Union Hall Bocce League

As you can see above the authors of this blog (Ian and Lodro) take bocce ball at Union Hall very seriously. Seriously for us though means that it holds our attention for twenty minutes and then we get distracted and go to Chuck E. Cheese or something equally catering to our ADHD dynamic. However, the bocce ball league games get pretty intense at Union Hall and some people take it seriously for real.

Once a week we all gather and throw our blue balls near the white ball and get points and high five one another and pretend that we are participating in a real sports league. We sometimes even get out the tape measure in order to see whose ball is closest to what. Does that sound vaguely sexual? I can't even tell anymore. Because as co-team captain of LETHAL ELEGANCE (don't like the name? then suggest something) I have to take this game as seriously as is expected of me. Here, look:

No, not at the pretty girl (hi Lora! thanks for being a cover for this totally covert picture!). Look at the referee. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, when your bocce team perseveres for countless drunken battles and you claw your way into the finals you get a real live referee to complain to when the obnoxious tape measuring of your balls is not enough. I wouldn't know since we came in last place in the league last year but this year we will triumph and I will get in this guy's face and scream and kick the green dusty make up of the court and wave my hands in the air. Like Bo from this We Like Sportz rip-off. Speaking thereof who's in for a Monday night game? I think we need a fourth.

Michael Jackson Tributes

It is indeed a time for the great city of New York to mourn. First off who doesn't love Farrah Fawcett? Bachelor number two does. He wants to make love the national past-time! And then there is the death of Michael Jackson. Oh MJ. Oh oh oh MJ. This is indeed a national tragedy.

However, Michael Jackson lives on in New York City. For one, beginning yesterday at 4:00 PM you couldn't walk down the street without some car blaring "Billie Jean." Also, if you gather a large enough crowd and attempt to invoke him he will come to you, take over your body, and make you dance. As is witnessed at the gathering outside the Apollo last night (1:20 into the video above).

Last but not least, while the Flying Man may have been the big hit of last summer NYiR predicts that in 2009 the summer dance will be..........the moonwalk. Yes, it is coming back. You will see it at all the clubs and your friend will turn to you and you will catch his eye and shake your head and he will say "It was too soon" and you will both think "Well, maybe before all those pedophile rumors would have been better" and then you will respond, "Yeah. Too too soon."

Goodbye MJ. New York loves you.

Gallery shows

If you move to New York City and have a friend or the capacity to make a friend you will undoubtedly be invited to an art gallery show within your first week. You might get all excited. You might say, "Yeah! This is why I moved to this city. To be in the hub of culture and art!" And you, my friend, are in for a treat.

Here are some things I have learned in my short time in New York City:

1) The art community does not need to eat or sleep. They just live off of Charlie Shaw wine.
2) Don't ask what the theme of the show will be. You will never understand.
3) If it is a photo exhibit the work reflects the effect globalization has had on migrant workers in Alaska. Yet somehow each photo was shot at Coney Island or Central Park...
4) ...unless the artist owns a backpack in which case avoid the room that has seats in it because there will be a slide show.
5) Do not be surprised if you leave the gallery saying, "Maybe I should do some art. I could do some cool stuff like that!" Everyone else left and thought the same thing. Yet after going to one of these shows a week you become glad you never acted on the impulse.

With all of that said some gallery shows can be fun and once in a blue moon you find a piece that actually moves you. Like the in-depth commentary about underwear above. I think it was done by Japanese tourists though.

This guy

This guy...he was in Union Square. So...wow. Here, take a closer look:


I mean, sure, be a panda. Cool. Be unusually short. That's your thing. But why the gloves? Are your hands really that big? Can you not grip bamboo with your normal paws? Anyone have a clue as to what this guy is about? Anyone? Anyone?

Ian

Ladies and gentleman and more ladies I am pleased to announce that Ian has graciously joined the prestigious ranks of authors of this blog. You may recognize him from such posts as following the bouncy dolphin

and Long Island. Please join me in warmly welcoming him.

Long Island

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Long Island Wants to Secede
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Jason Jones in Iran

Big news: Long Island finally wants to succeed at something. Wait, what's that? Oh, they want to secede. Well, that's big news too.

Now I have to admit as a newbie in New York City I haven't entirely pieced together what Long Island is. I think part of it exists at Libation, part of it exists in Italian men in a super tight v-necks, and the rests exists in a land of ridicule created by New Yorkers. Is that right? According to the video above though they seem to be the dicks of NYC and want to beat up New Jersey or Ireland, whichever is closer.

I don't have many Italian man friends in super tight v-necks so in order to explore Long Island I went to Libation one night with my friend Ian (hi Ian! thanks for taking care of my dog!). We met some young ladies who admitted to being "bridge and tunnel" girls. At first I thought that was a sexual thing but since they were all 24 and married I assumed it refers to their eating habits or something.

I'll leave you with a koan: why is Long Island undesirable to live in yet a desirable location to vacation? Someone has to explain that to me. I just don't get you Long Island. Good luck on secession, assuming you exist.

The Metropolitan Museum of Fine Art and Dominican habits

Because the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Art spans three miles over New York City and is ripe for ridicule I've decided this is the first of many posts related to the fine museum. Today we will go in depth with Paul Cezanne's "Dominique Aubert, the Artist's Uncle, as a Monk."

Get this world: Cezanne couldn't find a real live monk so he calls up his uncle to play the part. Now imagine me saying this in my French accent which sounds distinctly like a Jamaican accent: Cezanne's all like, "Uncle Dominique, I'm gonna make you famous mon." Uncle Dominique gets all psyched because he knows that one day he'll be hanging in the Met. He's like, "Awesome, I'll be right over mon."

Dominique gets there and Cezanne's like, "Listen...I need you to play dress up for me." Then, according to the little plaque alongside this portrait, Dominique Aubert "posed in a Dominican habit." Dominique, have you ever even seen a Dominican before? Their habits include smoking cigars, lounging on the beach, and drinking Presidente. They do not include being all pissed off!

Why are you so bummed out anyway? Is it because you thought you were going to be famous for being you but instead had to dress up to be someone? Or is it because you're worried about your rent stabilized situation on the Upper East Side? Or is it because you're immortally stuck indoors during the Dominican Day Parade? I'm gonna go ahead and assume it's the parade. Good luck with that. I'll pour some Brugal out for you in August.

Veniero's

Despite what it sounds like Veniero's is not an Italian STD clinic. It is a bakery that sells cannolis that are delicious and cost $1. Yes. $1. At this price even my new friend from Blue & Gold can afford it. I would marry canolis if I could. It would be the only wedding I would have in my whole life and my hair would be ruined!

In other news I need a vacation and so I'm going AFK (LOL!) for a while and as a result this blog may suffer. I'll post when I can but normal three times a week fanblogging will resume on the 21st. So don't freak out.

Barracuda

My friend Jerry (hi Jerry!) took me to this really great spot in Chelsea last week called Barracuda. You wouldn't know it's called that because there's no sign anywhere but somehow all these fellows seemed to find it.

It's interesting - it doesn't say it's a gentlemen's establishment but its primary populace is definitely well-dressed men! They are all so chummy here it makes you feel right at home. Guys are buying other guys drinks, holding each other's hands, dancing with each other...everyone is having such a nice time it just makes you feel so...happy!

The decor is great. It's all like:


I mean that just screams "men being men" doesn't it? So there we were sipping some margaritas and then out of nowhere comes Britney Houston!!!!!!!!!!1 Sorry I was so excited I let go of the shift key too soon. Anyway Britney is pictured above with her male admirers. In fact, all the fellas in the place got very excited when this woman got on stage. Sure her face is a bit unconventional for a lady, she doesn't really have women's hips, and she somehow has an adams apple but boy can this young lady dance and lipsync to Janet Jackson and Lady Gaga.

So gentlemen if you are looking for a good time and want to meet other guys who will be super friendly to you then come to Barracuda. Drinks are good, the entertainment's excellent, and the only downside is some silly rule that you can't go the restroom with your friends.

Da da da dummmm: we have superheroes!

New York City is ripe with real-life superheroes. Not just one but multiple heroes. I am overwhelmed with excitement.

I am all for the noble citizens of our fair city stepping beyond their comfort level to be of benefit to their communities. But costumes and monikers? Really? No, no...really? Let's review: most of these heroes go out and feed the homeless and tell drug dealers that they need to leave their park alone (or else they'll call the cops). I admire that. I really do. But seriously, do I need to dress up like the Dark Guardian (above) to give a dollar to the Vietnam vet on my corner? No. And I'm not about to create a persona and a myspace page to let other people know I do that. I'll just tell you on this blog in a back-handed way.

The Dark Guardian often goes off into the dark and scary night to feed the homeless with his trusted partner Life by his side. Life? Ok. Dress up is fun sometimes (take note ladies of New York). But these names: you named yourself after a cereal? You have to realize you're setting yourself up to face such arch-enemies as Captain Crunch and Count Chocula. And frankly Life, my money's on them.

I have to admit I haven't seen any of these superheroes personally. Actually, maybe this one. I think I've seen him every time I'm stuck in traffic. But that seems like it's more of a hero for hire sort of thing. And that his main nemesis is that gross bug I hit while driving upstate.

My favorite of all of our local heroes is Terrifica. Terrifica roams the night protecting da ladiezzz from getting drunk and making bad decisions. Bad decisions Terrifica? Look in the mirror and let's talk about your outfit. Here's an excerpt from an interview with Terrifica:

"To feel like you have to go to a bar, to put yourself out there, feeling like you have worth only when you're married, engaged, or have a boyfriend, that's weakness," Terrifica says. "People are happiest when they're alone and living their solitary lives."

So there you have it ladies and gentlemen: if you want go grow old with cats let Terrifica save you from yourself. I do admire you, heroes and heroines of the night: it wouldn't be New York if people didn't dress outrageously and insist on letting me know what's best for me. You are what this blog was created for because, in every sense of the word, you are ridiculous. And let's face it: I'm a little jealous.

Blue & Gold

Scotch. I love the smell. I love the taste. I even love its eighties sound. But in New York City if you want to go out for a glass of good scotch you have to assume you're going to drop an Andrew Jackson or two. Not so at the Blue & Gold Tavern (79 E. 7th St). For $4 you can take your pick of Laphroaig, Macallan, or any of the greats. $4! At these prices anyone can afford to get drunk.

Yes I admit this is a dive bar. Sorry cast of Gossip Girl it is not your scene. The clientele can be a bit iffy at times. On the plus side there's a pool table, a decent juke box, and shot and beer specials such as the Dirty Hipster (Jager and PBR). I can drink and make fun of hipsters at the same time? That is oh so good.

You get four stars Blue & Gold. I will see you tonight. I'll be the guy drinking your cheap beautiful scotch by the jukebox getting hustled at pool by the drunk cat and playing Hanson's "Mmmbop" on repeat.

Young Orthodox Girls (YOGs)

If you live in New York you know that a few times a year you will be cruising through your day, thinking about how you like sportz and you'll be rudely interrupted by a Lubavitch Jew who will be all like, "Excuse me, are you Jewish?" Of course, that will only happen if you're a 6'7" African American Christian that does not remotely look Jewish. Because that's how they roll.

After years of going up to individuals and asking them if they are Jewish maybe these Hasidic chaps might have honed their craft a bit considering there are 6,682,139 Jews in this city. Maybe, just maybe they could spot a Jew if he walked by them and let slip an "Oy gevalt. This weather!" But no.

I live in Brooklyn and ethnically speaking I'm one of the 2,359,578 Jews roaming this borough. I'm used to older Jewish gentlemen approaching people on the street trying to identify fellow Jews and get them to temple. I'm also getting used to being ignored by them. No matter how Jewish I try to make myself look I get no attention. And I look Jewish! Now that's a big piece of cake to swallow.

And get this: the other day a fresh squad hit the streets (above). Dear 14-year-old girls, you're a bit young to be trying to find that ideal mate. Stop asking everyone except me if they're Jewish! It's like you're trying to kill two gefilte fish with one matzo ball with this whole raising awareness of the faith and your perpetual desperation. Go on Jdate like every celebrity who can't get some loving. You are so ridiculous that you have earned your own epithet: YOGs (Young Orthodox Girls). Ladies and gentlemen, you heard it here first.

But seriously, what is it Lubavitches? Is it because I look Jewish and it would be too obvious to talk to me? Am I too intimidating to you? Is it because I've been working out hardcore? Or because you're worried I might engage you in a debate? In any case I'm sick and tired of being ignored YOGs. Come hang out with me.