Scary Humans: Part 2

Several weeks ago I was working in Times Square and our group was allowed to use the Levi's store's employee bathroom for the day. Arriving at the bathroom I found a bit of a line. There was a girl in front of me, and a guy who had gone in what felt like five years ago and was still taking his sweet time. The Levi's employee girl and I stood silently for a long while, and then out of nowhere, she drops this bomb, "Do you think I'm skinny?" I did a double take to make sure she was talking to me, because, who asks a perfect stranger that sort of question, and what in the world am I supposed to say to that? Appearing to weigh a good 10 or 15 pounds less than me from the best I could tell, I said, "yeah." (meanwhile my mind is racing trying to figure what kind of a person would ever ask another stranger that--is this some sort of trick question?) The girl persists again, "No, really, do you think I'm skinny?" (Apparently the yeah was insufficient--why is the guy still in the bathroom!) Trying to come up with something complimentary for this person I don't know, I expounded, "Yeah, you look small. What are you, like a 2/4?" Big mistake. All at once, the guy leaves the bathroom, the girl practically bursts into tears and yells "No, I'm a zero! You just called me fat!" and runs in the bathroom and locks the door. Wow. Never claim to know a person's clothing size, especially a stranger who asks you if you think they're skinny while waiting on the employee bathroom.

Chikalicious?

Sam's birthday was last week, and we ventured to this place around the corner from where we ate dinner, "Chikalicious" for dessert. It had come highly recommended and was described to me as "just about perfect." We arrive and are quickly seated at a corner table. The website describes Chikalicious as having a "3-course Prix Fixe menu, described as American desserts, French Presentation and Japanese tasting portions, and includes an amuse, dessert of your choice, and assorted petits-fours."
For those of you who don't watch Top Chef or something similar, an amuse is like a mini-mini course, meant to be eaten in one bite. The menu items are pretty frou-frou-ey, and I feel like I am watching Sam feeling more emasculated with each passing moment. Nonetheless, we decide on the lime soup with lime sorbet and brown sugar biscuit (props to Sam for actually speaking those words aloud) and the coconut panna cotta with kiwi and passion fruit relish. Our amuse arrived first, some kind of rhubarb jell-o type situation with a dollop of "vanilla milk sorbet." It came in a dish you would normally put a couple of squirts of soy sauce in for sushi. The combination of jelly-like substance with cold-creamy sorbet was sort of weird and I didn't particularly like it. And it was so small! But this was the amuse, so ok, it's supposed to be laughably, ridiculously tiny.

Soon after we arrived, a couple who were probably related to Methuselah came in. The only empty table hadn't been cleaned off yet, and the hostess/owner told them she'd seat them as soon as she cleaned the table up. The elderly lady, we'll call her Marge, took one look at the table, rolled her eyes, and said, "Well, I should hope so." Meanwhile the husband looks like he is fighting for every breath. They sit down and order their dessert, along with two cappuccinos. The poor hostess/owner brings their drinks not a minute later, and Marge looks at her like she's insane. I hear hostess/owner say, "we always bring the drinks out first, but I'd be glad to take them back if you want them after your dessert." To which Marge waves her wrinkled purple hands and replies, "Yes, take them away, bring them at the end." Who does that?

Back at our dessert table, our "main course" arrives. The presentation was lovely, but again, this is the smallest plate of panna cotta I have ever laid eyes on. Sam and I enjoy hearing the chef bring out each course (and I use the word "course" very loosely here) and describe it to us with painstaking detail. The lime soup with lime sorbet is actually so delicious, I just wish they'd quadrupled the order. The panna cotta (all three bites of it) is very tasty as well. I can't figure out how they've made brown sugar biscuits the size of croutons. This is like dessert for teeny mice people. Or maybe they actually have mice in the back making all of this stuff, with little tweezers, kind of like Ratatouille. I'm thinking about where they might be hiding the mice chefs, when Marge pipes up again.

"What is taking so long?" she demands of the increasingly exasperated hostess/owner. It takes all of the husband's remaining might to nod his head in agreement. "How old is this dessert?" The hostess explains that everything is made fresh and that she just saw their tarts in the oven and is sure they'll be ready momentarily. Marge huffs and puffs a couple more times about what is taking so long, and her hubby taps his cane on the ground in agreement. Sam and I wonder what they are in such a extreme hurry for. A few theories we role played while waiting on petits-fours:
"I've got to get him home so I can feed him his back pill at 9:30"
"We have to go home and plug in, we're robots and our batteries are almost dead"
"We turn into pumpkins if we don't get home in time, very very old pumpkins"

Our petits-fours arrive. I know you will be shocked to learn that they were extremely small. They consisted of two sugar cube-sized marshmallows covered in seven pieces of coconut each, two chocolate truffles the size of gumdrops, and two of the tiniest pieces of pound cake ever created by humans (or rodents). A scrumptious three bites later, we were out the door, leaving Marge and co. to wait on their second attempt at cappuccino.

Scary Humans: part 1

I've decided to devote some time on the old blogaroosky to the weird New Yorkers I have interactions with on a daily basis. There is something about living in the city that lends itself to strange conversations with people around you.

Today, I was running 10 blocks uptown to get to a casting I was helping out with (where I would go on to be bored to tears signing in models for a Comcast advertisement casting. 200 girls in their swimsuits, jumping at the chance to play a "beach mom"--some of them didn't even bother bringing bathing suits. scary.) and a man (who was probably homeless)--was trying to sell me fruit roll-ups at $2 a pop (which is horribly expensive for an individual fruit-roll up). I usually tell people who try to hock something on me that I don't have any cash, or that I'm flat out not interested, but every now and then somebody catches me without an excuse. Today I happened to have some cash, and the guy had fruit roll ups, which I didn't even know they still made! He fed me some line about how I was helping basketball playing children in india or the like, and I said, "alright, you got change?" I pull out a twenty dollar bill, and the guy proceeds to try to talk me into paying $20 for 10 fruit roll-ups. "It's for a good cause!" he kept saying. "I'll take 5. Final offer." I said. (even as I agreed to it I was thinking, I can't believe I am paying this much for fruit roll-ups, and I also, what am I going to do with five fruit roll-ups??) He offers me the box of roll-ups, then proceeds to grab a wad of cash from out of his SWEATPANTS and betwixt his nether regions. He counts out ten one dollar bills and hands them to me. "You have a great day, now." he calls, as I shutter and throw the damp money in my purse.

Williamsburg "Advertisements"

Williamsburg is full of aspiring musicians, artists, and the like, and more than other parts of Brooklyn or Manhattan (or maybe it just seems more concentrated because I live here), you find all kinds of homemade "advertisements" posted on the street--political statements, propaganda, inside jokes or things that seem like inside jokes, and surprisingly beautiful little artistic statements. I remember the first time I noticed one--and I stared at it for five minutes trying to figure out what "product" it was advertising, what was the catch. It was so lovely and professional looking I was sure it was some sort of viral campaign for a product. Really someone just wanted to communicate a sort of "advertisement" (I call them that since there is no official term for them I've heard to date) about an IDEA. With no ulterior motive or intention to make money or profit from it. Just to pass along the knowledge, man. Hmmm. Anywho, I've posted a bunch that I've taken pictures of--most of these are up around the Bedford Avenue area, the sort-of "downtown" area of Williamsburg. Sometimes they are put up on random spots on buildings, and also frequently outside construction sites. I suppose the large wooden panels they put up at construction sites here to keep out the riff-raff make for excellent canvasses for large creative statements. The "lost my shit" ad was on the platform on the subway--but if you look closely, the place where you tear off someone's number along the bottom, contains a web address, lostmyshit.com, which if you visit you'll find doesn't exist! so someone went to the trouble of making this flyer, making photo copies of it, and putting it up around the neighborhood, I guess just as a joke? I don't know, it's kind of bizarre. Some of the quality is lost in the pictures, but I hope the spirit comes across adequately. I'm interested to get your thoughts on them.

New York Mystery #42: Why do New Yorkers always wear black?

One of my favorite things to do in New York (although, sadly, less and less as I become less of an expatriate and more of a "local" the longer I live here) is take pictures of funny things I see around the city, especially, as I'm sure you have noticed, things on the subway. I always used to wonder when I came to visit friends here why so many people wore black all the time. This picture illustrates the abundance of black as the favorite color choice among city dwellers. Having lived here for a little while, I've noticed you're always sitting/leaning on/holding onto/brushing up against things that are potentially dirty, whether it's on the subway, in cabs, or on the sidewalk. You have a lot less control over coming into contact with grime and grit, and New Yorkers have to be out in the elements more than most--this is one of the reasons why New Yorkers have that steely can-do spirit, too. And also a reason why they wear a lot of black. It shows dirt much less than it's white and light colored counterparts, and New Yorkers don't have time to go home and change in between work and after-work soirees. (This coming from the girl who carries a bright green purse and wears a bright orange coat almost every day.) Oh well. Guess I'm not quite a local yet.

Spotted in Brooklyn...

One "Student Driver" school bus. I remember when I first learned to drive on a school bus...oh wait. That never happened. I can only assume this is a school bus specific learning experience, and this person already knows how to drive regular vehicles. Brooklyn is already sort of like driving through Beirut, and 16 year olds weilding school buses aren't going to help the situation.



Three Jewish girls wearing skirts, even though it's 15 degrees out. I wonder if they're allowed to wear long johns under the skirts at least.



One perfect dessert, purchased at Diner, a remodeled old diner in a silver trailer.
It was some sort of panna cotta with grapefruit and tangerines on top, with homemade pecan shortbread cookies.

The BIGGEST News of '09?

So here we are kids. It's a new year, we've got a new President, the economy is in shambles, people are losing their jobs left and right, foreclosures are sky-rocketing, a ridiculous percentage of Americans don't have or can't afford healthcare, and yet some of the biggest news of the year has only JUST surfaced this week. No I'm not referring to LOST and Battlestar Galactica starting their new seasons (though we all know that's probably the MOST important thing to happen this year yet).

Recently, it's come to the attention of the masses that some of celebrities out there are just going bananas. It's a shocker. But what's more shocking to me is how much of this stuff is actually "news". First off, multi-gold medal winning Michael Phelps has been "caught" smoking a bong by some super-sleuth with a cell phone camera. Now if that wasn't bad enough, the bong was loaded with economy crashing, terrorist producing, tv show ending wonder weed and everything we know and love is going to be destroyed when Phelps takes to the seas and covers all the lands in this skunky pestilence from his genetically engineered super lungs. Am I the only one who really doesn't care if Michael Phelps took a hit or two?

The guy is 23 years old. Yes he got a DUI when he was 19. I suppose I'm a better person because at least I waited until two weeks before I turned 21 to get mine. Aqua-boy has made a couple of questionable decisions obviously. Do we really need to devote any more time to this matter? Sadly, it appears we do. Now despite the fact that the gilled giant has apologized for his acting in a "youthful and inappropriate way, not in a manner that people have come to expect from [him]" and the fact that he never tested for ANY drug use while he was competing, it's not enough for some of the butt-hurt masses of Phelps fans. The same people who were fist-pumping on their couches in front of their flat-screens when Phelps was bringing home the Olympic cheddah, are the same jerk-weeds who are writing to newspapers and mounting up with the morality police about the fact that this kid had the audacity to go out and inhale from an instrument of marijuana dispensation.

He's young, he's been competing for AMERICA to take people's minds off how crap-tastical things have been for however long, and he let loose. I'm just gonna throw this out there and brace yourselves, folks; IT'S PROBABLY NOT THE FIRST TIME HE'S GONE ALL CYPRESS HILL ON THE DEVIL GRASS! But Sam! He's a celebrity! What about his moral responsibilities to the public and the kids who look up to him? Well, what about our responsibility to tell those kids that sometimes people make mistakes and we shouldn't judge them?

In other "news" Batman can now be heard dropping F-bombs with unbridled british abandon on some crew during the filming of McG's (don't even get me started) Terminator: Salvation. If you haven't heard this MP3 yet, I suggest immediately going out and changing your ringtone to Christian Bale's rant. The facts of this are; Bale blasts Cinematographer Shane Hurlbut during a take when the guy apparently walked through his sight line, Bale goes on for almost 4 minutes and uses such terms as "kick your effin' a$$" and "eff's sake man, you're amateur." It's really quite fantastic. Up there with the David O. Russel / Lily Tomlin FREAK OUT on the set of "I Heart Huckabees." Thanks You-tube! So was the Caped Crusader out of line? I don't know, ya'll. I haven't been on the set of a multi-million dollar blockbuster with multi-million dollar actors and directors who have names that sound like McDonald's sandwiches yet. I think it'd be annoying to have someone fiddling with equipment in front of me while I was trying to do a scene that was/is apparently integral to the development of John Connor, the character that Bale plays in the movie. And yes, there was some trouble last year with Bale apparently getting into a scuffle with his mom when she insulted his wife or some such nonsense but it seems to have gotten brushed under the Tumbler if you will.

There's a distinct possibility though that this Hurlbut guy shouldn't have been doing what he'd been doing. That he should have stayed off the set and out of the scene while they were shooting. We're always real quick to pounce on celebrities because they're so accessible to tear down. For the record I have no problem with Jessica Simpson's weight. Tom Cruise may be one intense Scientologist, but I loved "Jerry MaGuire" and "The Last Samurai" so he's cool in my book.

Maybe Christian Bale is a maniac. Maybe he's just really serious about his work. Maybe Michael Phelps is a devil-worshipping, drunk-driving, pothead. Or maybe, just maybe he's human afterall.

The real thing that bothers me are the d-bags that release this stuff onto the internet machine. The guy at the party where Phelps was who thought he could make a quick buck by tearing dolphin-man down, or the Soundman on Terminator: Salvation who let that clip "get out." Yes I might be talking about you, Nigel Albermaniche. It's at times like this when I remember the wise words of a famous New York city cop who said, "Now, you listen to me...if you're not a part of the solution, you're a part of the problem. Quit being a part of the problem...!

We got real problems to worry about these days, guys and dolls. I for one am gonna make an honest effort to be a bigger part of the solution in '09. And for the record, the jury's still out about that whole Phelps being human thing...

Much Overdue Christmas Break Blog

It's funny how quickly the mind can readjust to different spaces. Being back in the South over the holidays reminded us how used to the city ways we already are. Our first night back, in Sam's parents' guest bedroom, the silence was literally deafening. None of us could sleep it was so quiet, including the dog! I know, pitiful. All night Ellie would jump up and start barking everytime she heard the paperboy, the dog next door, or any other now strange noise. In the city all the noises kind of blend together into this cacophony (yeah I said it) of white noise that we've become accustomed to. I think I literally slept 3 hours that first night. The next morning, I marched promptly to the basement and found an oscillating fan to install in our room for the weekend. We all slept like babies for the rest of the trip.
Here's Sam wearing his new snowboarding helmet on "Lexington Christmas Morning."**
**was actually December 26th, but we just pretended like it was the day before. Doesn't this make you think of Mike Myers back when he used to eat lots of chocolate and drag that jungle gym down the street?



Here we are covered in Christmas loot.


Another crazy thing about being out of the city was that there seemed to be so much extra space everywhere. It almost seemed criminal. Look at that spare 1/2 acre of land! we would gasp as we drove by. The only open land here are the parks, which are filled with people and dog poop. This unused land seemed to be going to waste when it would house or feed several dozen people where we live now. The first time I saw a Wal-Mart parking lot again I almost fell out.* (*Southern term. When in Rome...) The parking lot, again, seemed like a ridiculous waste of space. I know this is normal to 95% of the people reading this, but I'm telling you it looked very strange from where I was sitting.

Here's a pic from Nashville Christmas* (*Actually on Dec. 31st) of Sam in scary ski mask.


Me concentrating really hard on celebrating New Year's Eve at the Barrett's.



The only thing Sam wanted to do while in Nashville was eat at our favorite sushi place, Sam's Sushi. Sadly, we have not been able to find a suitable equivalent in New York yet, and it's possible we never will.* (*It has to be close to impossible to make a profit when 4 people eat for $20. The same amount of food in NY sushi joints and most places runs over $100).
Here is a picture of Sam just before he enjoyed his spoils. It was just as perfect and Sam (sushi making Sam, that is) was just as grumpy as we remembered.


**it's also possible that all the extra space, hats, and cheap food in the South made Sam temporarily crazy.

On the way back up, we drove through the most beautiful frozen valley in Maryland. There was ice on all the trees, and I felt like I was on the planet Hoth in Star Wars or some similarly named frozen planet. Quite otherwordly indeed.