I went to the Apple Store in Soho yesterday with my roomate, who was in search of the new U2 ipod. I looked around, played with a few gadgets, and I failed to see all the hype behind this new single's hotspot. I didn't see anyone I was interested in, nor did anyone hit on me...Oh well, maybe next time.
Here's what I ate the day after turkey day:
turkey
stuffing
mashed potatoes
gravy
6 enchiladas
half a pint of Godiva White Chocolate Raspberry Swirl ice cream
6 Nestle Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Caramel cookies
Turkish eggplant stuff
1 slice of pecan pie
1 slice of apple pie
and a partridge in a pear tree
Gosh, with the way my stomach felt, I swore I ate more than that. I must have had large quantities, because I know I was about to explode.
That's what the doctor told me yesterday to cure my chronic insomnia. At first I thought she was telling me that because the Bible is boring, but she told me that because she's trying to recruit me into her church. Then she told me to pray to god and ask him to make sweets and cigarettes taste bad. This was after eating strawberries in the exam room and proceeding to touch my face without washing her hands. Disgusting! I'm never going back to that doctor again!
Last night was Lynette's birthday, so we went to the Red Rock West Saloon in Chelsea, a crazy dive bar where the bartender poors whisky down the throats of disgusting men and discusses vibrators with the female partrons. The bartender picked up the mic and asked, "Who's going to buy this girl a g-string so she'll dance on the bar?" Someone actually got the g-string to see me dance on the bar! I couldn't pass up on a free g-string, so I got on that bar and shook my bootie with the bartender! Unfortunately, the thong is only a size 1, so I don't think I'll be wearing it in this lifetime.
A picture of my prize
"This is like a rock concert,"said Hugo Chung, 28, a graduate student at New York University. Yeah Hugo, sure, a rock concert—if you say so....
I got in line in the cold rain today at 8am for one hour at H&M at 5th Avenue at 51st Street to wait for the debut of the Karl Lagerfeld for H&M line. I got a free Krispy Kreme doughnut for my efforts along with a limited edition Karl Lagerfeld t-shirt. When they let us in the store at 9am it was sheer madness! Clothes were flying off the racks and people were going crazy! I managed to snag sunglasses, a cocktail dress, a skirt and several items of jewelry before heading to the cashier. There were cameras all over the place.
If you wanna channel your inner gangsta or drink like Snoop Dogg, pay just $2 entry and head to the Laila Lounge in Williamsburg on Friday, November 19, for the Beautiful/Decay magazine release party. Everyone gets a 40 on the house!!!!
Woohoo! According to The Times and the BBC News, I went to the second-best school (that's the University of California at Berkeley, for those of you that don't know) in the world! I must be smart...
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As I was craving authentic cali-mex—the thing I miss most about California (aside from my family and friends there), I suggested to my mother yesterday that we go to the Acapulco Taqueria burrito truck located on West A Street in Hayward. Yum yum yum. Nothing can beat a $3.00 asada burrito, with piping hot beef, shredded cheese, beans and sour cream wrapped in a soft flour tortilla. I also had a an apple soda. Mom had an asada taco and a carnitas taco for a buck each. She said the carnitas was a bit on the dry side. The menu was simple: carnitas, polla, asada, lengua, some kind of innards and a few other choices in a burrito, taco or quesadilla. There were also tostadas with ceviche. The prices were totally basement bargain compared to the $6.00 burritos at Burritoville here in New York. Now this place was once a truck in the middle of an empty parking lot, it was sooooo good that they actually constructed an outdoor area and a building to enhance the ambience!
Who's smarter? The blue states or the red states? Gee, I wonder...
A few words from slate.com on why Americans hate Democrats:
Why Americans Hate Democrats—A Dialogue Tapping into the "Obama" factor
I took BART with Ed to San Francisco last night to meet my former French conversation partner/friend, Julie. We got off BART at Powell Street, and I stood in front of a Cable Car while Ed snapped his camera. Funny fact about Ann: even though she grew up in the Bay Area and has been to San Francisco numerous times, she has never been on a cable car! We walked up Stockton, through a tunnel, into Chinatown, past all the strip clubs, to North Beach and we finally hit The Stinking Rose and the pungent smell of garlic filled the air. For a starter we ordered a Bagna Calda, a pan filled with roasted garlic cloves and olive oil. Ed ordered a not so good chicken caesar salad, Julie ordered ravioli in a porcini mushroom sauce with a chicken breast on top. I ordered gnocchi in a gorgonzola sauce with asparugus and pine nuts. Julie and I caught up in French for the most part, and I felt bad because Ed kept on spacing out.
After dinner we headed to the Tikki Room on Broadway and had this huge slushy concoction for four of rum, peach schnapps, Bacardi 151 and fruit juices in a bowl with a fire in the middle.
Julie, Ed and I had a heated debate about politics and Julie kept on saying that she didn't know how the American people could be so stupid! I've never heard the girl talk about something so passionately. We covered war, the right to choose, healthcare, rednecks and foreign policy before moving on to the difference between American boys and French boys and sex. Julie told me that men in France don't push you to have sex on the first night, while American guys do. Personally I've encountered several French men that wanted to "faire l'amour avec moi" on the first night. She said that if a girl sleeps with a frenchman on the first night, she's a BITCH!
After we went to Fuse , and Julie and I were both exhausted. I drank what claimed to be "The Best lemondrop in San Francisco", but it was very disappointing, while Julie and I had a smoke break, Ed spilled the rest of my drink. As we left the place, I ran into a girl I used to know named Jen and gave her a two-second update of my life.
Ed and I left Julie at Broadway and Columbus, and I gave her an American hug and two French kisses on each cheek before telling her goodbye. She gave Ed an American hug.
We strolled down Columbus and ended up going into the San Francisco Brewing Company. For a moment I felt like I was in the beatnik era of Jack Kerouac, sitting North Beach sipping on beer while listening to live jazz in the background. That was hot.
After two beers each, Ed and I went into a taxi and the driver told us that he tried to avoid the BART closing time rush because he didn't want to deal with the drunken yuppies that were trying to get back to the East Bay. He told us how San Francisco was so different in the 80's compared to now, that there were more artists and writers, and that now it's just filled with bland people. I told him that was the exact reason why I moved to New York, to be surrounded by brilliant (and not-so-brilliant) creative people, to immerse myself in the midst of people that could potentially inspire me.
Went back to Blake's on Telegraph for the first time since I moved to New York. It was so strange for me to go to the restaurant/bar that I worked at for three years of my life (on and off) and see all the familiar faces. Pat was behind the bar, Leslie was serving section one, Harry was up in the office. Charles was even sitting at his same table by the window having his early dinner. I ordered seafood enchiladas, the veggie tofu wrap, garlic fries, and Ed ordered a cheeseburger. The fries and seafood enchiladas were good, but I have to admit that the tofu veggie wrap was subpar, definitely not the wrap I ate when I first started working there. I even ran to Brigitte on the street on her way to work there. I have to admit it was a nice feeling to walk into an establishment where everyone was happy to see you.
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There's nothing like opening an old box of memories. I just discovered an old box filled with photos of me in Paris and Amsterdam at 19, my old apartment kitchen filled wall to wall with Corona bottles, my cracked out raving days, a book bought from a music festival in Barcelona, a pamphlet from the an old Warhol exhibit at the Tate Modern,an old high school yearbook, college graduation photos, my first trip to New York...(sigh)
...some pictures soon to be posted...
I'm back in California for the weekend and I drove a car this morning!It was fun, but I definitely prefer pounding the pavement in New York to driving in the Cali suburbs. Walking comes naturally, so you're free to think about other things while doing it. Driving, on the otherhand requires the utmost attention paired with a certain hand-eye coordination that I don't possess. Needless to say, I am thankful I don't own a car.
Right down to my underwear. I was mourning the suicide of our great nation for electing a facist cowboy for our president.
So as I was opening the door to leave my apt this morning, my doorknob fell out of the socket and on the floor. Oops! I told my roomate to fix it and grabbed the bag of trash and ran downstairs. As I opened the door that led to the trash area, I accidentally pulled off that doorknob as well! Looks like I don't know my own strength! Then I went off to cast my vote for Kerry before heading to work.