rhong-tiam

it's funny cause when i first went there with my friends maria and anita, we had the wrong reservation time. get it? rhong-tiam? we thought it was funny. but not as funny as the ass-on-fire the next day.


the food is soooo good there and sooooo spicy.

tonight i ordered in thinking i'd have a snack and then go out with my buddies. well, i never made it past snacking. big surprise. gotta start hittin the weed again. it helps me go out because i forget that i ever considered staying in and watching family guy.

here i am not getting ready to do anything. because, um, i'm saving up for the weekend, um, like for my birthday. no really.



they have a good ordering system. you give your phone number and all your info pops up for them. i had vegetarian pad see ew. no ew in this dish. it was mmm, mmm, good. clean veggies, thin flat noodles--a nice change from the usually thicker doughy flat noodles at the other (lemongrass, spice) thai restaurants. i got banana (thinking of gwen stefani now, can't help it) sticky rice. looked like a dick, but i ate it. or should. i say, SO i ate it. hardy, har, har. speaking of richard, there's a lot of hot richard at the ear inn, pretty regularly. i'm just sayin....

rhong-tiam is on la guardia. bet 20% of you have no idea where that is.

i made it to 4:13pm

sinner

i popped out of a jewish womb, which makes me jewish. and that annoys the shit out of my orthodox cousin who had to actually convert to become a VIP member. especially since i eat cheeseburgers, bacon, shrimp, mussels, oysters, have tattoos, take it up the ass, and keep a crucifix next to my bed. i'll always get to be a jew no matter how much i fuck it up.

anywho. unless you live under a rock or in arkansas, you would know that today is that day that we fast. we fast because the pain from the hunger is meant to remind you of the pain of your sins. i totally made that up. i have no idea why we fast.

i don't really do it cause i'm religious (see 1st paragraph), i try to do it cause i am superstitious and fear my other family members who are might die or something if i don't.

i make up my own rules though. like today i am drinking (very milky with lots of sugar) coffee. what. it's still hard, dude. even with the calcium and calories. i almost fell off my chair a few minutes ago.

can't wait to eat pork ribs and a milkshake at sundown. booyah.

before:


after:

pinche taco goes down

sad sad news. pinche taco is now worse than fresco tortilla taco. yes-i said it.

i ordered a taco salad. it sounded good; lettuce, tomato, beans, sour cream, guacamole, cilantro (hold the cheese). all things i like. i went ahead and ordered the carne asada on it for some protein.



1) no cilatro on it
2) the delivery forgot one whole order
3) the side of jalapenos i ordered never came
and most imortant
4) the meat tasted like rotten feet.



it was inedible. i had two other people try it and they both agreed. IN. EDIBLE.

see, they opened another branch right by my work. they got greedy. and now, instead of one good pinche taco, there are two bad pinche tacos.

blech.

it's so cold in my office i had to eat my delivery in my coat and wrapped in a blanket. east village thai delivery. pad thai good, sweet like candy. chicken satay ok, a little tough and too much curry taste.

that's it.

sorry

i had to delete those last two posts. i hate politics and me talking about how much i hate politics only makes it worse.

i still resent being called dumb, though.

chips

you know that times where you are standing in front of a soda vending machine and you just WISH it served hot french fried instead?

well, such a thing exists. i swear.

foreign land and bike line violators

hi my babies. i am leaving for a long time. 12 days. just about 10 days longer than i'd like to leave my doggie and my job and my friends. just about negative 15 days longer than i'd like to have to eat at another restaurant in soho. i am going to do some fun international posts. you'll feel cultured.

but lets be real. you guys don't really care about my food. or where to eat. wait, maybe you do.

but i personally like to get personal. like, tell stories. like, how the other day i had to maneuver (woah, i spelled that right without spell check) around a parked TRAFFIC COP van in the fucking bike lane. what the fuck? lead by example, much? he should have been ashamed because it was one of those new bike lanes painted green; as in, "hello you fucker, the measly 2 foot wide lane is painted green so that people like you blocking us should feel humiliated for doing so."

kinda a situation like this, from an image i found on google. clearly a rampant problem:


so as i pass the rolled down passenger window, i flick him off so hard that my sinewy scrawny arm muscles gain perfect definition and i yell "you're in the fucking bike lane, you ass hole!!!"

then i peddle as fast as my little legs can carry me on my DK fury, riding it like a hood rat--frame moving side to side and side to side to help me gain speed. prada bag perched firmly on my shoulder.

that fucker couldn't catch me though. he hit a red light while i sailed through...

bikes are the ONLY way to get around town.

(mine, except i have custom orange handle bars and no logo stickers. just graffiti.)

in fracais. mes amis.

a quote

a quote from "barton fink"

yeaaahhh, ladies do ask for attention. in my experience they pretend to give it but its generally a smokescreen for demanding it back with interest

yup. you said it.

barbossa

bossa, as in bossa nova. as in brazilian. i think. ya, must be cause they serve brahma. or however you spell it.

assistant and i went there for lunch. so nice, sat by the windows and it felt like a real new york city moment.





which got more real...and fast. but first the food.

brett ashley (two names) ordered the curry mango chicken. i was weary since it was hot outside, but ok. i got the lentils, rice, and lamb merguez with a yogurt sauce. both were insanely good.




hers wasnt too rich or thick. it was a light yellow curry and the chicken wasn't gross. plus the mango didn't overpower anything.



the sausage was amazing (if i had a nickel for every time i said that...). the lentils/rice were a bit soupy, but i got used to it after a few bites and actually liked that it wasn't dense.

we had to have a cappuccino afterwards, which tasted like CANDY it was so good, to finish watching the new york city drama unfold in front of us.

this guy

likes his tan. i first saw him last summer on prince and mulberry. it was the first time i saw a fire hydrant open. and there was this old man with his beach chair on the sidewalk with a a newspaper acting like he could have been at far rockaway or st. barts. either.

this same guy was about to set up camp at the hydrant in front of us. just as he places his green and yellow striped beach chair at the bumper of a chevy, in backs a range rover sport into the no parking zone in front of his oncoming temporary waterfall. THE GUY WAS PISSED. he spent at least 21 minutes on his cell phone (shirtless), pacing around the car, talking to the police department about an illegally parked vehical... i've been on the phone for 19 minutes--whaddya want? my fingerprints? my DNA? i'm calling about a fuckin cah, heyah.

so along walks a (super hot) FDNY guy. yielding a wrench so huge i would be turned on if he threatened to fix my leak. (gross). he not only opens the hydrant for this guy, but replaces a cap with the man's custom made cap with strategically placed holes so that a perfect spray hits just nearly have the street, with a smaller stream that flows into a doggie water bowl-which he provided. so not only does he do that, he also points the stream to hit the driver's side door of the range rover. everyone clapped! it was awesome.



of course when the douche returned to his black car, he and his goombah girlfriend just climed in the passenger side door. but come, they must have been just a little embarrassed.

barbossa is on mott btween prince and houston. they take cards.

little helpers

so cute. these little girls had a lemonade stand and bake sale, i guess as an exercise on how to embezzle money from charitable donations.

i kid, i kid. they were selling treats and then asked you which charity you would like your money to go to.
every fucking liberal fuck donated their money to obama for president...leaving the puppies and sick cancer kids in the lurch. not that liberals are fucks, just these ones. it's 3 quarters. can't you make a gesture towards something apolitical?

i gave to the sick cancer kids. my 75c will do great things. great things, i tell you.

the cookie was pretty good.

hoomoos asli

this israeli joint is on kenmare and lafayette(ish). i ate lunch with poo. poo is a friend of mine. both kinds.

despite the rings and long hair he ain't gay. he does things like ask you to kiss his cheek then turns at the last minute to catch your lips. or puts his hand under your butt when you sit down.

i love him.



we met at this place mostly out of laziness and and uninspiring group of restaurants left to blog about in soho.

i ordered the salad combo. you can choose three salads from a list of around 8. i got humus, israeli salad, and spicy moroccan tomato salad.

gross


gross


good.


the humus tasted like mud. zero zest whatsoever. the israeli salad tasted like bland cucumber. i tried adding salt but it didn't help. the spicy tomato one was good, but not good enough to make up for the other two. it was supposed to come with 3 pitas (as written on the menu) but i only got one.

the iced tea was excellent. i especially like the tumbler it came in with big ice cubes. like something in my childhood suburban kitchen.



poo poo had a chicken sandwich (schwarma) in a pita. with french fries stuffed in. the fries were good. thick homemade ones. not like the frozen ones all over town.

they take amex, but who cares. i won't go back. if you want good israeli, go to 12 chairs on sullivan. if you want good falafel, go to rainbow falafel on 18th and broadway or chickpea on 3rd ave and st. marks.

as we got up to leave, poo put on his sunglasses. woah, woah, woah, woah. oh. my. god. there are only a few men besides my father that can pull off blue blockers. and poo is for sure one of them.



i like to kiss poo.

prince street cafe

there are 3 restaurants in a row on prince that i have wanted to try. we sat down at jaques but were the only americans. since we didn't have a map and a camera or felt the need to order coke without ice, we hit the next one. looked a little sterile, so we kept going to prince street cafe.




we couldn't quite put our finger on the ambiance there. the decor was a bit late 90's, the menu was extensive, and the bathroom was out of toilet paper.



we each ordered the half soup/sandwich special. i the split pea and ham sandwich, she the butternut squash and smoked turkey.



the soup was really salty. and she got more in her bowl than i, so that was bothersome. the sandwiches were just...so...like, nothing. they weren't bad, they weren't good.


all in all, we won't go back. let's put it that way.

then a stroll in the beautiful weather and a latte at cafe gitan from the to go window.





this weather is unbelievable.

OMG i'm FAMOUS

the new york times used MY BLOG in the link to rockaway taco in a piece on david selig.

CLICK HERE

now, look for the "rockaway taco." then there i am!

awesome!

cafe colonial again

today is a great day, because after an hour or so of being a sourpuss, i ran into someone that is a sweetheart and made me smile again.

cafe colonial is fucking bullshit. we ordered that brazilian cheese bread and asked it to come first, they never came. we ordered 2 plates of brazilian beans. only one arrived. we ordered sweet potato fries, and instead came yucca fries. we told him that we didn't order that, that we ordered sweet potato fries. he said these were like sweet potato fries, cause yucca's are sweet.

floored, we proceeded to ARGUE with him that yuccas are not sweet potato fries. that sweet potatoes were orange. he insisted these were a close cousin.

are you fucking joking? if you ordered lamb chops and i brought you pork chops, i would never try to convince you that they were the same thing.

re.tard. re. tard. ed.

of course tod left him a 15% tip. i would have dashed on that shit.

poems

here are some poems i wrote once. don't laugh. i was stoned on ambien. years ago.

"still is only the love i one, maybe never but always anyway."

eh? ehhh? good right? ha.

"so all we have is now and later is not yet, but thoughts of later are now so we have that."

oh yeah, that's a winner.

great jones spa

my partner is hung over so all my dreams of vietnamese noodles went out the window.

went to great jones spa to their little health food place for a sandwich. they are so painfully slow. to manage the wait while they prepared my sammy i sat out on the curb in the sun. after what i considered ample time, i went in only to find they hadn't even started preparing it.

i ordered a chicken and avocado sandwich which is made of organic roast chicken, avocado, lettuce, sprouts, tomato, and veggieanaise on toasted 7 grain bread.



the chicken comes from a vacuum sealed bag, presliced. gross. so it's all slimy.

they forgot sprouts. the forgot salt and pepper.

the toast part was good.

oh, and they were giving away free green tee. so that made it not so bad.

proof

p.s. for those of you who don't belie'dat i did the rockaway bikini contest. check it.

matchmaker

if anyone knows him. i'd like to meet him. please.



i heard he doesn't shower which i think is the hottest thing ever. i love stinky armpits. not joking at all.