I wrote an email using my gmail account to my friend complaining about the forecast of rain for all of next week.
She replied with the following:
It’s cause it’s “rainy season” here. God I hope not, though…please explain to me how the following ad ended up accompanying your e-mail:
“Hey Look, It’s The Smurfs”
So many Smurfs for sale it would drive Gargamel and Azrael Smurfy!
WTF? what does RAIN have to do with the fucking SMURFS???
I don’t understand that connection. Google Adword’s underlying logarithm isn’t quite perfect.
This recent Wednesday, Matt had an otherwise unextraordinary day. He got up exactly 15 minutes after his two alarms–his clock and his cell phone–beeped. He went into the bathroom to brush and shower: After a 23 minute shower, he then got out, dried off, and then brushed, flossed and lastly, gargled mouth wash. 15 minutes later, suitably dressed and appropriately layered to ward off the cold, he briskly walked to the subway. 6 minutes later, avoiding the eyes of fellow passengers and morning commuters, he entered the train that arrived. With each stop, the train emptied and he arrived closer to his daily morning destination. While blankly absorbed in whatever song his iPod’s shuffle feature chose at that moment, little did he know his unextraordinary day would become something else: he would see a fantastic movie later that day.
The movie is called “Stranger than Fiction” featuring Emma Thompson, Dustin Hoffman, Maggie G, and Will Ferrell. Go see it. It’s a nice, casually contemplative movie that doesn’t feature wrestling between two naked men.
So in about a week, I will be enjoying a cool drink and sitting on a beach in the Cayman Islands and reading an appropriately thoughtless novel. The question for ya’ll is which novel??
I need some reading suggestions, ya’ll. Preferably one fiction and one non.
Thanks in advance.
I meant to post this a couple weeks ago, but on the heels of a New York Times write-up that explored places to go dance in NYC that didn’t entail velvet ropes and which mentioned Babel as one of those alternatives, I went to Cy’s weekly party there only to find cops inside doing a little check of Babel.
I calmly and cooly enjoyed my longneck Cornona and stealing cherries to eat while a cop examined all the bottles of alcohol at the bar:
After enjoying my Black Friday vacation day by doing a bit of shopping, clam chowda eating, and hair cut getting, I stood on the subway platform to catch my train back home when I noticed Chris Noth aka Detective Mike Logan aka Mr. Big walk past me.
I snapped a bad photo with my cell phone of him as he walked by.
I don’t have any editorializing comment about this sighting. He looked like the way he looks on TV–and unlike most celebrities, he’s as tall as he appears, if not taller. Of course, the wrinkles and facial blemishes are more apparent but that’s not surprising. Make up can do wonders. It was more amusing to see the slow glimmer of recognition that began building on the faces of everyone standing around him.
Oooh, artsy!
Say whaaaa.
Oh, snap, it’s Mike.
Corner Bistro gets a thumbs up!
Yes, Sam it’s like this: ARARHHGHG
Chillin with Mr. Hot Dog Man.
Two.
Bull cock
“Fuck it, I’ll eat it.”
Bull.
My friend Lllllll said that you can make any photo a picture a party picture by opening your mouth. It’s kinda true. ARAGGRGGHHH
I had a very surreal celebrity encounter today–I helped out Vera Wang and her family, and then discussed Thomas Friedman with Mrs. Wang’s husband.
Ack, so much since I last posted… Finally saw Borat: hilarious (of course).
I promised myself on Monday that this would be the week of no drinking and I’m staying the course so far: I even turned down an offer to drink at the Blue Water Grill where a friend’s bartender would hook us up.
This past weekend was fun as a friend from out of state visited. His presence was responsible for the doubling of the Alaskan population in New York City. But first, last Thursday was Babel-icious.
So many shots…
A bottle of Grey Goose just feels so good in ma’ hands.
The bartender made Cy a special shot since he’s the promoter, er, advocate of Thursday night Babel.
Some of Pam’s friends enjoyin the hookah first, worrying about germs later.
The sitch.
Dancin Persin.
So friday, Clay, ma’ bud from Alaska days, and his friend Jay visited the City from Deeceey. I’m not even going to worry about posting these in chronological order–if you want a fuller recap, go to C’s blog (and leave him a comment yo).
Jump!
Jay presents a Shirley Temple, which is for…
Cy of course.
Two Alaskans. Did your brain just explode?
RARARRH
Jump!
Enjoying Kate Moss’s amazing …hair.
So juvenile. *Shakes head*
ARGHGHH
Rockin’ out with crackhead blastin the hottest rap shit.
There’s nothing that screams gangsta more than a Jay flashing a sign, me proping
Monday: Oh, I love starting the week off by throwing up three, four, (I lost track) times in the bathroom at Dos Caminos. Thanks to thou shall go nameless for those tequila shots!
Thursday: Great Success! (at Cy’s party). After work, met up with friend for a little bit of skateboarding in Union Square. This is going to be the view from my future apartment:
W.
Bring dorkyglassesback.
Bam!
The three hookahteers.
This is the Cy I used to know before law school. Happy. Grinning. Goofy glasses.
Dance, dance NYC.
Oooh, artsy.
Friday: Recovering from Monday and Thursday by staying in and going to bed early. Yay.
Saturday: Great seats at the Knicks home opener at MSG–followed by even nicer courtside seats during fourth quarter. Not so nice was the Knicks. Terrible team. It’s going to be a long season. Afterwards, we hit up the bar at Thompson hotel: despite their no-sneaker policy that night, my Y3 sneaks were golden. A golden ticket in. Met up inside with Cy and his debatably attractive older broker (and her definitely unattractive and older friends). That was followed by wandering around 1st Ave before deciding on a bar. Around 3:15 am, Cy and I got very hungry and decided to go crosstown to Mecca aka Corner Bistro. We literally walked in at 3:33 and was firmly told that the kitchen was closed at 3:30. I think I pleaded with the bartender by pathetically holding my stomach and whimpering, “I’m..so…hungry…though.”
This photo was taken outside of Corner Bistro right after our rejection from Corner Bistro.
Then we decided to walk 14th Street to Meatpacking. Finally decided on Pastis…which was also closed when we got there. Then we walked over to Diner where we were told there was a 20 minute wait outside. Freezing our nuts off, we said “Ahhellno” and headed to Cafeteria. Once we got there, we found yet another motherfucking line and was told we had to wait 20 minutes as well. “Ahhellno.” Finally we pathetically wandered into an empty pizza joint and ate pizza–which Cy had for dinner earlier as well.
Wow, I look wayyy too sober in this photo (time taken, approximately 5 am).
This Monday night: Company dinner at Nero followed by more drinkingn at Gansevoort Hotel. If you ever go to Nero, I highly recommend you get their chocolate mousse. It’s two scoops of heaven.
