at the office followed by an exhausting post-work session at the gym, the D train is the primary chariot on tracks that delivers me home.
Leaving the gym and walking outside where the brisk Soho night air immediately cools me, I cross the street against the oncoming traffic towards the subway station, while holding my palm out at the taxis and cars that boldly inch closer to my biological body than I preferred. That action is silly, because it's an inherently flawed act of self preservation. A gym might provide the milieu and means by which one creates a stronger body, but that body is no match against the physics of the force a metal moving object exerts against a fleshy object that stands in its way. (Insert Krytonite footnote.) And yet, my palm acts as an urban amulet that compels even the most sadist cab driver to slow to a halt. Or so I hope. A friend of mine, born and raised in New York City, is an expert in this and has perfected it to practically an art form, or what I call, "Extreme Walking."
Extreme Walking is walking from point A to point B by the shortest route possible while ignoring street signs, moving vehicles, and construction.
Try it.
Just make sure you have health insurance first.
