i would like to meet you in person. tell your fiance not to be threatened. i am severely emotionaly retarded so she has nothing to worry about. except my stellar personality.
let me know.
hello. i am writing this post from a perilous location. the rickety, rusty fire escape on my 5th floor sublet. 1 of two things could happen. either i could fall, or my computer could fall. in either case a couple of people would be marginally upset.
that picture is ugly. so i will now insert a hot picture of an ass that may or may not be mine. why? because i can. i'm not in therapy and this is how i feel better about myself.
the glorious weather continues, and i decided to take my rat dog for a long walk. sometimes i forget that i actually live on an island. though i much prefer islands with pina colada's, steel drums, and water that is any color other than brown. but, i can't be choosy all the time. so i embrace la isla that is manhattan.
if i walk ALLLLL the way to the tip of the pier on the hudson river, and squeeze myself ALLLL the way to the corner, and squint my eyes a little, i can remove all the shit that is going on in my peripheral vision and listen to the sound of the water lapping on the wooden stilts. that was peaceful. but then this fuckwaddicksuckingshitfuck rolls up on rollerSKATES going round and round in circles behind me. oh, there's more. he is playing belinda carlisle excruciatingy loud on a boombox. like, that thing that takes 9 D volt batteries. god save me.
a photo tour of hudson river park:
a view north
the statue of liberty, look closely
fuck the police! right, gigi?
a beautiful day in the neighborhood. FDNY keeps busy.
the fountain at christopher st. THE place to go for black transvestite/lesbian/gay prostitutes. i'm not being racist. it's a fact.
i used to eat there in london. before they came to usa. that was the same time that fatty mcgehee picture of me from the previous post was taken. crazy.
they didn't have my favorite kind, the hummus sandwich. so i had the turkey. their sandwiches come whole or in halves. i chose half so i don't ever look as fat as i did in london. and a low fat yogurt with rubarb bottom, again so i don't ever look as fat as i did in london.
(on a side note, i have rediscovered POP! by erasure. i am listening to it full blast right now. so good.)
this is what the fridge looks like. on a busy day it's really scary, like every man for himself. reaching and grabbing what they can. they have EVERYTHING. soup, chips, salads, wraps, sandwiches, cookies, yogurts, fresh juices, fruit salads, fruit, coffee, cakes.
this was my cashier. she kept staring at me with a smile and wouldn't take my card. and just, i mean just before i lost it, she said "can i at least get a smile?" of course, i obliged. it was sunny out. what could i do?
soraya was being a cunt and wouldn't let me take her picture. but it was gorgeous out. can't wait til they open the lawn. it's such a tease watching the dirty pigeons get to rub their toes in the grass but we can't.
nothing to write. eating been boring.
need to go away. to a beach. anyone interested?
in the meantime i am going to texas soon. going to drive from houston to austin past green hills and grazing cows. then going to eat those cows when i go to salt lick bbq.
visit my old haunts like the sorority house where i puked a lot. and sixth street where i puked a lot. pretty much any street where i puked a lot.
going to drink dr. pepper and eat whataburgers. drink a mexican maritini, which is basically a margariti in a martini glass with an olive. drink shiner and ziegenbach. watch the sunset over lake travis. eat hut's chili with all the jalapenos i can fit in the bowl. and talk with a twang that mysteriously reappears each time i smell that hot, humid houston air.
oh boy. am i excited. take a gander...
of course, after all that booze and food, i'll probably end up looking like i did junior year. keep in mind this was 10 years ago. oofah. i can't believe i actually posted this:
bryant park is my favorite. and the weather was so amazing i didn't even care that i waited 20 minutes in line at wichcraft only to find out, at the register, that every sandwich i wanted was sold out.
i know it looks like i smelled a fart and/or sucked a lemon, but it's just the sun in my eyes. so not cute. i'm eating a grilled chicken, grilled red pepper, mozarella, and lot's and lot's of grease panini.
i ordered the butternut squash soup, but it came out tasting suspiciously like cauliflower soup-the other soup of the day.
soraya was a little more impatient. but her foul mood stemmed from the fact that her retarded boyfriend broke up with her for the 13th time in 4 years. so annoying.
she lost patience and went to PAX. that place is so disgusting, i don't know how she did it. but she was back in less than 3 minutes. i was still waiting for my sandwich.
la, la, la...green grass...so happy!
high hopes, we've got hi-i-igh hopes...
yay, new place in the hood! pretty cute, lots of windows, high ceilings, good menu. it's called think coffee on bowery and bleecker.
went with rachel, a former super model. fucking sick body, still.
she had the lunch of a 2nd grader. peanut butter and banana and honey and cinnamon sandwich. and a whole milk. not skim. more power to ya. the cinnamon ruined it, and it should have had more peanut butter.
soraya had an apple, brie, and honey and balsamic vinegar on baguette sandwich. she kept bitching about how it was too sweet. she had a coke in a glass which is always better than a can and way better than plastic. but still not as good as mcdonald's fountain.
i had salmon, cream cheese, watercress, and red onions on black bread. the onions didn't bother me because the only boy i have had a crush on in 3 years lives in newfoundland (look it up). and he isn't getting anywhere near my face anytime soon. it was, eh. whatever.
everything was whatever. it's new though, so i'll give them another shot. i think it would still be good to go to for a cup of coffee.
best part of lunch was dessert back at the office. oreos and milk. there was definitely an elementary school lunch theme going on today.
this is bar pitti's rich, tacky neighbor. bar pitti wears converse, and this guy wears...i don't know, what do cheesy italians wear when they step out of their ferrari's? whatever, the ladies would be wearing very thin 4" heels. with pointy toes. this is usually paparazzi heaven, but i guess miley cyrus was around the corner, and britney spears was on the F train, so that left the sidewalk pretty empty. plus, i didn't roll up in my maybach today. you know, i wanted to be like everyone else. and walk. in the cold.
brain hurt. not working. this date was howard part due. i love howard. he's like an intimidating yet huggable big brother. (see my post on raoul's for background).
the food was good. -ish. good-ish. i used to get dressed up to go to this place when i was younger. like, a night out...at da silvano...oooooh. now i could give two shits. i wasn't even wearing deoderant today. had sliced meat and crumbly cheese. white wine (yeah! at lunch!). poached artichoke. soraya and i split a pasta.
howard had this pollo, which is italian for chicken. duh. but it smelled like boiled bird. like when my dad went pheasant hunting, brought them home, and thought you cooked them by putting them in a pot of hot water. with nothing else. the kitchen smelled like bird flesh for days. that smell made me sick. and so did howards pollo.
the best part of lunch (besides howard) was the old priest sitting behind us. he had two cell phones and 3 times as many glasses of wine during the course of our stay. huh? those suits just creep me out. but not as much as when this little boy came out from under the table.
he didn't have time for dessert. so soraya and i went to amy's bread for a cupcake. bad idea. they were rock hard, like my boobs when i was 17.
jesus fucking christ, is that what i look like today? (sorry, father. priest man. reverend?)
brain hurt. not working. post not funny.
i am totally addicted to chili from jone's. today i couldn't leave the office so i ordered it to go.
it came in this massive tub. but don't worry. i worked my way through it. it took me a couple of hours, but i did it.
got sour cream?
i'll take any cream. on my face. (like la mer or la prarie, you perv).
what up, bitches.
went to lunch with my out of work friend matthew. ladies, he's single. and don't get the wrong idea by out of work. he pretty much shits gold bricks. and he's related to JFK.
anywho. DO NOT go to acme on great jones. it's like jone's cafe's retarded half brother that is kept in a basement so as not to embarrass the family.
started of with chicken gumbo. after you get used to the soapy flavor, it's not that bad. and there was no gristle in any of my bites, which is always a plus.
then had red beans and rice. now this was just pathetic. it was like the opened a can of goya red beans, and poured it over some uncle bens instant rice. NO FLAVA. i doused it with all the hot sauces they had, but it didn't help.
the chicken tenders were interesting. a little dry. but ketchup made it wet and tangy. if you're feeling generous, and run into a crew of homeless children, you could feed them all with one order. it was ridiculously huge. and a little dry.
that was that. paid with a card. don't drink the iced tea, it was murkey.