Catch up

Boy are you guys lucky I decided not to write yesterday. I was in a majorly nostalgic mood and had an arsenal of high school stories coupled with who-I-love-right-now gossip all jumbled up into one big barfy chick chat. But today I woke up with my usual emotionless self and realized I hadn't downloaded any pics from my camera since just after Christmas, so here are some tales from the last month. Back in New York...
Went to Balthazar to have breakfast with Ileen just two days after I got my wisdom teeth pulled. Check out the crucial chipmunk-cheek scenario.
Ileen's dad started Members Only, the line of jackets from the 80s whose slogan was "When You Wear Members Only, Something Happens." Not sure what that means. Like something as in dude driving the Prius ahead paid your bridge toll so he could fulfill his self-imposed 'pay it forward' debt? Or something as in you find your boyfriend's bone list mixed in with your bills?*

I'm dying to take Ileen to a party and introduce her to people as the "Heiress to the Members Only Fortune" with a straight face.

Went to Opening Ceremony where we scored some goodies including two old editions of Butt Magazine, for the articles of course. Its a good rag people! Then headed to Williamsburg to go get a haircut. Look at this amazing loft! I still wouldn't move to Brooklyn though.


Oh by the way, people need to stop calling Williamsburg a 'dorm room.' That joke is so Electroclash era and its no longer pertinent. Williamsburg is all baby stores now and that's fine. Who cares if its turned into a haven for 'hipster parents?' So? They're just yuppies all dressed up in black. The dads have cool jobs, the moms go to knitting classes and they both do Nude Yoga and love David Rees. And? SO? Its too late people, we're all the same now. Nothing is cool anymore. I mean, MySpace has a fucking surf contest at Mavericks. Talk about having your spot blown up. HEY! Speaking of, have you guys heard about the new taco truck on N. 7th? The chefs Jeff and Curtis are WHITE. I cannot wait to get back to New York and taste them treats. I'll take photos and report for you upon my return. Moving along...

Danielle came over the next night only to see this mess in front of my apartment. What you see here is a testament to the problem that New York has with allowing multiple private companies to govern and maintain our City's trash disposal. The mafia still owns most of the dumps (ya know, for the dead bodies n stuff) so each company picks up trash on different days according to the provider, the zoning, and whether or not you are a commercial or residential operator. There is little consistency to our garbage disposal, so sometimes you have scenes like this one outside your door for 72 hours.

Take a good, hard look at this. This is the most depressing pile of crap I've ever witnessed. A stationary bike circa 1992, a stepper, workout videos, and boxes and boxes and BOXES of Slim Fast bars. I mean, if you could take a shame spiral and make it into a tangible thing, this would be it.

After the laughter subsided over all the dietary rejects strewn angrily onto the sidewalk, a quiet terror loomed over me. The evidence pointed toward a depressing scenario that was taking place upstairs, probably just feet from my front door.

Using the deductive theory, we concluded that there was a frustrated, obese single person who had abruptly thrown in his or her towel and was sucking thumbs in a dark room in my building somewhere. Based on the archaic components of this person's nutritional plan, he or she had their physical peak 15 years ago and had bitterly tossed their hopes of improvement onto the uncaring streets of New York. Oh the despair. Who was it? Which neighbor would make me seeeaaad for the rest of my tenancy on Sullivan Street?

Anyhow, all roads lead to Bacaro and/or Sweet Paradise. Ted's shirt rules!

Afterwards we met up with Chrissie, Wade, Lenski, Nick and Lisa at Lit.
Nick looking like Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl
Lisa looking ike Kiera Knightley

The next night A-Ron had a party at his new pop-up store. That's Adrea in the middle and Noreen on the right. Noreen and I only call each other during Fashion Week. I see her exactly twice a year, like clockwork. We've been to some amazing events and shows in the past, but I won't be in NYC this season so have fun without me Noreen! Get me gift bags from Alexandre Herchcovitch and MJ! Toodles Ciao Darling!

I came home that night only to look out my bedroom window and see THIS happening:
OMG! The guy who lives across from me was making his weenis sing to the pages of a catalogue. Not a Victoria's Secret catalogue, either. It had more of a Macy's vibe. This is a crappy picture, but I could see it SO clearly. I wondered if maybe one of the models was an ex-girlfriend or someone he'd just met at a bar because I couldn't imagine why else he wasn't using some good old-fashioned internet love to... ya know...ew. Anyhow I called Danielle scream-laughing. It was absolutely VILE, but of course I sat there and watched for like 5 minutes. Then I took a shower and came back and guess what!? STILL THERE.

Met Alex Burns to go over tour stuff for The Virgins. Ran into Matt Lenski who lives on the same block as me, then Erik came down to meet me for coffee. This is a picture of all three of them showing baby pictures of their nieces and nephews to each other. It got a little metrosexual for a min.
Did you guys hear about Lenski and Burns' Halloween costume? They were gay dads. I think one of them was named Mitchell:

Next evening was dinner with the gang. AOC is supposedly "the most romantic restaurant in New York." It was really delicious, but I like Il Buco and most recently Allen & Delancey. I had drinks there after seeing There Will Be Blood but ate there a few days later. I give both the movie and the restaurant a two thumbs up. Hey-o!
A.O.C. (Justin, Tasha)
Megan
Crispy Duck Breast, Bosc pear, Vanilla potato puree.
A.O.C. homemade Goat Cheese, Calamata Olive Puree, Smoked Sweet Corn Sauce.
“Two Ways” beet salad.

Well I'll stop here. I've got a story to share with you about how I got sucked into a naked hippie stew in California last weekend, but one thing at a time. Check you dudes later!

*That happened to me once. There were 64 other women on his list of chicks he'd boned. When I found it indiscreetly tucked into my papers and whatnot just days after I broke up with him, I thought to myself "Nice move!" then upchucked and took a rape shower. Also, tests.