A humbling moment. I have lots of them.

April 28th, 2008

I’m a big fan of hand-painted signage. It’s a dying art, but it’s still out there. You see it sometimes on trucks, but where you see it the most are the rip-off electronics places scattered all over midtown Manhattan. They always have flat-screen TVs playing Britney Spears videos. All the stores of this ilk that I pass are playing one Britney video or another. I wonder if they had a meeting and decided that Britney was the artist to go with. Did you know between the perfumes and the clothes and the investments and attaching her name to stuff, Britney pulls in $700,000 a month? But I digress.
So I pass about three or four on my way to work, and all their hand-painted signage is very nice, but then there’s this one store. Their lettering is PERFECT. I could never paint so flawlessly. I always stop and gawk when I pass by. I made a collage of pictures I took of the signage in the window. Even if you have excellent handwriting, you can feel the humility wash over you.

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Rawk of Lurv.

April 24th, 2008

I’ve commented on the VH1 herpestravaganza “Rock of Love” before (here, in fact) and I try not to watch it because the idea of many women competing for a man and wrasslin’ greased pigs (no, really) to win dates with him is a wretched concept to me. However, I watched the final episode because one of the girls on the show had a regular job (TV host) and was 37 and mature and funny and had natural small bosoms. And she was competing against a woman who was a 25-year-old stripper (which is fine, get yo’ paper Booboo, I ain’t mad atcha) but who was really not very bright and had some of the worst plastic surgery on her face I have ever seen. Anyway, I watched the final episode (my choice won, hooray) and I think Bret Michaels seems like a genuinely nice person with very pretty blue eyes. Afterwards I decided I was really unfamiliar with Poison’s music so I put Poison’s Greatest Hits on my iPod and listened to the whole thing at work. Here’s the thing: IT’S BAD. Not dated like Whitesnake (whom I love) or tongue-in-cheek wink-wink bad, no. They’re very serious about what they do and it’s awful. I mean, “Unskinny Bop” is horrendous. If I wrote a rock song, it would sound identical to “Unskinny Bop”. This is not a compliment. But for now, we shall deal with the vaguely unsucky song, “Every Rose Has Its Thorn”. Apparently Bret wrote this when he and his girlfriend had just broken up and he was really sad and it comes through, so good for him. However, his lyrics are at a second-grade level. We will discuss the chorus:

Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn

Okay, first of all. he should have used “morn” instead of “dawn” because then you wouldn’t have to mumble to get all these things to rhyme. Now, from the first line, you think he’s going to set up a pattern, “Every good thing has a bad aspect to it”, which is true. The next line is “Just like every night has its dawn” which is that idea backwards, putting the bad aspect in front of the good thing. Then the third line: “Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song”… which has NOTHING to do with ANYTHING. He could have substituted any rhyming element there and it would make the same amount of sense. Something about how his ass is chafing from a tight, tight thong, or he can’t smoke weed through his clogged, clogged bong, I mean, really, anything. Needless to say, Bret’s solo album that VH1 was hawking during the entire “Rock of Love” episode, yeah, I won’t be buying that.

I made some things! Let’s look at them, shall we?

April 18th, 2008

First, some ads I made for NewCastleNOW.org that are nice, hooray for me:

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Then I designed a handout for NewCastleNOW.org that I’m very proud of. I went to New Castle and took pictures of various buildings, signs, statues, etc. and created a tableau in Illustrator. I had a bit of a struggle because the buildings in New Castle tend to be short, like two stories, except for the churches, and I couldn’t have a town completely comprised of churches. “Welcome to New Castle, the most religious place on earth! You got a faith, we got a church for it!” But I think I made it work (thank you, old-growth trees for being so tall, I appreciate that), and I think it turned out really terrific.

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This is the end of the owl posts for a while.

April 18th, 2008

Across the street from where I work is the park with the owl monument, the one where the owl’s eyes blink green at night (SO AWESOME). Well, I took the time to walk over there and the whole park is covered in owls. Apparently the park is dedicated to Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, so owls aplenty. There are two who greet you as you walk in.

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This is one. “Welcome to my park. I’m very serious and I glare at visitors. Don’t litter!” (smacks you with ruler across your hand)

And on top of this bell there is a wee owl, bringing the total to five owls in the park.

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Anyway, the reason I walked over there was that it smelled really flowery and springy for blocks all around. When I got there, I saw that they were planting a gazilion and one plants. And it was very photogenic, so here are some pics to wish you happy spring.

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Little angry owl.

April 14th, 2008

My friend B. sent me a picture of an owl that he saw at a raptor exhibition. It’s a wee screech owl, it weighs no more than a candy bar. BUT YOU CANNOT CONTAIN ITS RAGE.

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That glaring eye haunts me when I sleep. It’s like the Eye of Sauron, I tell you.

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My apartment Part 637. Plus some pretty cool news.

April 11th, 2008

First, my interesting news. I got a job. I didn’t plan to, I was perfectly happy working in my underpants at home all day. But I was offered a terrific deal so I took it. Now I work at Publicis in Herald Square in Manhattan across from Macy’s. No one really knows my title, so I am going to say I am the Grand Poobah Designer of the Communications and New Business Departments. That’ll look nice on business cards.

Now, my apartment! Progress! I’m so happy!

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A sink! A toilet! A floor! It’s so great! Really, it looks fantastic. I’m thrilled with how this came out. People should feel honored to tinkle here.

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A view of the tub with the sink next to it. They still have to put in the hook that holds the showerhead up so right now it’s draped into the sink. Everyone remember that the walls are going to be painted white, so the tiles will “pop” more than they are now against that aqua sheetrock.

Since I’ve bought this apartment, I’ve been hemming and hawing about the other bathroom. I planned to redo it someday, but later on when I have more money. My mom called me the other day and said the workmen were there already, the hell with it, redo the other bathroom already. So I’m gonna. Money be damned! Here’s a pic of the bathroom as it is now:

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I replaced the sink and the cabinet and I ripped out the formica countertop and full-wall mirror and that’s where I planned to stop. Now we’re going to tile the walls (halfway up, like wainscotting) and the floor, get a new toilet in there (this one is tiny and grey, new toilet will be bigger and white) and replace the tiles and fixtures in the shower. Here, look at the shower:

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There’s three handles in there. And the tile is chipped and you know, bleagh. So I’m going to the tile place this weekend and I shall peruse the stock and pick wall tiles that fill me with mirth and delight. I spend my weekends looking for tile for the bathroom! I’m old now!

Today, a movie review and a totally rad video.

April 8th, 2008

I saw the film The Hours, the one where Nicole Kidman is wearing a fake nose and she won an Oscar for her role, blah blah blah. If you have a choice between watching this film and poking yourself in the eye with a straw, go with the straw. It’s a literary chick flick, meaning they use big words and philosophical ideas, but they’re still whiny and moody. And there’s way too many women kissing in this film. Two of the characters are lesbian lovers, so that’s fine, but in one scene a woman kisses her neighbor right out of the blue (…alright, then) and in one scene a woman kisses her sister (NOT alright then). And while these are full-lip-action kisses, they’re not terribly sensual at all, so guys, don’t get excited. I’m a big fan of non-traditional arty movies, but this one is boring and tedious. I’m starting to think I just hate the kinds of movies Julianne Moore is in. I didn’t like Magnolia (everybody in that movie needs to shut the hell up), and I’m looking through her IMDB file… nope, not a big fan of the films of hers that I’ve seen. I will use her as a warning sign from now on. “Oh, Julianne Moore is in that movie? I probably won’t like it then.” Save myself some time.

I saw this today on CuteOverload, and I think everyone needs to see it. It’s only 40 seconds long, but I would watch an hour and a half of it, and then I would like it more than The Hours.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THeSHtom1sU

My apartment.

April 1st, 2008

But first:

There’s a funeral parlor in the town next to my parents, in Port Chester NY. I have loved and coveted this funeral parlor for years. It’s a white ornate Victorian house with two staircases, a wraparound porch, a turret-y thing, adorable windows and details, etc. Oh, I want it so bad. It sits on a hill a ways away from the street, so as you come down the hill, (angels singing) Aaaaaaahhhhhhh…, there it is. AND NOW IT’S FOR SALE. It needs a good coat of paint and some TLC, but damn, if I hadn’t just bought an apartment, I would snap this place up in a second. So if anyone out there has however much they’re asking for this big ole painted lady, can I please have the money so I can buy my dream house? Thank you.

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And now, my apartment! As told through photography!

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Well, as you can see, there’s no more mirrored wall. And it’s been sheet-rocked over. We’re getting there with help from a New York apartment renovation expert. Now the room doesn’t toy with your sense of perspective, making you think the room is bigger than it is, and then BLAM you’re slammed in the face by a mirror and you’re sad and you have a dent on your forehead. So that’s good.

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That’s my super-phenomenal boyfriend Cricket attempting to figure out how to change my cabinet doors should I want to (and I want to). I made a budget for myself for my kitchen of $10,000. Don’t laugh, I’m trying to achieve it and I may make it still. I found a place in Pennsylvania that makes cabinet doors and you have to stain them, put the hardware on them and install them yourself, but it whacks the price way down. So that is what Cricket is attempting to figure out, whether we can attach the doors and not have them catch on each other or chip on each other or just rip the hell out of the cabinets.

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Look! I have a tub! With fancy-shmancy tile! The tile makes my bathroom look like a W hotel or a spa. It’s soooooothing, which is pretty much what I was going for. I didn’t want a zesty bathroom with lots of pizzaz. I wanted a bathroom a Buddist would walk into and meditate in.

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Now, this is what’s next to the tub (read: nothing). There is a distinct absence of a pooping device and a hand-washing device (and a floor), but that’s all getting done this week, and then maybe I can move in! Someday soon! Like before my birthday (July 31st)! Hurrah and Hippity Skip!

My Saturday in Manhattan.

March 31st, 2008

I went into the city on Saturday to meet my friend B. and go to the bead show at the Metropolitan Pavilion (where I went for the chocolate show last year). I got to walk down my favorite block while I was there, 18th Street between 5th and 6th. I went into the used bookstore and as soon as that familiar smell of slightly moldy books hit my nose, I was right at home. The bookstore, should you want to drop in and check them out, is Skyline Books:

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They have a shop cat. If you were on the fence about visiting them, this should push you over the edge.

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Right next door is Utowa, a flower shop for the trendy and tasteful. I went in and looked at the vases and their ridiculously gorgeous flower arrangements. And they had one of the orchids I was talking about, my favorite orchid, I mentioned it in the Macy’s Flower Show post. I tried to take a picture of the orchid, it came out a little blurry, but you can still appreciate the evil goodness.

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Across the street is a used CD store, where I just wandered in to kill time and then proceeded to buy a whole stack of CDs. They were between $3.99 and $6.99, and some of them were new, still in the wrapping. So super-terrific, really. The CD shop, called Academy Records, has a phenomenal collection of classical CDs, as well as rock, pop, jazz, spoken word, etc. They also have a big pile of videos and DVDs too. And I assume they have records too, because it’s in their name.

I eventually made it over to the bead show and met up with B. and I promised myself I wouldn’t buy beads unless there was something really really mind-blowing. And I was doing really well too, pottering around behind B. watching him buy bits of this and that and telling myself how good I was being until. There’s always an until. There was this guy selling ammonites. Here’s a bit of info on ammonites:

http://www.stonesbones.com/amm.htm

And I was fine until I saw them, all sitting there. See, I’m a die-hard fossil nut. I loves me some ULTRA-DEAD things. And I’m redoing my kitchen backsplash and countertop (there’s a point here). I’m redoing it with big tiles (because I cannot afford granite, butcher-block, stainless steel, zinc, copper, cement, etc.) and I’m going to incorporate some geode slices and (point tie-in here) ammonites into the backsplash and countertop. And there they were, taunting me with their sparkly not-alive-ness. And they were small and only $6.50 each. So I bought a few. Like, twenty. Hey, you’re not my mother, shoosh you! All my pride in my restraint went right out the window. But who cares, I got ammonites! Whoo hoo!

After B. and I had decided we had lightened our pockets enough, we decided to go out to dinner (it was 4:30). I had been to Soba-Ya once and I remembered it being fantastic, so I recommended we go there. It was right on the other side of town, but the weather was peachy, so we headed over. They lived right up to my memories. We had three appetizers, our bowls of noodles, and three desserts. The appetizer that I’m still dreaming of was the pork belly with a poached egg in sweet soy sauce. I don’t normally eat meat, but I would eat this everyday for the rest of my life. Ohhh, it was melt-in-your-mouth good. The dessert that I thought was the best was the honey wasabi ice cream. The honey and the creamy ice cream nicely balanced the ping! the wasabi put in your mouth. Oh, and we showed up as they opened the door for dinner. Halfway through the appetizers the place was full and by the time we left there was a long line. So if you ever go there, get there early. Like, when they open.

I would like to thank B. for putting up with my constant prodding during the bead show and when we were walking around the city. He has a nice quiet child, so I can’t imagine he is accustomed to someone going, “Oooh! Oooh! Lookit!” every three seconds. Bless his patient soul. I bet he went home and bought stock in Ritalin. Or joined a monastery that has a vow of silence so people weren’t JABBERING AT HIM ALL DAY. But anyway, thanks B. Next time I’ll bring my muzzle.

I must be in Hawaii, ‘cuz look at all this spam! (Hey, they can’t all be winners.)

March 27th, 2008

 I love watching the evolution of spam, as you three readers well know. Now the spammers are clearly just looking through dictionaries to try to find random words and they are picking just the BEST fake names. Here, allow me to give you a sampling:

Maury Hardy
octavian apastron caribbee gadzooks sidenote crannog apocryphalness monotheist

Dixie Mendez
outmantle drukpa thinginess multirotation gyracanthus disguisal els osteophytic

Kermit Chaney
paxillary neurilemmal sublime horned duchess moltenly underprivileged prestimulus

Sterling Sargent
thermoelectricity chairmaker typometry semishirker barbarical chilitis benefactor myoid

It reminds me of those make-yer-own-poetry magnets that were so popular in the 90s. I’m particularly partial to the “sublime horned duchess” who is “moltenly underprivileged”. That must suck for her.

I’ve been working freelance in the city lately, and I must admit it isn’t the greatest commute from the ‘burbs (an hour and a half, door to door). But as I’m approaching the office, I am greeted by this sculpture everyday and it makes me so happy:

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An owl! It’s like they knew I would be working here and they put that there just for me! New York is so thoughtful sometimes.

Addition: I left work late the other night, and get this: the owl’s eyes have green lights in them and at night they blink on and off! Green lights! Demonic owl sculpture! I… I don’t even have words for my joy.