MRod says: Is the crew ready? Like spaghetti.

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.

Like this:

I don’t know about you but from here on out I’m always going to sit in the rear of an airplane.

This is an oddly compelling remixed video of one of those stadium church evangelist preachers (Benny Hinn it seems) faith healing people by literally bitch-slapping them across the face, including old ladies as the “touched,” i.e., pushed, punched, slapped “faithful” subjects and congregation literally hit the floor in a dramatic collapse that strangely reminds me of the time Kurt Angle smelled what the Rock was cookin’ and got knocked out flat on the mat.

Watch with the sound on.

Who knew religion was so heavy metal?!

I’m too busy to blog the past couple days but I know some of you readers are greedy bastards and want an update every hour, so all I can say is go check out this link: http://usversusthem.wordpress.com. Its got good entertainacrastination material on it. They’re my latest addition to my blogroll.

(Thanks Robb!)

And for some hilarious photos from a recent party he had, check out my friend Clay’s latest entry here.

Walking by NYU, I noticed a car that had really quite an inordinate number of university decals attached to it.  I disagree with the order in which he or she placed the schools (longtime readers of my blog should know be able to guess which schools I’d rank as 1, 2, 3, etc), but really, how many schools can one attend?  Or maybe these are all the schools this person’s children attended, which may explain why they’re driving a Subaru?

Lauren introduced me to a hysterical clip of a local commercial (these are always the worst) that someone uploaded to Youtube with the apt title “Worst Commercial Ever,” but goddammit if it doesn’t have the catchiest jingle ever. It truly is a Best of the Internets. What also made it so great is that while sitting in the lobby of movie theater we were able to watch it on her–revolutionary!–iPhone (IMUSTHAVEONE!).

And in turn, I sent her the link to this classic bit about ice cream from Eddie Murphy’s standup. After seeing this, everytime I have ice cream I always want to swing my hips side to side and gloat to those who don’t got none that I got some iceeee creaaam.

In a recent entry reviewing La Vie En Rose, I commented that “Just because it’s French doesn’t mean it’s good.” That biopic was true of this sentiment. However, conversely “Mon Meilleur Ami (My Best Friend)” is an example of a film that is enjoyable precisely because it is French.

The basic conceit emerges from a bet between two business partners who own an antique shop: Catherine does not believe that her partner Francois has a best friend. The truth is deeper than that, not only does Francois lack a best mate, but lacks friends at all. He is not only disconnected from Catherine’s life and dismissive of those around him, including his girlfriend, as well as those he comes in contact with, but most painfully for him is his inability to connect with his own daughter. The bet brings forth this reality, which he feverously attempts to redress, resorting to desperate artifice involving a trivia whiz cab driver who possesses a certain savoir faire personality that Francois longs to attain. I’m refraining from discussing the plot too much for fear of giving away too many of the small surprises that makes this ultimately enjoyable.

This anodyne film lightheartedly explore notions of friendship, encapsulated in the question “Who can you call at 3 am?.” Times reviewer A.O. Scott put it best when he wrote, “My Best Friend” is a comforting, sentimental tale of a kind that would be insufferably maudlin if made in Hollywood and unbearably affectless if it showed up at Sundance. Somehow it’s easier to take in French.” Having no previous knowledge or awareness of this film, we read Scott’s review which was placed on a poster board by the movie theater’s entrance. And that statement nails the film directly on the head. While at times dancing dangerously close to the line of cringing cliched triteness, somehow because it’s French the story works.

Three stars out of five. Sometimes just because it’s French it’s good.

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!