Foolish Mortal

I wonder if there's a full moon. I could just look outside, but it's too cold by the window. I would have noticed just now when I was outside; a full moon is so bright, and hard to miss. It was an odd day, slightly, or at least one full of odd things. Things that deserved to be photographed, had I been carrying my camera.

It began this morning when I stopped into Duane Reade on the way to brunch. There was a sloppily hand written sign taped to one of the pharmacy cash registers that read "Sorry ladies we are out of Plan B". I guess those ladies that are getting busy will have to move on to plan C. Seriously, was there really such a run on Plan B? WTF?

The second thing was on my way to the laundromat. There was a sign on the ground, the kind a cheesy store might have to advertise a sale. It was small, the size of an index card, and it was neon orange outlined in a zig zaggy black border. Pre-printed at the top, it said "Special". Written into the orange part was "Need man". I'll say!

Tonight I went to meet my friend Jerm for a drink on the UWS at a place called the Dublin House. They have a neon sign with a big ol' harp. There was no music playing when I walked in, just the sound of the few patrons inside, so I loaded up the jukebox with Rolling Stones and some other assorted tunes. When Jerm arrived we went to sit in the back, which looked like it serves as the dining area in busier hours. It was cleared out though, save for a couple who left almost as soon as we walked in. They left a mess at their table. And at the table next to theirs was a brown bag, of the lunch variety. Jerm called my attention to it so I went to check it out, thinking it was just more garbage. But no! There was food contained within. A banana, for starters. What I assume was a sandwich wrapped in aluminum foil. A little container with, perhaps, some kind of dressing or other condiment; being white I would say ranch dressing or mayo. And a fork. I was scared that it was the barkeep's lunch, so I quickly and stealthily put it back.

Finally, as I was walking up the first flight of stairs in my building, I noticed a vitamin bottle on the fourth or fifth step up. I picked it up, naturally, I mean who could resist? It was called "PC Extends". There's only one thing I can think of that people want to extend, but PC? I can't figure it out. I put it back on the stairs. It was unopened, so someone will make good use of it, I hope.

Leave neon where it belongs - in the grave!

I hate nu-rave style; the word style, in this context, is to be taken in the sense of "type" or "mode", rather than fashionable style. That's my basic problem with it, is that it's not fashionable whatsoever. It's pretty hideous, and not in an interesting, complex, and/or ironic way. Now I don't mean to brag, but I could probably wear nu rave style clothes and look damn hot doing it, but my point remains, and that is: nu rave is retarded. But what's worse is (oh yes, there is a worse!) when people ATTEMPT to pull off the look and FAIL MISERABLY! They are failures at a failed attempt at style. It's very disturbing to see people throwing these mid thigh length black cut off shorts with shiny purple leggings and crazy colored kicks and animal print (?!?) jackets together, and think they look cool. They wouldn't even look cool to nu ravers! I'd rather see lame attempts at punk, or goth, or ANYTHING BUT NU RAVE. Please god, make the pain go away from my eyes.

Window Shopping

Sitting right next to the huge windows in my office on Broadway does have some perks. Mostly I freeze in the winter and am blinded by the sun when it gets to a certain level in the sky, but I get to peek into the huge windowed places across the street, and also I get to laugh at the people sitting on top of those double decker tourist buses. The three buildings in my line of vision have all been renovated recently-ish, so I see the progress of change and of people moving in. I think most are design kinda places, graphics, marketing, architecture, whatever, but one directly across the street on the same level as my office is residential. They have little kids there and around Christmas they stuck Christmas tree drawings in the windows. Very adorable, and sweet to look at on those two days that it actually snowed this winter.

But now, right at this moment, there are three little hipster boys scrub scrub scrubbing away on some windows. I mean, they're really putting some elbow grease into this, they've been cleaning these three big windows for like thirty minutes now! They're even getting the outside, those bravey braversons! I wonder what their office will be. Magazine? Fashion house? Restaurant group? Maybe we should get one of those string and cup "phone" lines going, dang that would be awesome. Anyone know how to get one of those up and running?

Doodie!

I didn't see any special signs on the street, but I think the stretch of 27th Street between 10th and 11th Avenues is aka "Avenue of the Abandoned Dog Poo" (ok so it's a street not an avenue, but work with me people, "avenue" has a ring to it!). I was dodging a pile of it every five feet; it was sort of like a Double Dare obstacle course except here the obstacle is very very real poo and not fake snot. Come now, if you get a dog, you have to know that's part of the deal. YOU PICK UP THEIR POOP.

One Step Beyond

Today, my day of birth, all of my co-workers are wearing fake tattoos, including my boss. Fake tattoos for "old folks" that say things like "Grand Mom" and "Retirement Homeboy" and such. Just for me, for little old me! Well not OLD me. Not that old, at least. I welcome, embrace, and LOVE my birthday. Maybe it's because I expect pampering on that day, to be spoiled rotten the way I was as a child. Another year, another birthday, another step closer to 30. But who are we kidding, I'll just be 28 forever! Henceforward, we'll be celebrating the anniversary of my 28th birthday. 29 would be too obvious, and you know how I hate being obvious. When I got out of bed this morning, this is the song I put on first thing:



P.S. If you can get me those earrings for my birthday I will be your BFF.

Frogger

Now, I'm not one of those bag ladies. I'm hardly even obsessed with shoes. I like a nice bag and sure, I like a nice shoe, but my real fashion obsession would be for clothing, particularly dresses, more particularly, couture dresses. Which I can look at and love though I will never wear them. But like I says, I'm not a bag lady. Until I saw this Marc Jacobs Evening Rana Pouch:



OMG, it has a frog on it. With GEMS for eyes! It's a lovely little bag, frog or no, but the frog is what really seizes hold of my little heart. While searching for a photo of this thing, I came across a few blogs talking about this very recently debuted $795 pouch. And you know what? None of them like the frog! WTF? Tasteless fools.

Chirp Chirp STAB

Monday morning, the day following the "spring forward" daylight saving, I awoke naturally at 8 am. And then I heard them. The birds. The chirping birds. Not just any chirping birds, the really annoying chirping birds that have this long, drawn out, ascending chirp that drives me INSANE. They like to sit on the fire escape and CHIRP. All the time. Forever. I happened to wake up on my own Monday morning, but hereafter, until next winter or until I move to somewhere those birds aren't, whichever comes first, those goddamn birds will wake me up. And you know what? Winter isn't even a safe haven. They don't disappear completely during the winter. I've heard them here and there, chirping away. They won't let me escape, the birds. They'll always be there.

I Heart Christian Siriano

Some people may think he's a bitch, but I think he's a child GENIUS. And Amy Poehler is uh-MAY-zing.