Shocking!

I never thought in a million years that I would say or type the following words but, I think the MTA has a great idea with these street compasses on the sidewalks outside of subway entrances.

Back in the old days, whenever I exited an unfamiliar subway stop, I would look for the Twin Towers in the distance to orient myself. Now, I sometimes wander an entire block in the wrong direction before realizing what has happened.

I'm sure the MTA will find a way to screw up this great idea (like making the decals too small for more than 2 or 3 people to view at once, thereby causing more congestion at the tops of the subway stairs as confused idiots form a crowd to see what everyone else is looking at) but I'm going to just hope it all works out.

What Do They Know That They Aren't telling Us?

Yesterday I flipped over to NY1 to check the weather and saw some bit about a contest awarding people fully stocked Go Bags. In case you don't know what a Go Bag is, it's the emergency kit that we are all supposed to have, which we can grab and go and be prepared for anything. Your Go Bag should contain batteries, a flashlight, bottled water, emergency poncho, case of wine, bandages, bottle of whiskey, a couple 40s of Bud, and whatever else you might need in the event of an emergency.

After spotting the NY1 contest, I was perusing the Real Estate section of the Times and happened upon another article about Go Bags. Now this morning on the train, I was standing directly in front of a bright yellow poster asking NY if we are ready for an emergency.

So what's with all the emergency prep this week? Is this a new tactic between the city officials and the media to passive aggressively alert us to an upcoming attack? Has the PR agency hired to pimp Go Bags been working overtime or calling in favors lately? Or has someone simply alerted the media that Jenni B is returning to NY for two weeks?

In any event, I'll be making sure the bar at home is fully stocked and maybe I'll even buy a battery or two.

Another Fashion Week?

My office is two blocks away from Bryant Park so I pass by and loiter there fairly often. Unfortunately, I won't be spending much time in the park for the next week or so because its time for Fashion Week! I know New York is a very fashionable city but it seems like there is a Fashion Week once a month.

Anyway, as I was passing by this morning the park and tents were overflowing with the fashionistas, fashion-mavens, fashionists or whatever the hell the fashionable term for those in the fashion industry is today. Out of all the people I spotted posing around the entrance to the tents, buzzing around the park and smoking on the sidewalk, 99% were dressed in all black. To me, this doesn't seem like a very difficult look to come up with. Anyone can dress in black from head to toe without putting any thought at all into the outfit. Morticia Adams favored this look as did Johnny Cash. Even fat girls have long donned the darkest shade.

I don't know about you but I wouldn't buy a car from a person who only owns a bike. So shouldn't the people who dictate what is style be forced to dress with a little more creativity?

The pop-o-matic Bar Report

You know you are at a swanky joint when the coasters on the bar are crisp, white, hand-stitched cloth squares rather than the usual soggy cardboard circles with adds printed on them. I'm still not entirely sure why we were doing happy hour at The Star Bar in The Ritz-Carlton on Central Park South last night but I generally go where I'm told so there I was.

Despite this current location for the Ritz-Carlton being just a few years old, the hotel and bar have the feeling of old world New York with luxoriuos fabrics, rich woods and more marble than a Roman bath-house. With furniture and accessories that look like they may have once belonged in a Czar's palace, the place is gaudy but not too much.

I imagine that on nights where the crew I was with aren't there it's a quiet and stuffy setting but we managed to have a great time basking in the opulence and enjoying the talents of famed bartender, Norman Bukofzer. You aren't getting out of a place with a "famed" bartender cheaply, which is why this is the perfect spot to bring your parents from out of town when they visit you in New York.

Beats & Treats

Speaking of how drunk I got last night (see earlier post) ... Seth and I headed downtown (is it still called downtown if we traveled there from Brooklyn, which is technically even farther down?) to the Cake Shop to see fellow blogger, Lioux, and his band Sister Kisser perform.

The show was great and both Seth & I were blown away by how much we liked Sister Kisser. The Cake Shop, a little place on the lower east side, is actually a bakery/coffee shop on the ground floor with a basement where the bar and stage are located. After the show we met Lioux, who also introduced Seth & I to Colleen of Cokane's bloggery. It was great to finally meet both Lioux and Colleen in person and throw back a few drinks together. On our way out, Seth bought some cupcakes, one of which is sitting in the kitchen right now looking delicious. Seth ate the Chocolate Iced Chocolate cupcake during the cab ride home and described it as "fucking awesome" and "superb". He is talking about going back just for a cupcake.

As usual, we capped off our night with a few more 6-packs back at the apartment and we are both feeling it today. The last thing I wanted to deal with this morning was a surprise visit from my landlord with some lady and a camera informing me that the building is being sold and this lady needs to photograph my apartment. Great! Anyone know of an available apartment?

Political Diatribe #1

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UPDATE! Since first publishing the below post, Paris Hilton has been ordered to return to jail! I'd like to think this post had something to do with that so please just let me keep believing that.
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If you have read this blog from time to time you've probably noticed that I rarely discuss politics, the "news" or celebrity gossip. My stance on these topics is that there are entirely too many outlets vomiting up that information so there is no need for me to regurgitate what you already know or can easily read on E, cnn or the Wall Street Journal.

That's why it pains me to type this post. My conscience and too much beer has the better of me at the moment and I must tell you how fucking* pissed off I am about P. Hilton being released from jail after serving just two days of her sentence.

Let me start by saying, I have nothing against Paris Hilton. I publicly admit that I enjoy 'The Simple Life' and even have her song from last summer on my iPod (what can I say, I like crap pop music). What pisses me off about this whole debacle, is that it proves the American legal system is a complete bullshit farce where those with money and power can do whatever they want and get away with it.

Lets imagine for a moment that you, assuming you are like me and not a billionaire celebrity, get arrested for drunk driving. here is what will happen, you will lose your license, get hit with a fee and spend several months worth of time in Wednesday evening classes with your fellow unlucky ripped roadsters. Now, heaven forbid during the time you should be in "class" you get picked up by the cops for driving with a suspended license. Guess what? You are fucked! You are going to jail for the maximum time allotted, not some bullshit two week stint with "special needs" privileges. and once you get there, you are in! No one is going to let YOU out after two days because you are having medical problems can't handle it.

So why did Paris get preferential treatment from the United States government? Because her family has power and oodles of money!

During the Civil War, the draft was enacted under the title, "the Enrollment Act". This act contained several paragraphs of small print exemptions, which allowed any man who was drafted to buy his way out of service if he could pay the "commutation fee" of $300.00 (a huge sum back then).

Eventually this insane and entirely prejudicial law led to the Draft Riots in New York City. Angry mobs of poor people who would never come close to raising that kind of money went on a destructive rampage, taking out their rage and frustration on the city's black citizens. As the angry mob made its way uptown towards the mansions of 5th Avenue, the army was called in, fresh from the battle at Gettysburg, to put the riot down.

I'm not saying that everyone who isn't a hotel heiress should rebel and riot against the government. But how can a country that we were all raised to believe was founded on equality and freedom allow its officers and law keepers to exhibit such blatant preferential treatment? What sort of example does this latest miscarriage of justice set for the rest of us? Why don't we all start breaking laws and cite the case of Paris Hilton vs. The Legal System of the United States of America as our defense?

Ok, I'm off my soap box and promise to return to my usual format of post that deal with how drunk I was last night.


*This is the first time in the history of my blog that I have typed the word "fuck".

I Like Art

If you are a regular reader of the blog, Zombie Fights Shark, you are probably familiar with the Friday afternoon post titled "Oooh Pretty", where an image of something, you guessed it, pretty is posted. Last week's Oooh Pretty was a picture of some shiny art thing on the streets of Chicago to which I commented that I wish NYC had more shiny art things laying about town. Well it seems as if the city's art gnomes read my comment and granted my wish with the following sculpture in Madison Square Park.



Ok, I know these sculptures have been there for a few weeks now but its still fun to delude myself and claim to have some sort of influence over the art world. In fact, each summer Madison Square park hosts an exhibit of large outdoor art. Last year there were concrete pillars, which I thought were just the foundations for the actual installation but as summer progressed and nothing was ever added to the pillars I realized they were the art. The summer before last, there were giant mounds that I'm fairly certain were petrified dinosaur terds.

Madison Square Park is the perfect outdoor setting for these exhibits. Its small with lots of walkways and more people que-up in line for the Shake Shack than all the city's museums combined. So the next time you find yourself waiting over an hour for a hot dog, remember to look up and enjoy the art.

Your Man On The Inside

Fact: A lot of my friends and readers don't live in New York City.
Fact: Lots of TV shows and movies use New York City as both a backdrop and often a character. Therefore I've decide to start a new post, "Your Man On The Inside", where I will dispel the rumors that Hollywood would have you believe about New York City.

Item #2: Crime Dramas on both television and in the movies would have you believe that New York City is literally bisected and disected by alleys. Hollywood often portrays theses alleys as havens for hobos warming their hands or baking their beans over garbage can fires, escape routes for crooks during hi-speed chases, the perfect spot to score and shoot crack, concert halls for crooning cats, and long maze-like halls that end at tall wooden fences.

The truth is there are little to no alleys like those mentioned above in NYC. While these places may exist in Queens or the Bronx, real estate in Manhattan is so valuable and scarce that no space, no matter how small, is overlooked.

A Man Of My Word

Some of you may recall that yesterday I was singing the praises of responsible drinking (much to the chagrin of my soused supporters). In said post, I also promised to atone for my night of responsibility with many evenings of irresponsible imbibing. Well I'm pleased to announce that I lived up to that promise last night!

Let me recount the portions of the past 14 hours that I can clearly recall. I met Seth for dinner at 6:30... I woke up in bed this morning. Just kidding. I actually remember the entire evening from my first cocktail to my second nightcap. After dinner, Seth and I made our way to the Knitting Factory for Kiki & Herb, where we met up with Seth's friends Aaron and Julie.

For those of you who have never witnessed the awesomeness that is Kiki & Herb, they are a lounge-style musical duo played by two guys whose names I can't remember at the moment. Herb plays the piano and occasionally sings while Kiki belts out the hits, does some fascinating dance steps and polishes of a bottle of Canadian Club. Last night's one-night-only performance was filmed for their upcoming DVD, which we will likely hear Seth and Julie shouting on. Words can't do this act justice, which is why I shot the following video for you. Enjoy!

Your Man On The Inside

Fact: A majority of my friends and readers don't live in New York City.
Fact: Lots of TV shows and movies use New York City as both a backdrop and often a character. Therefore I've decide to start a new post, "Your Man On The Inside", where I will dispel the rumors that Hollywood would have you believe about New York City.

Item #1: If you had watched a recent episode of 'Ugly Betty' you might believe that "The Middle Ages" theme restaurant exists in the heart of Times Square. I have to admit, I avoid Times Square like the plague but if this theme restaurant exists, its new to me. The closest thing to a middle ages theme restaurant in Times Square that I'm aware of would have to be the ESPN Zone. With two giant shishkebob skewers flanking the doorway and MoCap Boxing events inside, this place is just as barbaric as a pack of Huns. So please, non-New Yorkers, don't plan your next vacation to New York City with hopes of taking in a staged joust and eating mutton chops because it doesn't exist, at least not outside of Staten Island.

Rest Easy

I can only imagine how worried everyone was yesterday by the fact that I didn't post at all. You can call off the search party, stop dragging the lake and cancel the APB. I'm fine. I was doing my civic duty by sitting in a room all day keeping my fingers crossed that I wouldn't get chosen for jury duty.

My morning started a little frenzied since I completely forgot that I had to report for jury duty. It was only while frantically searching for my check book to write this month's rent check that I came across the jury summons that I received a few weeks ago and promptly put out of mind. The reason I was frantically searching for my checkbook was because I forgot today was the first of the month. It was only as I was lying in bed staring at the clock and wondering how many more times I could hit snooze that I noticed my clock also displays the date and today it was showing 5/1. Convinced that the clock was mistaken, I got up to turn on the TV to double check and sure enough, the clock was right. So next came the frantic search and subsequent jury discovery.

I took the fastest shower of my life and was out the door without stopping to google the Brooklyn court house to find out where I was going. The summons was kind enough to tell me which train would put me in the general vicinity of where I was to report but no further directions were given. I found a coffee vendor, which was also very important to find, and he gave me directions to the building I needed to go to. As soon as I made it to the first turning point in his directions, I realized I hadn't paid a bit of attention to anything he told me other than which way to walk once I left his kart. It occurred to me while looking for someone else official looking, like an officer, person wearing some sort of civil identification or another coffee vendor that I have a bad habit of doing that. I'm not one of those guys that refuses to ask for directions, I just don't pay attention when the directions are being relayed.

Eventually, after asking two more people for directions, I made it to the building and room where I would be spending the rest of my day. I actually had a lovely day with a window seat and a good book and when all was said and done, I don't have to worry about jury duty for another six years.

I Can't Work Under These Conditions

This morning I came into the office to find a stream of water running along my window sill. Notice the blue can on the sill collecting the steady drip? It makes a lovely noise each time the water lands in it.

I know, we are in the midst or record-breaking rain fall but since when does the city come to a halt because of rain? The mayor is holding press conferences and emergency shelters are being set up. Now the roof in my office is leaking and this is a new building! Jeez! Get it together New York or I'm going back to bed until this is all figured out.

The Pop-O-Matic Bar Report

Despite the fact that the weather remains winterish, my biological booze clock is fully aware that we should be in prime happy hour season. Spring is supposed to be that thin sliver of perfect going out weather when you can head to the bar sans jacket but still strut down the street without worrying about working up a sweat. These are supposed to be the days that are too nice to go home straight from work and you are expected to do your duty as a New Yorker by exploring happy hour discount prices.

Well screw you confused mother nature! I'm going out anyway.

Yester-happy-hour I whet my whistle at Flatbush Farm in Brooklyn. This large single room bar with adjoining separate restaurant and outdoor patio is designed to resemble an upstate farm house with modern, urban appeal. While the mixture of styles sounds a little odd, the Farm pulls it off nicely and the result is a casual and classy atmosphere.

But how are the drinks you might ask? They're Great! The bar features an eclectic and interesting beer selection plus several tasty cocktails such as the Mo' Stomy made with ginger juice, ginger ale, dark rum, mint and lime. Mmm Good.

I didn't get around to trying the food but with items such as tempura onion rings and fries with herb mayoniase, I'm fixing to remedy that soon.

Just When You Thought it Was Safe to Put Away Winter Clothes

Brrr! Its cold out there! It seems as if March went out like a lamb but April has come in like a frigid beast. Mentally I already put away all my winter clothes but physically I'm wearing my heavy coat. Not that I'm complaining though, because the sweltering oppression is on the horizon and I'd rather shiver than sweat any day.

Once the humid weather is here, I go out of my way to avoid sweating. The problem with New York City is you have to walk outside a lot and even worse head into the pits of hell that the subway stations become.

One of my early jobs after college was working for a PR firm downtown that was a lot of fun until the fun people left. After that I was stuck in an office of newly hired idiots who seemed to be handpicked by the boss to hide his own profound stupidity. I started sending out resumes in the spring but held off scheduling interviews until after September. I decided it was better to hate my current job than have to suit-up for an interview in the humid summer months.

I would ensconce myself in linen during the summer if it wasn't for the fact that my friend Jen went on a date with a guy who did just that and to this day we refer to
him as the Linen Lover. He also wore a lobster bib, made Jen pay for dinner and then tried to seduce her with candles back at his place. Anyway, I know if I were ever to wear a linen shirt with linen pants (and not be on holiday in the tropics) I would quickly be relegated to the role of L.L.

So I'll stick to cotton this summer and soak up these last few cold days with joy.

UPDATE: It's snowing! I guess it's like Prince said "Sometimes it snows in April."

Why I Prefer The Subway

I just got back from lunch with Polly Pocket at the NY Auto show. Yes, seriously. Polly Pocket is pushing her new line of toys, Polly Wheels, and I was one of a handful of idiots, I mean editors, that headed out in the rain to see her booth at the auto show.

The event was fine and I left quickly but there was some Mad Max-like excitement on the way to the show. I'm not sure exactly why, but a NY taxi decided to ram the car I was in. At first, I thought it was an accident since it's pouring and the roads are wet. But when he did it a second time with more force I realized he meant it. My driver and the cabbie got out of their cars and the cabbie immediately began screaming at my driver.

As luck would have it, the whole incident took place in front of some sort or hobo gathering and we had no shortage of drunks (the time was 11:45am) approaching our car to say they were witnesses and on our side. The drivers eventually got back in their cars and decided to drag race and cut each other for another three blocks until my driver finally blocked the cabbie into the right lane and ran a light at the last possible moment giving the cab the slip. I still have no idea what the whole thing was over but have never been so glad to arrive safely at the Javits Convention Center.

Oh yeah, on the way back to my office, we took a taxi rather than use the same car service and our taxi hit a car as he pulled over to drop us off.

I Gave At The Office

The other day I set out to take care of a few errands - haircut, drugstore, and sandwich shop - all conveniently located on the same block. Since that super convenient block is just one block away from my apartment I decided I could survive outdoors for this short period without my life-soundtrack so I left the iPod at home. Big mistake!

It turns out, I wasn't the only one with business to attend to on that block. The area was crawling with petition pricks. I know they are just doing their jobs. I actually met a lovely girl over the weekend who actually did this job once. But that doesn't change the fact that I am not interested in anything someone on the street wants to tell me. It doesn't matter if they have tickets to the funniest comedienne of all time, want to tell me about senator so-and-so's position on abortion, have free samples of a revolutionary new shampoo or are saving the environment - I'm not interested!

That doesn't mean I'm not interested in those causes, after all, who wouldn't want a revolutionary new shampoo plus, I'm already doing my part to save the environment - I use CFC bulbs and public transportation and only put the AC on when its hot outside. I'm just leery of any stranger that stops me on the sidewalk because no matter how the pitch starts, I know its going to end with them asking for money, which in my book is panhandling.

So anyway, one of the donation vultures was set up right in front of the place where I get my haircut and without my iPod, I couldn't play it off as if I was so into my music I was magically transporting out of my body and therefore there is no way I could even notice him. Fortunately, since he was standing right by the Salon (its more of a barber shop than a salon) I could prove that I wasn't lying when I said I had an appointment and couldn't stop. Unfortunately, he would still be there when I left. I tried to stall hoping the guy would reach his quota or just give up and leave but if I asked the woman cutting my hair to take any more off the sides, I would leave there looking like Butters from South Park. So I left and to my delight, the guy was busy with another sucker. I hi-tailed it around the corner and took the longest, most out-of-the way route back to my apartment.

I'd like to say that I learned a valuable lesson that day but the truth is, I haven't learned a thing.

My New Favorite Bar - Update

When I stake my claim on a new favorite bar I mean it. Friday night found my ass in the same booth at Union Hall that I spent Wednesday night in. The friday night crowd was completely different then the Wednesday crowd and by different I mean a bunch of loud assholes.

Somebody actually had the rediculous sense to bring their kids to the bar. I know, I know, having children doesn't mean ending your social life but give me a break, it was Friday night! And these kids weren't infants strapped into chairs or strollers. I would have no problem with infants as long as they weren't seated near me crying. Now that bars are smoke-free environments I see no reason not to take babys to a bar, unless its a place like Siberia or The Cock. But these kids were kids - running, shouting, tantrum-throwing kids. They spent most of the night throwing the bocci balls and disrupting the adjoining court's game.

Aside from the kids, there seemed to be a large B&T contingency, which is never a good thing, and a large group was holding some sort of awards ceremony in the rear of the bar. Despite all that, I still had a great time and resolve to continue my plight to be a fixture at Union Hall.

My New Favorite Bar

Let me start by saying that in no way am I claiming to be on the ground floor of discovering my new favorite bar. Judging by the crowd there last night, it has obviously been open for a while and already the favorite watering hole of many Brooklynites.

The bar is called Union Hall, on Union street in Park Slope. Just walking in, I knew I would love it by the way it was decorated like a cozy den or study. I've always dreamed of having a room like this in my house and if I ever own a house, will definitely make that dream come true. Despite the cozy atmosphere, the bar is large enough to sport two bocce ball courts in the back.

The menu offers a good selection of beer on tap, bottled, and even in cans (Seth was excited about the cans of PBR). The food is a step above the average bar menu (by average bar menu I mean wings and baskets of fries) but not as pretentious as tapas.

Another important prerequisite for favorite bars of mine are the bathrooms and again Union Hall scored high in this department. There's a large communal sink room with a good amount of private toilet rooms located on the basement level. Kelly, my drinking buddy and avid smoker, was pleased with the side patio area that allowed her to smoke without feeling the shame of standing out on the sidewalk.

The cost, in my opinion, is low for NYC. There were three of us, until Seth left for work, and we had several rounds of drinks (at least 6) and plates of food and the bill was still under $100.

All in all, I couldn't be happier with my new favorite bar and best of all, its a relatively short stumble from home. Who's up for happy hour today?

Please Stay in Manhattan

I lived in a cramped, moldy apartment in Manhattan for years. It was the only New York City I knew and where I intended to stay. Aside from a few drunken expeditions to Brooklyn, I knew nothing of this borough over the bridge. Unfortunately, like most New Yorkers who aren't wealthy Europeans, trust-fund kids, or living in the same apartment their grandmother grew up in, the lure of less rent and much more space eventually called to me and I packed up and crossed over the bridge to Brooklyn.

From the first day of my new New York City (Brooklyn is still part of NYC) life to today I've been saying I can't believe I didn't make that move sooner. As both my job and social life have remained in Manhattan, Brooklyn has become the peaceful escape, fortress of solitude, and calgon-filed bathtub that takes me away from the insanity of the city.

But now I'm finding more of my social life is moving to Brooklyn also. I have more friends in Brooklyn than Manhattan and I don't mean new friends that I've made here but established friends that happen to be living here. Unfortunately, they don't all live in Park Slope like I do. I've got Kitty here in my hood, which is great because we both love video games and the same pub, and one other friend farther up the road but everyone else is scattered across neighborhoods from Williamsburg to Cobble Hill. And this is where I've discovered the problem with Brooklyn - traveling within Brooklyn is a pain in the ass.

Getting a cab in Brooklyn is iffy so if I want to go to Williamsburg, I have to take the train into Manhattan and switch at Union Square. Sure I can walk to Cobble Hill but the 45 minute walk takes me through some 70's style projects and you never know which road may suddenly end at a canal. Last night, when traveling home via the F train from Monkey Daemon's pad in Boerum Hill, I made the mistake of getting on the wrong train and have no idea where I ended up but knew, judging from the subway station that I did not want to go to the street.

So for my own convenience, I implore my few remaining friends in Manhattan to stay there! Its so much easier traveling to and from Manhattan then it is around Brooklyn so just stay put. I'll come to you.