cafe felix

went here for a drink. not dinner. a drink. can't eat here ever since i had a worm in my cod. scratch that--one dead worm, then one alive worm. two separate worms. two separate stages of existense. both in my cod on my plate.

but it is still a cute place for a drink.

this is gabriello, or gorgonzolo, or something. whatever he had made, i was eyeing and drooling over. apparently it's his own recipe of victoria hot sauce from mexico, black pepper, and god knows what else and he cooks his flat, thin steak in it.



it was better than that feeling you get when a guy returns your texts in less than one minute change on your cell phone.



i ate it. so did the other guy at the bar who i didn't know, and neither did gabriel/gorgonzol.



met the owner alain. he loved me after the conversation revealed that i had stayed at his friends hotel in cap d'antibes. that's in the south of france for all you idiots. the hotel is the eden roc. that's fucking high class for all you idiots. cash only high class. treated me like his best friend after that. i don't even know what integrity means anymore.

this place is cute, fun, high ceilings. excellent burgers, good to watch soccer. just stay away from the fucking fish.

hip to be square

i found somewhere i liked!

i love it. i hope it doesn't blow up. i swear to god i want you to stand up if you see me walk in, and give me your table. and say thank you as you do it. you'll know who i am by the dirty looks i give everyone in the joint.

square diner. west broadway and leonard, i think. too cute. wooden slat ceiling. tiny. perfect.

warning: fresh squeezed orange juice = tropicana. but they will still say it's fresh squeezed even if you ask, "are you sure this is fresh squeezed?" no matter.



fruit salad had mango slices in it. which really impressed me.

ordered a lumberjack breakfast. it should have been called the meat breakfast. cause there was a lot of meat. see that ham hiding under the eggs? that was discovered after excavating the bacon and sausage.



for $1 extra you can have real maple syrup. whatever that means. i got it cause apparently you are unsophisticated if you like aunt jemima.



i guess i couldn't ruin my perfect, perfect buckwheat pancakes with corn syrup, though.

now you see it.



now you don't.



i lurve this place. (annie hall anyone? "i more than love you. i lurve you.")

cash only, but ATM inside, which is impressive cause the whole place is only 33.3 sf big.

$30 for breaky. super nice waitstaff.

a rhyme

one pill, two pill
red pill, blue pill.

and another red, and an orange, and half a white.

and the capsule for my poodle cause she has issues, too.
(that was the vets decision, not mine).

long time...no ikea.

to all (ha) of you who have wondered where i've been, i apologize. i just got totally sick of everywhere i ate and was beyond frustrated. i became indifferent.

this is nothing a quick trip tp ikea couldn't snap me out of.

my friend's girlfriend is swedish. i didn't believe her cause her hair is right brown, but she speaks the fucking language so i guess i have to. we all went to ikea.

after ikea, roi is going to rob a commerce bank. no, wait, bank of america.



anna did NOT join us at the restaurant because she said macaroni and cheese is not swedish.



roi will do anything to get me to eat my veggies.



standard sequence: excitement, triumph, bargains, gadgets, food, yummy, ---> lines, screaming babies, maze, lost, no cell phone service, where did anna go, where am i, where is the bathroom i have to pee, i just peed on myself a little, must leave this place--->convertible mercedes with 3 adults and FURNITURE crammed into it--->lost on the turnpike, turn around, no cash for toll, spilled juice on lap, holland tunnel traffic ---> why did i decide to buy all this heavy shit when i live in a walk up with no boyfriend to carry it? i came thisclose to just leaving it all on the sidewalk.

but i did find this cute little bumble bee get up. the kids really thought it was hilarious. the adults did not.

thanksgiving

i am so tired of thanksgiving, which makes sense cause it was 5 days ago. here is the deal. i woke up early, blow dried my hair and went to help my ex cook for his whole family. which was fun. and cute. he made me wear a chefs hat and coat. i couldn't tell if that was endearing or humiliating. then i rushed home, showered and changed, and went to my friends for our annual drunken-orphan thanksgiving.

is it too old to be an orphan at 30?

hadn't eaten one nibble all day, got there and drank beers and beers and wine and wine. which would have been fine, except there was a delay in the turkey cooking. like, seriously? the only reason i stay in new york this week is to AVOID ANY DELAYS (get it? as in the airport? ugh.). we drank the (our) traditional barenjager. you haven't lived if you haven't had this stuff. they serve it at faneli's if you can't find it--it's rare. it tastes like honey and ether. more like honey... and that shit will get you all kinds of fucked up.



this is the chef basting honey on the bitch while drinking said honey gasoline drink.



by the time the fucking bird was cooked everyone was too drunk to taste it. i may or may not have taken my dress off and run around the room screaming "gobble, gobble" at the top of my lungs. no recollection of how i got home. but i was naked when i woke up. awesome. (would have been more awesome if there was a smokin' hot boy next to me--no wait, cooking me breakfast. unless i didn't know him. that would kind of suck. so i guess i am kind of glad was alone in my bob-o-pedic. not temper-pedic; bob-o-pedic).

happiness is...

mr. winkle.

cafe gitane and strong men

2 things

1: cafe gitane is for sure the cutest little place to eat in soho--possibly all of lower manhattan.

2: i can't go out with a skinny dude.

i realized this when i was looking at all the skinny dudes in cafe gitane. how is a skinny dude going to protect me from evil, bully neighbors in my office building? how is a skinny dude going to lift an entire car with one hand--if i needed him to? how is a skinny dude going to rescue me?

bonnie tyler said it best:



"I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero till the end of the night
he's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast
and gotta be fresh from the fight ...

It's gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet"

yes it is, bonnie. yes it is.


some pics from gitane. i wouldn't drink the tap water they put on the table. i sat at the bar and watched the dishwasher fill them up. it wasn't very sanitary.
pan au chocolate

chicken sandwich with mango and strawberries. really good.

cucumber yogurt and hummus with rose petals.

chili

i never actually knew this place was an extension of faneli's. they have chili and soup and wraps.

corner of mercer and prince. the little black hut. like a tumor on the building.

simple post for a simple place.



view of veggie chili:


mini coke from target

material

here is the thing. when i started this thing, i was mad and sad and just generally a horrible person to be around. i think that made it funny, cause i really only think i'm funny when i am being a total cunt.

the bad feelings mostly stemmed from my reactions to the boy...but i am so bored of being upset over that. it's like a rocky IV situation: the story is the same as before, the ending is the same as before, and you just couldn't care to watch another one. i mean, i will always love him and want him and wish there was an alernative ending on the dvd kind of thing-who knows. anything could happen. i just can't be sad over it anymore.

now, it's like, i am not that angry? or miserable? so it's hard for me to get inspired?

i have to find a new voice--or else put myself in more situations that irritate me. like ride the subway more often, or walk behind women with strollers. basically anything that makes me want to stick needles into my eyeballs or light myself on fire.

gonna work on that.

xo

the following has nothing to do with soho or lunch. but, my god, this dog is just too much to handle. his name is mr. winkles. could you die? couldn't you just punch it for being so cute?

mr. winkle

remember finlay?

crazy finlay. went drinking with him. come on...your remember:

refresh your memory

check it. he good.

more of finlay's awesomely awesome shoot for the fucking new york times, yo

eato dinnero in brooklyno

ok, so i've been to brooklyn more times in the past 2 months than my entire life in nyc.

i still don't get it. is it cause there is more parking?

went to bonita. i'm not sure of it's exact location, it's somewhere across that water part between here and there.



according to the picture, it serves comida tipica mexicana. that means i'sposed to be real. please, like taco surf on the highway between rosarito and ensenada serves shredded radhishes and "baby" cilantro on their shit. no way, hombre.

i had high hopes cause everyone working there was latino tipico, so there was no way the food could be bad.

but it was, eh. not bad. just not right...but not bad. i really think my theory about mexican food not being good this far north might have some merit. you know, like the water in LA can't make good bagels or pizza crust? jalapenos and cilantro just don't grow right up here.

the guacamole was excellent, to be fair. pacificos were almost cold. whatev's.


(friend asked me why i always have to have pictures with long things in my mouth. my response was, duh.)

had chicken tacos. chicken was ickster. so i just ate the corn tortillas doused with lime juice.



oh, and...

lonely lunch

god am i in a foul mood today. started off great, turned to shit, now i am just sitting in the shit. speaking of shit, did you hear about butthash yet? apparently the youth are putting feces and urine in a bottle, sealing it with a balloon, then when the balloon fills with gas (ha), they inhale it. it makes you hallucinate and pass out and wake up and hallucinate but the side effect is your mouth tastes like poo for days.



that is hilarious.

what happened to whippits? they were good enough for me and they should be good enought for you, young man.

how to make butt hash

anyway, lonely lunch. went to bite on lafayette and bleecker. again, middle eastern food (and music), japanese guy taking orders, mexican guy working the back. it is just weird.

sandwich was middle eastern smoked turkey with the spicy option. whole wheat roll (it was hard), smoked turkey (good, thinly sliced), plum tomatoes, hummus, spicy stuff. despite its identity crisis, it was fairly good.



then a slice of marble cake. decent.



i paid cash, i have no idea if they take cc's. they are pricks at the counter.

xo

my dear keith

last night was fantastic. but the photo's were too boring to post.

"izakaya ten"
japanese place on 10th and 22nd. not too gay.
food was good and reasonably priced.
if you like japanese food, i would go. it's great.

i do not like japanese food.

i do like anything that comes in a can, though. and this sake was way better than that fancy shit you had in a bottle. i would go back just for that.

is castro dead or what?

went to lunch with my friend jessica.

her boyfriend and my boyfriend shared a house in college. so we weren't really friends then, so much as acquaintances that passed each other on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. and we both witnessed eachother having some nasty drunk fights with the boys.

every stereotype you have heard about southern state schools is true. and so are the ones about sororities and fraternities. although, when i was there, the whole girl on girl thing that you see in girls gone wild wasn't really happening. and i was a virgin nearly the whole way through. in college i learned that my kids are NOT going to college. unless i want them get a head start on cirrhosis of the liver. and a few STD's.




like a good sorority girl, i shoved that corn deep. decent. la esquina is better.



i have this thing for rice and beans...i just can't get enough. jessica had the diablo sandwich with is truly the best thing for lunch there. i can't explain, just go try it.



fun lunch, wasn't too crowded. jappy girls next to us talked really loud and screetchy. but when they left it was all good.

thompson street cafe bitch

if you see this girl, just go ahead and spit on her.



boys and girls, what do we do when someone is trying get past our chair? that's correct. we politely make eye contact, say excuse me, and pull our chair in so they can pass. even if you can't pull in any further, you pretend.

not this cunt. not 1, not 2, not 3, but 4 people bumped into her chair and she had plenty of room but didn't give a shit. she is going to trip on a crack in the sidwalk on mercer and skin her palms real bad. karma, you cunt. karma.

ok, so i am over this place. look at their "side salad." a joke. and that one piece of lettuce fell from my sandwich.



dunzo.

i hate myself

i hate that i am so bad about posting. it took me exactly one week to put this much make up on my face for an event tonight, so...you know. at least i have an excuse.



tomorrow i promise to eat at some shitty restaurant and bitch about it for you. my angels.

UPDATE: if you want to leave cryptic comments...don't. finish your thoughts, you fuckheads.

halloween.

almost exactly the same, except i stopped doing coke years ago.

jone's

i went to this place for brunch years ago, and swore i wouldn't go back. it was crowded, and i was fresh off the boat from texas and disgruntled with any place that pretended to be southern in any way. it's like the ingredients lose all authentic flavor the minute they cross the mason dixon line. complete bullshit. seriously? those taco places are owned by chinese people. que?

but it was dinner time, so i thought i would give it a shot at redemtion.

it MAY be that my tastebuds have lost their hypersensitivity to true cajun flava. cause it was pretty good. and the crowd is much calmer at night. it is cozy and perfect for a winter dinner.

started off with a rolling rock--mmm, high school. wanted an abita light (louisana beer), but they didn't have it.



then a house salad. really good, nothing fancy, just good. served in a wooden bowl. anyone from texas...? remember the all you can eat salad bar at mr. gatti's pizza? same bowl.



then moved on to a cup of 4 alarm chili. for all your northerners, the more alarms, the hotter it is. for example, i am a 4 alarm chick. pamela anderson (used to be) is a 5 alarm. ugh, that was bad...

the chili was really good. really.



then andoullie and seafood gumbo. with a side of cornbread and honey. the gumbo was great. the cornbread could have been sweeter, instead of just putting the honey on top.





then we had key lime pie after that. not the best. i would have gone for pecan pie EXCEPT it was chocolate pecan pie. that is just wrong, wrong, wrong. no pic because i was too sick from eating so much.

CASH ONLY. rotten rotten rotten policy.

UPDATE: they take visa and MC now. i had my goons shake them up, it worked.

sorry

lost motivation for hot minute. i am back.