Happy Easter, Peeps

Peep Show from the Washington Post
Via the L Magazine

Gross.

Spotted this ad at the gym today. An eggy martini with specks of god-knows-what suspended in its gooey mixture. That's the kind of shit you pay some dumb kid five bucks to drink when you're like eight years old. Yuck.

I think it is a safe bet to say that if you wear shoes made from reindeer skin, you won't get any Christmas presents.

If you wanted to experiment and see, you could order them here, but I don't recommend it.

Via Stylephile

I'm fascinated by this hotel room's walls.

Hotel Particulier, Montmartre
Via Oh Joy!

Shock and Awe: Total Assholes Hang Out in Midtown on Friday Nights

Friday evening I'm leaving work around 8 p.m., headed to the subway to go downtown and meet some friends. I'm walking west on 40th Street, but the sidewalk is totally blocked by about eight people who are in some little friend circle/huddle. Some are smoking, some are just yakking. Whatever. Not wanting to interrupt, I notice a sliver of free space—between a man with a cigarette and the scaffolding rail—and decide to pass there. As I pass by him, he swings his hand out with his cigarette (I suppose he was gesturing to make the point of a story). Out of shock at nearly having someone's cigarette land in my eye, I simply said, "Hey, watch it" and walked on by.

To be honest, I used to be the kind of person who would have said, "Hey, fuck you, what was that?" But I've learned that's not exactly the best coping method (Hey, Maturity!) and I just feel like it's better to try and be positive and make the world a nicer place as opposed to being mean. Anyhow. I say something like "Hey, watch it" and keep walking and I'm about five feet away when I hear, "Get out of here, you stupid bitch."

Well! Without thinking, I spin around and just stare at this guy. I mean, after all, what was his problem? He almost burned my eye out and I'm the one in the wrong? So, being my new nice self, I think I say something like: "Why would you say that? I was just trying to get by and..."

This is when he runs over to me with his lit cigarette and starts jabbing it in my face, back and forth, just millimeters away from my nose, cheeks, eyes. He is screaming: "Oh, you think I did that on purpose?! Now I'm doing it on purpose!" He's too close for me to turn around and run; he's right up on me. All I can do is take steps back, but with each one I take back, he takes one closer and jabs his cigarette in a new place. This probably went on for all of five seconds, but it seemed to be more like a minute, at least. To be honest, it was terrifying and I was really worried he was going to burn me.

Finally, one of this guy's friends had the decency to say: "C'mon, leave her alone." Still, he said it rather lackadaisically, I thought. Cigarette guy dropped his cigarette and walked away, back to his friends. I think I was shocked cause I just stood there for a second. I said: "My god, what's wrong with you?" One of his girl friends said to me: "Just leave him alone!"

Whaa? Me leave him alone? Then the cigarette man turned back around to me and said, "Yeah, get out of here with your fake Louis Vuitton bag." And at that point, I know that I REALLY should have started walking, but I was just really bothered that this dude apparently doesn't know what a Louis Vuitton bag looks like. They're brown and have those little gold emblems (I'm not really a fan), and my bag is this freaking huge, white, slouchy thing that I got at Urban Outfitters for like $50. It might be cheap, but it isn't a fake. So I said: "This isn't fake Louis Vuitton. It's cheap Urban Outfitters."

Which I realize might have been kind of annoying, but I have this thing with accuracy. And then I left.

I have a friend who claims that the fake Louis Vuitton line is a Jay-Z lyric. I don't know it.

I know I should have just walked away in the first place, but I just don't get people like that. Like if he had said sorry in the first place, and then I would have said, no problem, have a good night! And wouldn't everyone have been happier?

Wednesday Afternoon in an Elevator: A Play in One Short Act

I get into the elevator in my office building. There is already another gal in there. She is pretty, petite, well-dressed.

Her: Oh, do you work on 13?
Me: Yeah, I'm in research. Freelance.
Her: I'm K, the fashion editor.
Me: Oh, good to meet you!
Her: You, too. I never meet people on the other side of the room.
Me: Me, neither.
Her: So I should have some fashion stuff for you soon!

Please keep in mind that there are always free books and DVDs and such at magazines, and I sit right next to the "free" pile, so I somehow thought that she meant FREE FASHION STUFF! Woo hoo! That's why I said:

Me: No way, are you serious?!

She probably never heard anyone so excited about work.

Her: Yeah, it's totally late.

This is when I realize that she's totally talking about COPY not free stuff.

Me: Oh, no, I don't think it's late, I think it's ... (you know how you start to babble when you're embarrassed and trying to cover your tracks? Oh ...)

London Has a Williamsburg

OK, really it's a Bushwick! It's called Hackney.

Artists, designers and young bohemians in ever-skinnier jeans are getting priced out of nearby Shoreditch, and opening bars, clubs and galleries in this gritty immigrant enclave.

The funny thing is that this article was written by Joshua David Stein, yeah, that guy, who used to write for Gawker, and this article really seems the kind of thing that Gawker would have said Ha! about. And then made fun of the Times for picking up on a trend like five years late.

I mean, maybe not—maybe Hackney really is hoppin', hell if I know. But I do know that this is about the lamest, sappiest story ending ever:

During a recent Sunday night jam session, nearly 25 musicians crowded into the space. A dreadlocked African man played the djembe, an African drum, accompanied by a tall, bearded Englishman on trumpet. And they were in perfect harmony.

New Home for Arts Refugees

I look like hell today.

Last night I witnessed someone take four pregnancy tests (all negative!), drank way too much Champagne, formed a human pyramid with five other people, and ended up at a bar table next to the Olsen twins and that dude from Superbad who looks like Seth Rogen but isn't.

Intro to Nature & Its Positive Emotional Benefits

I had the best Sunday afternoon wandering around the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I went to see Daffodil Hill, which supposedly blooms in March. Well, that was a crock. But! The rest of the grounds were lovely, practically deserted, and a quite peaceful way to spend one's Sunday. My favorite spot was the wooden deck by the Japanese garden. If you sit on the bench and glance down at the water, you'll see dozens of huge fish, all orange, silver, white. My brother once told me that when he had a large aquarium, he found fish-watching relaxing; I dismissed his comment at the time, but he's right: It's oddly calming. There were also lots of interesting trees, if you're into that sort of thing. In the conservatory, I was excited to find red mangrove trees, which I first discovered on a dolphin-watching excursion in the Gulf of Mexico. They're beautiful in the way that they rise from the water, without any land to support them. Lots of weeping trees, too: A willow (pictured) and a beech that looked so battered with dozens of initials and hearts carved into its trunk. And one that was just plain crazy crooked. Not to mention happy squirrels with nuts!

BBG Pics on Picasa

When Children (Try To) Attack

I have always considered Fort Greene Park to be just about the safest place in the world on any given day around 2 p.m., so the story of an attempted robbery (by children!) in the middle of the day last month is sort of unexpected.

Attempted Robbery in Fort Greene Park Yesterday

Wyoming Town, Pop. 1, Gets 10 New Residents; Price of Omelets Increases

Bill, Wyoming used to have "one, two, or three residents, depending on if you counted pets," says the New York Times. Now the small town—which Google maps identifies as being at the center of Interstate 59 and Dull Center Road—has at least 11 people. Why the influx? Freight trains constantly pass through Bill and their drivers are required to stop often. So, developers decided to build a hotel and 24-hour restaurant in the small town that got its name when some goddess of literalness noted that "several area men were all called Bill." How do the freight workers/town transients feel about the new hotel and adjacent diner?

Some complain about stuffy rules at the new hotel (like having to remove one's cleats before entering!). What else? The diner prices.

Jarod Lessert, 35, a train engineer and one of Bill’s longtime transients ... adds that some of the hotel’s rules are plainly ridiculous. He also expresses shock at the prices in the diner: “Nine dollars for an omelet?”

What is this, New York?! Read on:

Actually, an omelet costs $7.99, plus tax, with meat, hash browns, toast and drink. But at least now you can have an omelet here.

Hmm, eight bucks does seem a bit pricey for the middle of nowhere in Wyoming. That almost seems what one might pay for a diner brunch in New York, perhaps sans the meat and drink. Below, a price comparison between Penny's and some NYC diners.

Penny's Diner, Bill, Wyoming: $7.99 for omelet with meat, hash browns, toast, and drink.
The New St. Clair Restaurant, Boerum Hill, Brooklyn: $5.50 for cheese omelet, home fries, toast, and drink.
New Apollo Restaurant, downtown Brooklyn: $6.10 for cheese omelet with one side (add meat for $1.50).
Diner, meatpacking district: $8.95 for omelet with fries and toast.
Tick Tock Diner, west midtown: $5.95 for cheese omelet with potatoes and toast.

Interesting, especially when, according to my sources, I could take a nearly 50 percent decrease in salary if I moved to Wyoming and still keep up the same lifestyle (ie, the barely scraping by kind ...).

Above: Photo of Bill from the Times.

These Shoes Are Not Cute At All, Ms. Portman, Not Cute At All!

As an animal lover and vegetarian (except for fish, I know, I'm so ashamed), I'm really glad that Natalie Portman came out with a vegan line of shoes. Usually vegan lines are super ugly because the designers assume that they're for crunchy girls who enjoy pigtails, granola, and long hikes in Vermont woods. God bless people like the wonderful Stella McCartney who realize that you can be animal-friendly and extremely stylish!

So, yeah, way to go, Natalie! Except: These shoes are not cute! Seriously, they look like you designed them for 23-year-olds who wear Ann Taylor suits and work administrative office jobs in Omaha. Even though the Paloma style (not the one pictured here) is sorta OK, it still has an ankle strap which makes short girls (I am raising my hand here) look even shorter! No good!

Here's hoping that Natalie's designs will continue to evolve and become more inventive, cause she's doing a good thing. And, with any luck, more designers—like Stella!—will choose to use animal-friendly materials.

'Eeeee' is the Name of a Tao Lin Book or the Uncomfortable Sound You Make When Speaking With Him

Dear Tao Lin (Who Is So Weird and Extremely Difficult to Have a Conversation With):

I went to your reading last week (or maybe it was the week before—I've been busy!) at my friend N.'s writing workshop. I was hanging out by the table with the free booze (to be opened afterward the reading) when you walked by.

Me: Hey, I think we met before.
You respond with a blank stare, like I am making this up.
Me: You know, at the reading with J. last year. We had dinner afterwards.
You respond with a blank stare, like I am making this up.
Me: Well, I mean, *we* didn't have dinner, like, together. There were other people there!
You: Where was the reading?
Me: At Galapagos.
You: I didn't eat dinner that night.
Me (now annoyed): Yes, you did! At Anytime? There were five or six of us. Around a table. With food. And J.—remember J.?

Then you asked me if there was somewhere on the table where you could sell your book. And I was like, I don't work here. Maybe after that you said something again about not eating that night after Galapagos, so maybe you meant that you were at the dinner but didn't eat. Maybe you don't remember, period. Usually if I don't remember something, I'd blame it on alcohol. But I seem to remember you saying that you don't even drink! And yet! Immediately after the reading, with all that free booze, you and your pal came up to the table, announced that you were leaving, and ASKED TO TAKE HOME A BOTTLE OF WINE! What?! Who asks that? My friend N. looked at me, and even though I have nothing to do with anything, I shook my head No. Then N. said, "You can take some beers," and your friend stuffed some beers in his backpack. I think you grabbed one or two. I don't get you. And if I see you again, I will stare down at my feet until you pass by.

Sincerely,
Lorem Ipsum

Last Night I Went to That Williamsburg 'Bowling Alley'

Why don't they just call it a waiting room and get over the false advertising? Nice bar, by the way. Great drinks, friendly bouncer, nice decor; you can check it out here. But! My friend N. got there around 8 p.m. to reserve a lane for our group. They told her there was a three-hour wait. I got there around 9:30, followed by the rest of our crew. We had a ticket (like the kind you get when you're in line at the bakery or meat counter) that said No. 29. When I arrived, the red digital number board (overhead) said 5. An hour later, it said 6. By 11 p.m., I believe it said 11, but I had been drinking all evening at this point, so my recollection becomes slightly less reliable.

The point being—there was no bowling to be had. Maybe my friends finally got to bowl. They were waiting it out when I left. I think they were on No. 20 when I walked out the door, sleepy, looking forward to home. Perhaps weeknights are a bit luckier at Gutter?

Image above of people who are not me bowling at the Gutter, from Shecky's.

The Gutter

Nothing Says 'I Love You!' Like a Dead Man Holding a Crocodile

Valentines with tattoos now available (99 cents) at the Goodwill store, corner of Bond & Livingston streets, downtown Brooklyn. Hurry up; they've only got a handful left!

File Under: Things That Are Super Cute

Bigfoot: I Not Dead by Graham Romieu
Coming from Plume, April 2008

I've only read a few pages of the advance copy I found, but it cracked me up. Can't vouch for the whole thing, and humor books (I'm not usually so much a fan) often get old after the first few pages; but even if the book doesn't rock, how can you not love the adorable cover?

Fun Conversations with My Mom

Fun Conversations with My Mom is an occasional series on Lorem Ipsum. I love my mom more than anything, but sometimes she says funny things!

Phone conversation, Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Me: Did you hear about Heath Ledger?
Mom: No!
Me: It's awful. He died. They found him in Soho.
Mom: Oh my god! That guy from the Rolling Stones?
Me: No, Heath Ledger; he was a really great actor. You would know him from Brokeback Mountain.
Mom (off phone, to friend): Do you know who Keith Ledger is?

Today in Brooklyn=Loveliest Day Ever

Even though this tree looks slightly ominous in my camera-phone picture (taken in Fort Greene Park), it really was the best day ever. Look at that cloudless sky!

Amazon.com Goes Goth for V-Day

Amazon.com is circulating an e-mail filled with Valentine's Day gift ideas. Depending on your relationship with the giftee, you can choose a colored heart to suggest a gift. There's your typical red, pink, even a pure white, and black -- cute, Amazon!

Who knew that America's best-known online bookseller was so full, of, well, hate? Click on the black heart, and you'll see gift options for that person you just love to despise. Example: A 5-inch "realistic" rat. Here are some other helpful suggestions from Amazon:

1. A book called All About Scabs
2. A pig costume
3. An acne-treatment system
4. A book called Shut Up, Stop Whining, and Get a Life
5. A book called When Love Dies (this is actually a rather ingenious way to suggest to a loved one that things "just aren't working out"
6. A tick-removal tool
7. Alli weight loss supplement
8. Rogaine for Men
9. Wolf urine lure
10. Ex-lax

So, everyone, don't rush at once! If the past is any indication, I can hopefully expect to receive the weight-loss supplement from my mother.

Irish Not Too Drunk To Come Up With a Good Idea

It's OK, I'm part Irish; we're allowed to make fun of ourselves! But let's not digress: Last summer, Whole Foods was selling those "I'm Not a Plastic Bag" bags, which people were supposed to use for groceries -- in order to save plastic bags. That idea obviously didn't work.

The Irish, however, got it right. The New York Times explains that Ireland in 2002 placed a 33-cent tax on each plastic bag that a customer receives at a store. You could request plastic and pay for it, or bring your own bag for free:

Within weeks, plastic bag use dropped 94 percent. Within a year, nearly everyone had bought reusable cloth bags, keeping them in offices and in the backs of cars. Plastic bags were not outlawed, but carrying them became socially unacceptable — on a par with wearing a fur coat or not cleaning up after one’s dog.

Why hasn't such a policy been instituted in America? Or at least in NYC? As I think I've said before, up to a trillion plastic bags end up in a landfill each year. And, as National Geographic puts it:

As a result, the (plastic) totes are everywhere. They sit balled up and stuffed into the one that hangs from the pantry door. They line bathroom trash bins. They carry clothes to the gym. They clutter landfills. They flap from trees. They float in the breeze. They clog roadside drains. They drift on the high seas. They fill sea turtle bellies.

If that sea turtle line doesn't get ya, then nothing will. I'm not saying that I never use plastic bags, but I've definitely cut down on my use. Even my Republican mother bought me cloth bags from her local Florida supermarket!