Spotted in the Union Square subway stop: Joe Pera, hero amongst men. Not only is this the first of many subway artists to be featured on this blog but Joe will also go down in New York fanblogging history as the first ever recipient of the Gentleman & Socialite award. Yeah, this blog does awards now. And yeah, I'm sorry Spaghetti Cat but this time it's going to Joe.
Seems relatively straight-forward I know. But Joe has the noble spirit of Alexander Hamilton and the comedic timing of Michael Cera. Sounds delightful doesn't it? Sorry, don't click that one if you're short on time. Click this one and see for yourself why Joe deserves this dubious honor. And if you only have 20 more seconds to live just skip ahead 1 min 20 secs into that video.
So Joe, I'm sure you're busy with the whole standing-by-the-L-train-showing-off-the-"It's true I'm wealthy"-book-cover-you-designed-with-your-face-on-it-to-pick-up-the-ladies-thing but if you ever want to come to a party and pick up your award it will be waiting for you.
Yes, 12 loyal readers of this blog, physical G&S awards will be produced and given out. Feel free to send in nominations. If you want to see Joe do his thing check out his upcoming performance.
Spaghetti Cat, I am so sorry I had to tell you about the award this way. I weep for you.
New York is overflowing with sea...sailors. Sorry about that. Seriously, these fine men and women of the sea swamped the city last week. And boy did they pull tail. To get down to the bottom of this phenomenon I sat down with NYC sailing expert Marina K for an in-depth interview.
NYiR: So Marina, in your expert opinion, what is it about sailors that make them so successful with the ladies? Marina K: They are wearing costumes.
That gets to the heart of it. For more analysis I took aside one of the sailors to ask him some very pointed questions while Marina blushed into her $4 top shelf scotch (Blue & Gold on e. 7th - more info about that to be posted soon).
NYiR: Now you sir are a sailor are you not? Drunken Sailor: Oh yeah I am! Fleet week! NYiR: Indeed. How many times do you dock and have these sorts of weeks? DS: I usually get three, maybe four a year. NYiR: And the ladies seem to enjoy your uniform. I imagine, and please correct me if I'm wrong, but does that mean that during a week such as this you would go home with many women? DS: You see that booth over there? (pointing to from whence he came) I could take home any one of those four girls. All I've got to do is put my hat on them and they melt. NYiR: That is indeed a fancy trick. And it works? DS: Every time.
So ladies (and I imagine this goes for gentlemen too) - go do your country proud and get a sailor to loan you their hat. You too can melt! To everyone who has worn the hat this week in NYC, consider yourself saluted.
Oh, and a hot tip for anyone thinking about just renting a costume to get laid: it doesn't always work.
The Box looks pretty classy right? It is if you define classy as an odd mix of $17 cocktails, burlesque, and cocaine. Which I do. On Gossip Girl it's owned by this guy which automatically makes it cool. But still, The Box is ridiculous! Here is a fun quiz to illustrate:
Which one of these things have I NOT seen at The Box: A) A transexual picking up a bottle with her ass B) Two women wearing Bert and Ernie heads making love to one another with a double-sided dildo C) Ed Westwick
I hope you picked all of the above because that is true. Yes the pretend Box owner visits the real Box and I'm visiting the Box because I pretended to be someone famous in order to drink $17 drinks. Once again, a sign that art imitates life imitating me.
It is a very fun place to go though. The shows are wild and all but if you're in a more intimate mood swing a right at the top of the stairs and you'll find yourself in a curtained room that features your very own stripper pole. Did you know that those poles rotate? That's how all those neat lil tricks get done.
Here's a video from the Box that'll make you either 100% sure that you want to go or want it to close down immediately. My apologies for the bad link before - the previously linked to video was taken down because of "infringement" which probably means it was infringing on people's sensibilities. This one is much more tasteful.
First off, you are loud. Not even cool loud. Annoying loud. Here I am trying to enjoy brunch and you come strolling in on your stroller and because you don't get a window seat you feel like you've got to cry about it. You came here in a stroller! That's the modern day palanquin and only goddess babies should be riding those. So why are you crying? Life isn't so hard on you.
You're crying because you just took a poop. And you want everyone to know. I'm trying to eat one-year-old. I love brunch and you ruined it. You took a shit and started wailing so your mom takes you out of your stroller and starts changing you IN THE BOOTH. That means your poop is not only in my direct line of sight it is where I sometimes sit. I don't even blame your mom though because she just wanted you to shut up. Almost as much as I did.
Secondly, you're not as cute as everyone says you are. I see your little wrinkly arms and legs. They make you look like a carrot. I don't know which NYC modeling gig you're trying to get baby but all that coke and anorexia is not good for you. I would focus on that SAT prep your parents keep pushing on you instead. I hear it's taught by Leonardo of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Third, you smell.
In conclusion, call me when you're turning two. We can have a party to celebrate the end of your wretchedness. I know a good magician for it. In the meantime, don't come to brunch. Brunch is sacred in New York.
Sincerely, NYiR
For more information on how babies can ruin your day click here.
The weekend is coming up so I thought it would be a good idea to write about how MoMa (the Museum of Monkey Art you unsophisticated person you) has free admission every Friday. However, don't get all excited by that link to the museum. You're not really going to see boobs.
In fact the only type of art that MoMa features on Fridays looks like the brilliant piece above. That doesn't look special to you? You think you could have made it? Here, get closer to it:
You don't get it? Geez. Take an art class. Let's get right up in front of it:
Now you get it right? Of course you do. It's awesome. So check out MoMa. But don't expect boobs.
This hipster made my blog cry. Not me, my blog. And it is made of magic and computer parts I think. The fact that it can cry and me, who is 6590% water, did not is surprising and is probably only because I'm also laughing. And everyone knows the only guy who previously ever was caught doing both was this jerk. That baby is the perfect precursor for a very long rant about how one-year-olds suck at life. Deep breath. Not now. Soon.
Anyway this picture came from look at this fucking hipster which is a very very funny site and will now be added to the ridiculous links section of this site. The caption for the photo featured above was, "The reason I love New York is because it’s the only place where a white person like me can dress this way and not get his ass beat." Very true.
I think all of the pics on this site are from NYC so consider yourself saluted lookatthisfuckinghipster: you are doing your city proud. And I hope your name is KiCCC. Or that you like sock porn.
Ok I will admit it did not take much coaxing from my girlfriend to start watching this show. The ridiculous thing about it though is that while it's all nice and good to enjoy seeing teenagers get drunk and sleep around and stab each other in the back (VANESSA) the real joy comes from the fact that the whole thing takes place on the Upper East Side.
These rich teens hang out at The Box and go to Socialista and have lunch on the steps of the Metropolitan. So that's fun. Because I do those things too.
And get this: the real life cast members do those things as well. Talk about art imitating life imitating silly television shows imitating me! This means I (and other people I know) have run into the cast a trabillion times.
Never the right ones at the right time though. I think the only one I really wanna meet is Leighton Mouseters. No relation to this douchebag. That would be more like art imitating lameness incarnate imitating this dog. Or this one (j/k V! call u l8r).
Here's some do's and don't's for all you romantics out there, learned from the show.
Chinatown is exciting. You can walk all around and feel crowded and have people offer you Rolez watches at a very decent price. While I don't like to spend much time there I do appreciate the fact that you can pick up all sorts of great buys. I wanted to pick up something with bows so I dropped by the one-stop shopping plaza pictured above looking for either an annoying barking dog or an annoying blonde doll. Then I looked carefully and saw this:
Now I like turtles as much as the next zombie but let's face it these guys are a disaster waiting to happen. That one on the far left is clearly about to knock the bowl over sending him and three of his friends into the sewer where they will be covered by ooze and turn into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Then all of a sudden there will be a pizza shortage and all these other weaker ninjas will get beaten up all the time. I don't need that in my neighborhood, so thanks but no thanks Chinatown. Keep your turtles where they belong. Wherever that is.
However, since I doubt Chinatown reads my blog I have decided to make the best of the situation. Michaelangelo (the turtle clearly mooning the camera above) is a party dude so I've begun to look forward to hanging out with him. I've done a quick sketch so you will know which one he is and can introduce yourself to him at my next big party.
It's impossible to be bored searching for an apartment in New York City. That is, if you're like 13,205,234,835% of the people who deem craigslist the most effective way to get one. The attention grabbing headlines on craiglist.org are pretty great.
Yes my real estate devil worshiping friend Jennifer Aniston is still very very hot at age 40-99. But would I like to live inside her for more than a day or two? Debatable. How about saying things like, "This apartment is spacious and while on a 5th floor walk up it's got one small window from which you can see the L train ride by?" I may not click but I appreciate your honesty.
For anyone in the market, by the by, here is one good option.
I just came back from a two month stint in Japan. Yes they do many ridiculous things themselves but the thing that baffled me the most was the number of touristy photos they would go out of their way to take. I went to Disney Sea in Tokyo (awesome, thanks for asking) and the longest line was to take a photograph with Mickey Mouse. And let's face it, Mickey's a doucebag. And hangs out with douchebags.
I've done extensive statistical analysis* and apparently New York City is the number one tourist spot for Japanese citizens ages 2-death. I imagine this statistic takes into account that one-year-olds are prejudiced assholes worldwide, but that's another post for another time.
Think about going all the way to Disney Sea (still awesome, FYI) and the one thing you really want to do is get a shot with Mickey Mouse. Now think of how much bigger the Statue of Liberty is then Mickey. At least twice as big right? Maybe even three times. So the lines there are probably two, three times as long because of Japanese tourists taking photographs. I wouldn't know about that personally; I don't think self-respecting New Yorkers go there unless they have someone from Japan to go with.
I get the going to major tourist sites though. That's all fine and good. Plus I believe every out-of-towner should have a photo of the Statue of Liberty because if you don't acknowledge Ellis Island then you're not acknowledging how all of our last names got messed up and that's just bigoted. I mean, who are you? A one year old (I should probably post something about them soon)?
Here is the mind boggling thing: Japanese tourists will take a photo of anything. I don't know what they are trying to prove. Will your friends back home not believe you rode on a subway? That you ate a meal in a restaurant? That you stood next to a tree in a park? I guess they don't have those things in Japan. Oh wait, you sort of do only it's not as cool as our's.
I can't fault the couple pictured above though. Those ceramic hats are too damn inviting. The MTA should just tile "Take photos here" in Japanese and get it over with.
* I have never done nor know how to do statistical analysis. In fact I'm not sure I even know what that means.
The subway system in this city is amazing. You know how I know that? Because New Yorkers won't shut up about it. When you go to meet a friend at a bar the first question they will ask you is, "What subway did you take?" It doesn't matter if your grandmother was just run over by a reindeer they will ask about the subway. This is a relief because then you can have a great conversation all about whether it was the best way to go, which stop is closest to where, and other boring things that make you feel like you have something in common. Thank you MTA for giving match.com dates something to bond over.
Obviously I could just post the picture above and let it speak for itself. However, since I'm going to a party tonight that features the brilliant (?) Nate Hill in his dolphin suit I thought I'd share with you Club Animals.
Keep your eyes open for Nate and his two confederates (pictured below) and score yourself some free food or a bouncy ride.
I'm definitely in for the Human Petting Zoo in June. Who's with me? And who's riding the L train on May 14th?
To start the greatest masterpiece of all internet New York fan-literature ever I have to touch on a subject that has effected almost everyone who has, does, or ever will live in New York City: realtor fees.
Getting an apartment in New York City can be exhausting. First there’s the mental exhaustion of looking at 132,435,321 places online. Then when you narrow it down to 5 places you want to see it becomes 10 because every realtor has one more place that is “just a few blocks away” that is smaller, darker, dustier, yet supposedly more like what I described to them.
So after weeks of preparation I end up wandering around in circles all over the city because some real estate agent just thought of one more place to show me that I'd absolutely love that's on the other side of some park. Cool. It's like a free guided tour of bad neighborhoods. Plus I don't have to go for a run for a week because I've just walked the New York Marathon.
But then, just when I’ve given up all hope, I find the apartment. Of course it’s more then I want to spend but it’s across the street from one I saw 12 hours earlier which is exactly where I want to be right? That loud humming noise coming from the restaurant downstairs? It’s like the realtor is saving me from buying my own noise machine to lull me to sleep each night. Fine, I’m exhausted, it seems like it’s a good place in a good location. I tell the realtor I’m in.
Now, I've looked at apartments before. I know the deal. My friends in California told me their realtors want 2-3%. But we’re on the East Coast; 5-7% is a bi hefty but if that’s what it takes…
As we approached the realtor office I began to think about the worst case scenario: one month's rent. Ok. I will figure out a way to do that. The realtor probably has little demon children to feed whose tails are growing more out of their pants every day (is that vaguely sexual? didn't mean it to be).
So imagine my surprise when I heard 15%. Fifteen percent!?!? Of an entire year! Are we having a funny moment? Am I supposed to laugh? 'Cause I'm giggling like a maniac. I can’t control myself.
Now I've watched too much dramatic television to not try to play some good cop/bad cop. I turn to my potential roommate who is looking rather pale and say, "We're not paying that." Pretending to appease me she slips into moderator mode. "Can I see your calculator?" she says. The realtor, who frankly couldn't give a shit about my theatrics and is playing with her blackberry, slides it over. The roommate presses random buttons for five minutes of uncomfortable silence before saying, "What about one month's rent?" And so the game begins.
The realtor shakes her head no. Angels cry and flames roar up from below warming my feet. Some back and forth. "This is silly," says I and make to get my coat. The realtor looks at me wondering if I'm really going to walk out. Maybe I am realtor, look into my soul with your demon eyes and see for yourself. Before my head explodes the roommate comes up with a counter proposal that works for Satan's minion: 10%.
Sure I have to call my mom and she has to offer them her first-born child but at least that first born child has an oddly shaped room in a New York City apartment now. And thus I was introduced to how ridiculous New York can be.
See something? Say something! Any topics that you think ought to be covered on this blog will be considered for way too long and agonized about intensely. Most of them will be used. E-mail 'em over.
Send this delightful waste of time on to your friends. And tell them to tell their friends. If they have any. Which they may not considering they're friends with you. Is that too mean? I am sorry.
Spotted in the Union Square subway stop: Joe Pera, hero amongst men. Not only is this the first of many subway artists to be featured on this blog but Joe will also go down in New York fanblogging history as the first ever recipient of the Gentleman & Socialite award. Yeah, this blog does awards now. And yeah, I'm sorry Spaghetti Cat but this time it's going to Joe.
Seems relatively straight-forward I know. But Joe has the noble spirit of Alexander Hamilton and the comedic timing of Michael Cera. Sounds delightful doesn't it? Sorry, don't click that one if you're short on time. Click this one and see for yourself why Joe deserves this dubious honor. And if you only have 20 more seconds to live just skip ahead 1 min 20 secs into that video.
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