Left-Handedness/People

Before we get started here, let me point out that I am right-handed. My left hand is so useless that it can barely type out these letters. It hangs flacid off of my arm most of the time. I am absolutely NOT a lefty...yet, I am completely fascinated by left-handedness.

This is a new obsession and based in...well...nothing. When I meet someone I tend to think, first and foremost, about whether or not they are left or right handed. Lefties have all these crazy quirks. I don't know what it is...but it kind of turns me on. I'm serious here. Left-handedness is a total turn on. That awkward angle that they hold their pens? When I meet a guy and he turns out to be left-handed, that's a huge plus for them. 20 points. 

I've become obsessed with guessing which celebrities are "cool enough" to be left handed. I was right about Woody Allen, Tina Fey, and Kate Winslet.

Verdict is in...I'm totally losing my mind.

Pre-Dinner, Post-Dinner activities

My hiatus from updating stems from many factors, none of which I'll bore you with, however, I am back and I have things to talk about concerning the time we spend before and after we are eating and drinking (I know, shocking).

I've found that with warm weather comes a desire to reconnect with the outside world, at least for me. So I've been trying to be outside more, turn on my ipod less, listen more, and keep my eyes open. Keeping with this theme, I decided to take a break from my email responses, shut my laptop and put it under my bed before dinner tonight. My roommate and I decided to hit up the new tapas place on the corner, but she was running a little late, so I sat myself down on my newly laundered sheets (isn't that the best feeling in the world, clean bedding?) and picked up my book. Okay, so I lied, the computer wasn't fully shut, it is my only means for playing music, so it was left slightly open and plugged into my speakers. I put on my "afternoon jazz" playlist–a collection of Coltrane, etc that has always been a pre-dinner favorite of mine–perched myself on the pillows and cracked open the book. Sure, I was hungry, sure, I had things to do, but sometimes the best way to enjoy a good meal is to just take a few minutes beforehand and SLOW DOWN. I'm all for living your life in the New York Minute, you know, rapido, rapido, rapido, but man, that takes its toll. Those 10 minutes of memoir reading, saxophone enhanced calm were priceless, and you know what? I'll answer those emails later, whenever I please, because they're not going anywhere.

After our delicious dinner (I think the neighborhood, and myself, is on some sort of latin food kick) I asked my roommate if maybe she wanted to go for a little walk around the neighborhood. Being the laid-back, agreeable person that she is, she obliged, and we walked in a little circle from Avenue B and 3rd street up to e 6th, over to Ave A, through Tompkins Square Park, and back down Ave B. Firstly, walking after dinner is a pastime in which I think everyone should partake, and secondly, there are so many amazing people and places and buildings and things to see! We walked about 10 blocks total and found some amazing stuff! The act of finishing a good meal and getting up and just walking around and digesting is just such an enjoyable one! 

So, we walked right by this gorgeous garden: Untitled Document and another, smaller one that I personally like a lot more. I feel like these gardens exist in a sort of dream world where I fantasize about having the time and the chance to spend time eating salads and drinking tea (or something) sitting on their benches. Nonetheless, they are beautiful, botanical places. Then we stopped and got vegan ice cream (something I'm not in the habit of eating, but was such a cute little place with a brick wall and apothecary jars with candy in them, that I just couldn't resist).

BUT, the highlight of the walk was the building that we "stumbled" upon on the east side of Tompkins Sq Park at 8th street. The building is red brick and four stories tall. After a short conversation about how much we enjoy peering into other people's apartments (oh, come on, its FASCINATING!) we look into a high ceiling-ed loftish space approaching the corner of B and 8th. It's HUGE! It's GORGEOUS! I walk around the corner to the entrance to the building and above the door is written "Talmud Torah Darch Noam", immediately confused as to whether this is a residential building or a synagogue I rush home to look it up. I must live there! Turns out the building was built in the 1800s as a Newsboys' Lodging House, and then turned into a Synagogue, then The East Side Hebrew Institute, and since 1978 a SEVEN APARTMENT Co-op. There are no good pictures, but this is what I've got: 

So, kids, I will now be calling the co-op president wondering how to get onto the waiting list for that building. I figure that in 20 years when someone dies and there's an opening, I'll be able to afford it. Here's hoping...

Pretentious?

So I've been informed by one of my three readers/friends (I have more than three friends, just not more than three readers) that my "blog is so pretentious". Said friend thinks I'm all snobby about New York and though she neglected to mention her disdain for the "What is the What" post, I am pretty sure that's just because of the touchy subject matter, but she still thought it was pretentious. 

So, this is a list of random things that I like that are unpretentious

And fyi, the reason for this post is really just because I haven't found anything new that I like that isn't edible or alcoholic and I thought all three of you would judge me if I wrote about food or booze anymore. I have no qualms with said friend thinking I'm pretentious about New York and designer peanut butter (mostly because I probably am) So, without further ado; 

Unpretentious Things I Like

-Cheap, delicious pizza...at 4 am

-Playing Twister

-Dumb Comedies (ie: Superbad, Old School, Anchorman, Pineapple Express, Wet Hot American Summer, Knocked Up, Wedding Crashers, etc)

-Cambells Tomato Soup

-Beer & French Fries (even if I only eat them off other people's plates)

-Walking around barefoot...in more places than I choose to admit. (Ever walked across E. Houston sans shoes? I'm up to date on my tetnus shots though, so yay!)

-Bowling (seriously)

-Wings, especially 10 cent wings...with lots of blue cheese

-Ketchup...and almost all other condiments. In fact, I put mustard on my leftover Halibut today for lunch. The restaurant cooked it in white wine with herbs and then I put mustard on it. So there, FRIEND.

-Fire escapes 

-Trader Joe's wine (cause its dirt cheap and doesn't taste like mashed up cherries mixed with vodka–sorry, Franzia)

-Mudsliding/slip and slide

And just in case anyone still thinks that I'm trying to be pretentious...feast your eyes on this for a minute..

In Summation, that whole list was about booze and food...just acknowledge that I know that just happened. I really only like food and booze. And drug movies. Damn.

What Is The What?

I am a victim of myself. I don't go to bed at a reasonable hour...ever. I've been up until 2 for the past week. But I haven't exactly been out partying, or even watching tv...so I guess it's excusable. 

I just finished reading "What Is The What", by Dave Eggers. Like 5 minutes ago...I literally just finished the last page. Anyway, it really was one of the most remarkable books I've ever read. I usually like books that make me feel good, and this ultimately did not. While uplifting, it just made me feel bad for having the life that I've had, despite the many reiterations that the main character (a Sudanese refugee–it's a true story) makes that those of us born here in the US should be so happy and are so lucky and SHOULD enjoy life. I still feel defeated. I feel as though I've done nothing but revel in things that are completely inconsequential in the larger scheme of things. And this is true of most of the people I know; we don't have a global outlook in the US, because for so long we haven't had to. On an even smaller scale, it is too easy to become completely absorbed in everyday life and forget that the world is a place that is full of civil war, famine, genocide, starvation, etc. 

I'm sorry, I hate preachy people, and I'm really not one of them, generally, but I just feel as though something has happened to me in reading this book. I've become aware of the world in a new light, and with that fact alone, the book is a complete success. Kudos to Dave Eggers for telling Valentino Achak Deng's story in such a compelling and beautiful book, and even more so to Deng, for having the courage and the chutzpah to get this book published. 

If you don't want to read the book, at least check out his website, it's really amazing (even more so if you've just read the book).

The Valentino Achak Deng Foundation - Homepage

Reiteration, Mostly.

I made it home early tonight and hit the small grocery down the block to pick up some essentials. I've decided I'm not eating bread this week, so I made sure to buy some salad essentials, a carton of milk, and a jar of my cinnamon raisin peanut butter. I'm pretty sure that the pb negates the lack of bread, but life is about negotiation and compromise, right? Anywho, I've just seated myself on the couch for a little r&r, pulled out a big ol' spoon, poured a glass of milk, and dug into the peanut butter (just in case you doubted my habits), and I can't find any raisins. This is not a catastrophe because I've promised myself to put the jar away after just a few spoonfuls (which is looking like quite a few spoonfuls). But a bigger problem has arisen. It is 11 pm and "Two and A Half Men" is on. I know this blog is supposed to be about what I like...but I feel it necessary to stray off topic to discuss my disdain for "Two and A Half Men". It should be noted that I've never watched an episode, however, the last 30 seconds before "Friends" starts leaves me with a similar feeling to that of eating a whole jar of peanut butter, minus the deliciousness...just the desire to vomit. AND when I don't think it can get any worse, that song comes on: "men, men, men, men, men, men, men, men, men, men, men, men, men, men, men, men, men, manly men, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo...meeeeeennnnn". It's like they threw this show together at the end of a four day bender on the plane back from cabo and asked the perky flight attendant what a show called "Two and A Half Men" should have as its theme song and she started singing "men, men, men, men..." I won't continue, it's giving me a migraine. I haven't figured out why the network picked it up yet though...maybe one of the buffoons was sleeping with a network exec and she okay-ed it to get out of fellating him post-Cabo...at least until he got tested.

I changed the channel and watched "Seinfeld". 

I've recently discovered The Daily Intel (NY Magazine Blog), and while I must say that I'm not really a huge fan of reading all sorts of internet blogging crap (but you should probably keep reading this...just kidding, no one is reading this except me. Over and over again. Marveling in my own genius.) I find that The Daily Intel has some seriously good features. Mostly just the one where once a week I get to read about slutty New Yorkers sexing it up all over town (and out of town). My favorite was The Recent College Grad Who'd Never Been In A Relationship, but this week the entries bored me The TV Producer Who Knew Everyone seemed predictable. However, what I wanted to point out was the comment section, where "GirlMonday" wrote "Very New York, and just goes to show that brunch is indeed the new Saturday night." I hate to say "I told you so", but I told you!! This TV producer had hot sex with a British guy she met at brunch...I love brunch! (And British guys...but that is a whole different topic, for a whole different day).

Summary: Tonight I ate peanut butter and someone else thinks brunch is fun. 

PS: This photo is what I look like eating peanut butter on the couch, obviously.

Led Zeppelin Makes Me Cry...

Not like Norah Jones makes me cry. Led Zeppelin makes me cry because they're so fucking good. Norah Jones sounds like naptime. But this isn't about Norah Jones...it's about Led Zeppelin.

Firstly, when I was little I thought that Led Zeppelin was one man. I thought his first name was Led and his last name was Zeppelin. It's funny to think about now, but then again, not all that irrational. It could be a guy's name. Led could be a first name. Led, clean your room. Can you do me a favor and pick up some milk on your way home, Led? Yeah, it's possible.

Anyway, I owe my father big time for popping on Led Zeppelin records in the living room when I was a kid. I also owe my father big time for still owning and operating a record player up to this day. I owe lots of things to my mother, but my musical and film knowledge were mostly acquired through my dad. Probably because my mother can't seem to remember if she's seen a movie or not. Ever. I know my brother would agree with me on these points, in fact, I sent him a link to this blog because I was writing this post. 

It stopped being cool to like the music that my parents listened to after I turned 8, though, until I turned 16...then something shifted. All of a sudden I was digging through the cabinets and stealing my mom's Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan albums (okay fine, she knows good music). All of a sudden I realized that my father being a jazz fanatic might be pretty cool after all. 

My brother and I spend too much time complaining about how we were born at the wrong time for music. In fact, I got a text from him today that reads, "[Almost Famous is] such a good movie. Every time i watch that or dazed and confused i feel like i got jipped and should've been born when our parents were". Touche, bro. Touche.

Per usual, I digress. Led Zeppelin. We were talking about Led Zeppelin. Listening to When The Levee Breaks might be a sexual experience, I'm just throwing it out there, it might. Tangerine makes me cry...especially when it plays at the end of Almost Famous (which is what prompted me to write this whole rant right now in the first place...yes, my Amazon dvds have arrived). Listen to Dyer Maker while walking around NYC in the summer...the song and the city smell the same (songs have smells...just roll with it). I wish Going To California was 5 hours long so I could listen to it for the whole plane ride to California. I could go through the whole catalogue, but I don't need to, because you can. 

Bottom Line: Every day should start with Bron-Y-Aur Stomp. And a big cup of coffee...

Drug Movies

Recession cutting into your drug habit? I've got a solution that you've probably heard of and already indulged in. 

Rewind. When I was in high school I began my dvd "collection". Most of these early movies were leftovers from girl's nights at my house and were never redeemed, and some were birthday presents from people who didn't know me very well, but as a result, the first few dvds in my collection were "Charlie's Angels", "Bridget Jones' Diary", and "The Princess Diaries". Bad start, "Diaries" and "Angels" do not a film collection make. 

But, I digress, and luckily, I discovered Amazon.com in college. I remembered all the old movies that my dad forced me to watch on TNT Sunday nights, I watched "Spun" in a fraternity bedroom, and I borrowed "Traffic" from a girl down the hall. The rest is history, a love story between a girl and her addiction--to movies about addicts, or selling drugs, or people getting their faces punched in because of drug money...well, you get the picture. 

I like to laugh my ass off at Seth Rogan and his silly man-boy antics, I thoroughly enjoy the Oscar winning films of yore (and present), and "The Wizard of Oz" will always hold a very special place in my heart (regardless of the field of poppies), however, props to the Drug Movies.

Lots of people like them...so this isn't a weird quirk I have, but I think it's worth pointing out that waking up and popping in "Pulp Fiction" is a great way to start your Saturday morning. And I'm pretty sure that I just ordered "Blow" and "Boogie Nights" from Amazon yesterday (I know...I should've already owned them). Umm, I forced my roommates to watch "True Romance" roughly 34 times last year, "GoodFellas" made me proud to be half-Italian, and I think that I told someone once that I wanted to lose 40 pounds and play a junkie. Oh yeah, and "Trainspotting".

Bottom Line: Drug movies might be better than drugs...they're certainly cheaper and less illegal...and they probably have a longer shelf life...and your mom most likely won't cry if she finds them in your apartment.