i need to vent-ilate. fuck you to the following people:
1) to the chinese guys riding their bikes on the sidewalk--sideWALK you fuck--even though there are no cars on the street, there is a bike lane, and OH JEEZ IT"S FUCKING ILLEGAL. and what, am i supposed to make room for you as you pass? go fuck yourself.
2) to the extra holiday employees at mid range fashion stores like club monaco, j.crew, or intermix. why do three of you gather together and scream and laugh like there are no customers in the store? "oooh, girl you KNOW she gon make you work late.." "nah, bitch i be like fuck that! i already stocked all them new spring collections" heelllo! do you have this in a small? what the fuck are they paying you for? this isn't a fucking cafeteria to gab in.
3) to the polish guy at CHO'S DELI ON CARMINE AND BEDFORD. yes you, with your fat shiny shaved head. i have known you for 2 years. tonight i stand there with a pack of sour patch kids for at least an entire minute while you recant to your buddy a story of someone hitting your car which inludes more explitives than i knew existed and more fucks per second than i thought possible. i know it's new york but i am still a lady and still a patron of your store. and when i fucking pull your chain for having a dirty mouth IN JEST, the last thing i need is for you to shoot me a look of death telling me to mind my own business, and who asked me. (i told him to chill the fuck out and recognize sarcasm, and i thought we were friends...but i don't think he knew what sarcasm meant. therefor this friendship is over. dick. i wasted all those smiles and pleases and thank you's. ugh, i knew i shouldn't be nice.)
that's all. this may have broken my seal...more posts to come.
that skinny trangle place on bleecker and lafayette.
here is the soup i got
here is how it tasted.
it's claims to be lentil, so i was imagining a hearty puree. it was not, it was more like dishwater with some stuff floating in it. from what i can identify, here are the ingredients.
it's a little weird, that combination, don't you think so?
it was hot, wet, and salty, three things all soups should be at the very least.
paid with a mastercard. whatev's.
today i left the gym in tears. when you go down for that last squat, and you can't get back up, and john is yelling at you "you can do it, yes you can, you can do it." and you're like, GO FUCK YOURSELF YOU PIECE OF SHIT DON'T TELL ME I CAN DO IT WHEN I CLEARLY CAN'T. NOT "I CAN'T, WAAAH." BUT LITERALLY I CAN'T. YOU FUCK. I JUST FELL OVER. ON MY ASS. ON FRONT OF THAT 60 YEAR OLD WOMAN DOING SQUATS WITH 10 POUND HAND WEIGHTS.
john said not to be discouraged. that he was pushing me as hard as he could and couldn't believe i lasted that long. (4 squats). so what..? now i am supposed to be proud after i felt like a total failure?
anyway. seeing him again next week.
today i picked a random restaurant from menupages for delivery. there is no way i am walking down stairs to go out to lunch after that debacle.
zafi's got some nice reviews. they are deep in the LES, and so nice on the phone about delivering up here. ordered a corned beef ruben on rye.
kinda greasy. well, that's an understatement. it was fine. no good, but fine.
the pickle was so sour it was awesome
and for dessert, a conference call and a hershey bar--from halloween.
it used to be on carmine and bedford street. lost it's lease and kinda lost it's touch.
in essex market, that long building on...well, essex street, there is a small corner where shopsin's "lives." it's so weird.
let me try to explain. imagine walking into a mall. each store has it's little door and windows. and then in the middle of the walkway is a restaurant. there you go.
the personalty of shopsin's is a charicature of itself. the bus boy is the brother of the waitress who is the daughter of the cook. they have the right to refuse anything you order. do not mistake their brashness for being rude, they genuinely are flustered and have no social graces--but there is no anger there.
here is the fron tof the menu.
here is the back
i swear the kitchen must be the size of my house in texas because i have no idea where they keep all the ingredients to make their shit.
coffee is good, they had half and half but couldn't warm it.
have no idea what we ordered by name. but here is a pick of nine grain toast, egss, cheese, jalapenos, and hericot vert. what?
huge fresh squeezed oj.
bacon. adan can't go anywhere without ordering bacon. or chorizo. or (insert name of fatty meat).
i mean, the company was good. the nine grain toast was good. but whatever. i like square diner better.
needed a good detox. went with my california girl rose to na trang on centre street.
veggie pho. brilliant. and bar b q beef summer rolls.
i ate the beef until rose told me a story. apparently SOMEone she knows, knows SOMEone who asked a chinese restaurant if they had any more dog, and the place said they had just run out. ugh. disgusting.
the story was bad enough, but one second later, she commented on the beef being ..."tough."
precisely why i order the no-meat pho.
made friends with jen there, the cute older waitress with a librarian haircut. left with two huge iced vietamese coffees. so good.
i have a secret sauce i make. here is the sort-of-recipe.
in a bowl:
a big squirt of sriracha. like 3-4 seconds long.
a nice squeeze of lime.
two circles of sugar.
a squirt of fish sauce.
mix with one chopstick until sugar is niceley dissolved.
this blend is tart, salty, and the sugar really cuts the spice of the sriracha. trust me. SO GOOD.
the vietnamese sandwich place.
I WILL NOT EAT THERE AGAIN. you know... i was dying to go back there, and show it off to soraya. well, we had a car so i made here wait for me while picked up lunch.
handed her the chicken curry one. she took a bite and, of course, said it was "awesome, but do you trust their meat?"
i was like, "of couuuurrrse i do!!" and right then she spit out her bite and said, "i'm done."
well, she got out the car and ran into a thrift store, so i took a bite of her sandwich thinking she was just being a pussy. as i am chewing, i look inside the baguette and i can't even identify what i saw. it looked like tenticles. or testicles. or both. but i spat out my mouthful and threw both sandwiches out on the sidewalk.
tried to rinse my mouth out with their refreshing, natural looking coconut water, and spat that out too. it was just simple syrup with two coconut chunks in the bottom.
no more. yech.
(but they do play movies while you wait for your order. transformers was on. i love bumble bee.)
this is my mr. winkle.
it's kinda sad that i have all these pictures that i took OF MYSELF and my dog. but i send them to my mother. she surprised me with the pooch a few years ago and i like her to know that i do like the the hound, and she shouldn't feel bad. except when she fucking pukes up her expensive organic doggy biscuits all over my floor.
ladies and gentleman, gigi the silver poodle.
1st annual christmas party last night. was amazing. a little too amazing. we were practically licking the champagne bottles dry.
east village thai delivery
veggie pad thai
can't wait for bob-o-pedic...
here we are again. schiller's. pimm's cups and nachos. hoorah!
anna. swede. another one sucked into my evil web of pimm's.
i asked this girl if i could take a picture of her for my website. she about fainted. maybe she thought i was a model scout or something. and she imagined calling her mom in virginia saying, "momma! i knew there was a reason i took that internship here!" little does she know, i am just using her mug for material.
this guy, too. but maybe he thought that smiling for my blackberry would get him laid. joke's on you sucka! blazers aren't my style.
back to the topic at hand...
no more nachos.
oh please let me scrape out a little bit more nachos!
and a hot maitrd wearing pegleg. apparently peg leg boys are awesome. can't wait to meet them one day.
in my opinion, the best curry in the city is at KAHARI. it's on christopher street, so if you don't mind looking at big black dildo's through the window, then this is the place for you.
the owner is there every night, and even though he looks stressed out, he only wants to please you. they always refill your water without asking.
they deliver, too. here is my chicken tikka masala. and basmati rice, and roti. FUCKING GOOD. but it's so good that i always eat too much and i feel like my tummy is going to pop. which it usually does around 11am the next day.
ok. so it's kind of sad that i haven't been to this place ever. and i guess i technically still haven't BEEN, since i had it delivered.
it is SO GOOD! i can't believe it! i didn't buy into the hype, but seriously. it's amazing.
had a large pizza with pepperoni. and a salad. i mean, i shared it with two other people, but that's what i ordered.
the three of us couldn't finish the pizza, so i picked off the pepperoni from the leftover slices and shovelled 'em down.
kinda pricey. $36 for pizza and a salad. will DEF go back. makes joe's seem like domino's.
so...?? which joint am i talking about?
sometimes i feel like this:
something happens, someone says something or whatever, and i instantly let all my beauty, all my intelligence, all my strenth, all my instincts, and all my worth disappear. it's all taken away by a happen or a said.
luckily that only lasts a few hours. i say fuck you to whatever brings me down and i put on eyeliner and go out. before it would last days, and i would end up in a puddle of sadness on my cold, cold bathroom floor with the door closed. cause it was quiet.
woah. think i am fucked up?
where is my fucking, fuck, fuck, fuck you eyeliner!?
today was about as bland as the oatmeal i ate. instant, which makes it a little worse.
in other news, shorts is back. big ups, shorts!
attention dave d., if you are shooting near the office come by for lunch.
you know how you have cake tastings for weddings? ya, well, that fun came and went for me. so now my tastings are for cookies. for our christmas party.
cookies are hard to fuck up. but when you pay a very heterosexual looking gay man $7 a letter to decorate them, and they end up looking like a retard threw sugar at it, it can get very frustrating.
i would not get your cookies (or wedding cakes) from a certain bakery near a certain park that has the word "thompson" in it.