Friday, January 26, 2007

the not-so-new-anymore 'hood

Aaaah, South Williamsburg. That beautiful melting pot of Hassidic Jews, Puerto Ricans, condo-buyers, and destitute young white chicks who don't mind living in windowless basements. It's a weird place, but I kinda love it.

Unfortunately, I do pay rent for my "apartment." And I quite enjoy when my super puts a sign inside the outside door reminding us not to let in anyone from ConEd. Screw utility bills!

I am really, really curious to find out who is going to live in all these shiny expensive condos. The subway is a solid 10-minute walk away, there are no decent convenience stores or places to buy groceries, and cabbies always take the wrong exit after the Williamsburg Bridge.

(the building on the left is occupied by exclusively hassidic families. on the right? who knows...)

One thing I love about my block is Vince's auto repair shop. I don't know who Vince is, but he must be pretty good since there are always cool old cars around, like this lil' guy parked across the street from my place. If puppies had an automobile equivalent, it would be this Porsche.

(it barely came up past my waist.)

Another thing I love about the 'hood are Dressler's onion rings. It's an all-around solid restaurant, with fancy yet not too ridiculously priced food and stunningly beautiful yet subtly quirky decor, but oh my fucking god the onion rings... For $5 you get two stacks of rings, each about eight inches high. The outside is light and crispy (the secret, I learned recently, is tempura batter) and the onions themselves aren't overcooked and soggy so the whole thing doesn't get pulled out when you take a bite. And I'm not a big cocktail person, but Dressler's are perfectly balanced (i.e., more booze, less sugar) and wash those rings right down.

(the aftermath...i wasn't thinking about pictures with those gifts from heaven in front of me)

Thursday, January 18, 2007

gap's "reverse fit" should be illegal

Is it just me, or has Saturday Night Live maybe gotten kinda good again? It probably is just me, considering I don't watch TV (and I say that not in the "I don't watch TV and am therefore better than you" sense, but in the "I don't watch TV because I live in an illegal basement apartment and cannot furnish Time Warner with a copy of my lease as I don't actually have a lease and they won't hook me up without proof that I live there since the last resident was delinquent and owes them almost $1,000" sense) and haven't seen an episode of Saturday Night Live in years. Nevertheless, "Dick in a Box" renewed my faith in humanity, and "Mom Jeans" made me want to kiss my new $39 Uniqlos. I spent the entirety of my teenage years telling myself I would never have my mother's body. Now, of course, I totally have my mother's body. If only I'd realized it was all in the jeans...

Sunday, January 07, 2007

dispatches from the front lines

The latest news from the Most Over-Qualified Target Employee Ever:
Today I had my 90-day performance review at Target. I scored "below expectations" in the "fast, fun, and friendly service" category. Just thought you should know.

Although, just for the record, I am 99.9% sure I'm the fastest cashier they have.

I have no doubt. Keep up the good work, Sis!

Ellen reports that a pair of tickets for one of the five sold-out upcoming Arcade Fire shows in NYC sold for $1,525.00 on Ebay. That's one thousand, five hundred, and twenty five dollars. For two tickets. To one show. By a nice little indie band from Canada. I have officially lost all faith in humanity.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

i tried to nap but the cat woke me up

So 2006 went out with a big drunken bang--the only way it should have, really. Having spent the days prior to December 31st working full-time at both jobs, drinking too much and sleeping too little, I was already operating at about 62% when I arrived for the internship at 11am. Thanks to unlimited coffee and free lunch, I managed to remain conscious until 6pm, time to head to the restaurant. Actually, it wasn't time to head to the restaurant just yet, but if not for those two beers at my favorite new LES bar, I might just have jumped in front of an SUV full of guidos before my closing shift.

The night progressed as I imagined it would. We were so busy before midnight that I was too preoccupied to notice how absurdly exhausted I was, and we were so slow after midnight that I was able to drink enough wine to keep me from noticing how absurdly exhausted I was. By closing time the bartender, the manager, and I were completely and utterly hammered. Time to do the closing work! It was around this time that I blacked out, but from what I hear we were a special bunch, indeed. Apparently, it took me two and a half hours to do the math-intensive paperwork, my manager pretended to hit me on the head with a chair and actually hit me on the head with a chair, the bartender passed out face down in the cash drawer, I fell up the stairs, and I fell down the stairs. The wine director, who was stuck there even later than we were semi-soberly taking inventory and stocking bottles, said I made his night. I am nothing if not eager to please.

I spent the next two days sleeping, napping, drinking lots of water, and working just a couple short shifts at the restaurant. It's now day three of 2007, and I've pretty much blown my wad on New Year's resolutions. This morning I started my day at 8am. Granted, the only reason I did so is because after I woke up at 7:30 to get a drink of water, my daydreaming about the 20-year-old busboy I have a crush on and the beautiful life we'll certainly have together was interrupted by the sound of the cat scratching in the litter box. Only he wasn't in the litter box. He was in my brand new suitcase that I had yet to unpack after returning from Wisconsin a week ago. The combination of my anger over the incident, a clear and sober head, and extreme hunger due to an attempt to reduce my calorie intake to somewhere around that of a male Olympic athlete overcame my desire to return to bed.

It is currently not even noon, a good hour before I usually wake up, and I've already accomplished the following:
- cleaned the cat pee out of my brand new suitcase
- unpacked the suitcase and cleaned/threw away pee-covered items as necessary
- put away all the clothes, shoes, books, DVDs, and assorted other crap lying all over my apartment
- threw out a couple weeks' worth of the New York Times
- changed the litter box
- took out the trash
- finished two-thirds of the Wednesday crossword puzzle
- read the "Dining Out" section
- deposited my rent check at the local HSBC per my super's somewhat ridiculous request
- bought a new shower head for the shared bathroom since the old one blew off and smacked me in the head the last time I attempted to shower
- took a shower
- shaved my legs (!!)
- did two loads of laundry
- washed the dishes
- dusted all dusty surfaces
- swept the floors
- vacuumed the rugs
- Dust-Busted the futon
- blowdried my hair
- painted my fingernails

For the remainder of the day, I plan to head to UPS to mail some things, the pet store to buy some cat food, the drugstore for toiletries, the internet cafe to email some thank you notes and pay for something I bought on eBay (I'm writing this from home on good ol' Microsoft Word), and the yoga studio to pick up a schedule. Either all of that or a long fucking nap. Stupid cat.