I hate Manure*

First bit of news: You just know it's gonna be a funtastic** day when your first moments at work is spent in the bathroom cleaning off the horse shit from your shoe. Stupid mounted Police. There should be a special squad dedicated to following the horses around and cleaning up the manure.

Though I guess it's a little bit my fault not watching where I was walking. I mean, it was a big steaming pile of shit in the middle of the sidewalk. How did I miss that? Seriously?

Second bit of news: I applied to my current dream job on Monday and I know that I'm not gonna get it; probably won't even get interviewed, though I'll be on edge for the next week or so. The job: Assistant Editor for DC Comics. It wasn't a random sending of Resume; they have that listed as a position they are trying to fill on their Job Listings on timewarner.com (that's the parent company). I also applied for an administrative assistant position for the creative services dept. at Marvel Comics (as listed on Monster.com). Not exactly my dream job, but one I'd snap up in a heartbeat. God, I need a real job. So keep your fingers crossed kiddos.

Third bit of news: For all you TV junkies out there. Why aren't you watching Battlestar Galactica? I just saw the third season Premier. Holy Jesus. Best Show On Television. It blew my mind. Take everything that's good about Lost, then take away all the annoying crap, then multiply it by ten and that's how good Battlestar is. If you like Lost, or any Lost styled show (Heroes, The Nine, ect.) then you really should be watching Battlestar. It's quite possibly the best, smartest, most suspenseful, action packed and thoroughly engaging show on TV outside of Deadwood. Nothing else I've seen so far this season has even come close to being as good as Battlestar. Watch it, you'll get hooked.



*Kudos to anyone who got this mildly obtuse refrence to Back to the Future. You're just as big as a dork as I am. Good for you.
**Funtastic = Fun + Fantastic. A portmanteaus word for those curious.

because I only blog about music for some reason

OK, that isn't really true but my horizons are being expanded and I've decided to share with all of you.

You ought to thank Dorothy (who still doesn't know about my secret crush) from Cat and Girl because I wouldn't have found this otherwise.

And now, here is my favorite song of the moment (who knows what it'll be tomorrow?).

Enjoy.

Oh, yeah, the band, it's a chinese band called My Little Airport. The song is a remix, but I like their regular stuff too (at least the stuff I was able to hear on their website).

I don't know whether to Laugh, Cry, or Crap my pants in sheer Terror

To all of you who wonders what the true face of evil looks like, I give you Prussian Blue.

Aren't they just adorable?

Aside from any other idealogical problems I might have, I have to admit, this article brings front and center a demon of mine I need to get out in the open. As one who wouldn't have been considered white forty years ago (and there still are country clubs I can't get into because they don't consider me white) I have also been concerned about the quality of white babies being in decline.

And if you are interested you can buy those cute smiley face t-shirts Here

Don't even get me started on what their band name is a reference to (also check under this wikipedia entry).

And for those of you who just can't get enough of those wonderful girls, I give you their Homepage. Revel in teenie bopper hitler folk rock insanity.

Now if you'll excuse me I have to decide whether to kill myself or kill everyone else. Frankly, based on my mood right now, I'm leaning towards the latter.

Dear jerks on the New Jersey highways who cut me off in the passing lane then slowed down

Don't Do That! God I hate New Jersey. It's a fine place to be from, but I honestly have no idea why anyone would want to live there.

So the internet in my house hasn't been working, which explains my absense from the blogosphere (grahh! I can't believe I actually used that term and that I am considering myself part of it. I think I might need this t-shirt from here - second one down). Anway, I'm back and good to go.

Stuff happened, but we move on. Saw J_ this past weekend. Visited her up at her college (Upstate NY - five hour drive). Felt very old when hanging out with one of her freinds who still needs to wear braces. It's funny, when I was there I had a very hard time falling asleep in her bed being that it was a dorm room bed and not nearly big enough for the both of us to sleep in comfortably. But when I got home, last night, I found I had an equally hard time falling asleep without her next to me. Irony abounds.


For those curious, the newest draft of my screenplay TALES FROM ATOM CITY has been uploaded on Triggerstreet.com. I plan on finding some compititions to send said script out to, only I wanted the feedback just to make sure that it is solid.

If you would like to read said script, I have found a way around the Triggerstreet system and just by CLICKING ON THIS LINK* you will be directed to an online pdf version of the script.

Once again, just CLICK ON THIS LINK**

This is a limited time offer. I plan on taking down the link in one week from today, just because I get to nervous having my work uploaded all over the place. It is a wga registered script (which is akin to getting it copywritten) but still, I get nervous. Thus, if you care to read it, and you are under no obligation to do so, I hope you enjoy.

Oh yeah, terms of note: INT.=Interior; EXT.=Exterior, I/E.=Both Interior and Exterior (the director gets to choose which parts of the convesation are filmed from which angle); MONTAGE = a series of shots juxtaposed to tell a larger story; (V.O)=Voice Over; (O.S)=Off Screen. And I think that's all you need to know. And for those curious, the general rule of thumb is one page in a script = one minute of screen time.

And I goofed on the title page. It says "Something into Nothing" which was the old working title. Tales From Atom City is the new working title. If any of you actually do read this, and have a brilliant idea for a real title, please let me know. I am crap when it comes to coming up with titles.

Cheers for now.

*Though it took me a while, I finally followed through on my threat (or reward depending on whether or not you liked the script) and the link has been taken down.
**See previous footnote.

Land of the Frozen North at Summertime

Right then.

As you have probably already learned from Rawbean's Rant I was in Winnipeg this past weekend. I was thinking about posting about my travels earlier in the week, yet found myself without the time to sit down and actually write it all down. This has been my first moment since returning home with the time and energy both to give a faithful account of my travels. So, without any further ado, here we go.

Outside of stories, one's life doesn't so much work in circles. Granted there are cycles that occur in life (as we all know history does repeat itself), but I am speaking more in lines of the circles one finds in works of fiction. The fact that I can bookmark this story, giving it a strange circular quality, both pleases and concerns me.

Regardless, it starts:

Seven fifteen Friday morning at LaGuardia airport I saw a woman who shouldn't be allowed to dress herself and then go out in public. Maybe five feet tops, wearing bright pink, yellow, blue and purple socks with "cute" cats and dogs sheathed in black rubber sandals. Her black pants, seemingly Capri, would fit like regular pants had she not worn them pulled up to her ribcage (thus making her ass seem as if it was the same length as her legs). Into the those pants she had tucked in a light pink cotton shirt. She was skinny, with short cropped grey hair, no older than sixty-five, no younger than fifty, with a very severe face - as if she was both frustrated and confused, not so much by anything specific but by the world around her - and all the time. I'm guessing she was a hippie back in the day and is now frustrated that the world has passed her by and who has yet to learn how to dress like a person.

This woman, who was taking her sweet time trying to figure out how to use the electronic check in machine, bothered me to no end. Each time she touched the electronic screen she hastily withdrew her fingers to her bosom, as if the machine would bite off the tips of her fingers if she lingered too long.

I just wanted to check my luggage and sit down. It was an early flight, and I'd been up since six thirty. I was already in a bad mood as I had been the day previous; J_ was already up in Syracuse for school having left Thursday morning. I figured this to be the start of a very long, long weekend.

The trip itself is uneventful otherwise. From LaGuardia to Toronto, and from Toronto to Winnipeg. We land (we = me and my mom) and we walk over to a different gate to meet up with my friend Jason. Then we (we=the three of us) walked over, picked up our rental car, and drove into the city.

Then the eating commenced, and it didn't end until my departure from Canada. First there was a dinner at the bride's house hosted by her parents. It was a small affair, the bride's immediate family, the groom's immediate family, and any other out of town guests (said out of town guests consisted solely of myself, Jason, and my mother). Dinner consumed, we realized it was time to drive to the Rabbi's house before the Sabbath started (my mother is more religious than I am and won't drive on the Sabbath).

Brief interlude: I was scared I'd be spending more money than I had on travel and accommodations. Luckily, however, there is a bond among Rabbis. My father was in the same graduating class as the local Rabbi in Winnipeg back when they both graduated from rabbinical school. Though they weren't ever really close, and though they hadn't really spoken in about twenty years or so, after receiving an e-mail from my mother he said "Of course you can stay with me." End interlude

The Rabbi's house was a bit of a mess (by bit read "extremely messy") but it's understandable, as he had just returned home from vacation and his children were both in the midst of getting ready to go back to college. In any case it was but the Rabbi and his eldest son home that weekend. They waited until the Sabbath to start the Sabbath meal and once again we ate dinner (that's two dinners on Friday night).

Saturday we went to services at the synagogue for the ufroof (a Jewish tradition where the groom - and now our more egalitarian times bride and groom - are called up to the the torah and say a special blessing on the Sabbath before their marriage) and stayed for the luncheon afterwards. It was nice, a few salads: egg, tuna, and Caesar; with of course the needed (it was a Jewish affair) bagels and cream cheese. I don't want to insinuate that I'm some sort of bagel snob, but I was very disappointed with Winnipeg bagels. They tasted less like bagels and more like regular bread just cut to look like a bagel. Still the bread they tasted like was good bread and I enjoyed my lunch. Unbeknownst to Jason, and me the Rabbi was having a lunch afterwards at his house and invited over a few more guests.

So back we went to the Rabbi's for a second lunch. I ate less of this lunch being it was Chili with Italian sausage. This second lunch ran long. The rabbi, a very friendly man, is also a man who enjoys a ritualistic formality. Before the meal we made kiddish (the traditional Jewish blessing over wine before Sabbath meals) over scotch instead of wine and took our time sipping our drinks and shmoozing. Then we moved onto a course of turkish salad, humus, and pita and Challah (a jewish egg bread which if you've never had, you're missing out). From there, when we finished those appetizers, we moved on to the main course, the previously mentioned chili and salad.

Lunch was a good two hours long, if not a bit longer, when my mother and I had to excuse ourselves early. The rehearsal dinner was at the Old Spaghetti Factory in the Forks, about three and a half miles away, and being that my mother won't drive on the Sabbath we decided to walk there, leaving at 3:30 an hour before the event was scheduled to start.

We were all warned that to walk from the Rabbi's house to the Forks we'd be walking through the bad part of town. The "dangerous" part of Winnipeg. Jason claims this is just me and my mom being NY snobs (something I took to offense being that I haven't even lived here a year, and regardless how long I live here, I will never really consider myself a New Yorker) that we thought comparatively, how dangerous could Winnipeg really be? I can't speak for all of Winnipeg all the time, but this particular "bad" area on main street through which we walked, was not dangerous at all - at least not at three-thirty in the afternoon under a clear blue sky and bright hot sun.

We got there a little late, but still before many people who were only staying in the hotel across the street, and about two hours after we finished our second lunch, began to eat our dinner.

After dinner we hung out in the forks until sunset (when the Sabbath ends) and then drove my mom back to the Rabbi's so she could meet up with friends she has in Winnipeg. At the Rabbi's house I then, feeling a bit nervous and awkward called Rawbean. And so we met at the Second Cup coffee shop in Osborne village. Osborne village = the small hipster area of Winnipeg.

For the record (specifically to those who do read Rawbean's rant): My name is pronounced pretty much how she said, only it isn't a soft H but a hard one, as if you had something caught in your throat. A bit guttural, very hebrew/arabic sounding. It's not that I prefer "Ami" (Ah-me) rather it's much easier for people to say. I can't really think of a single person who calls me by my first name, family included. I just generally sign my name "Amichai" because too often if I just write "Ami" people think it's a strange spelling of "Amy" and assume I'm a girl. I am not a girl (though I do enjoy watching "The Gilmore Girls" and "Grey's Anatomy"). And I don't have an accent, everyone else has an accent, I speak just fine. And I'm living in Queens, not Brooklyn, but that is really neither her nor there (well it's actually Here and not There, but you know what I mean).

Rawbean was nice, and it wasn't strange meeting her. Every so often it was odd realizing that this very nice Canadian girl behind the blog I read so often. But other than that it was a very pleasent evening, and a very chill way to spend my time after doing so much the previous two days.

The wedding the next day was nice, though Jason and I were seated and the strange cousins table. The wedding and reception both were held in the synagogue and was about 96 people total. There wasn't a lot of dancing going on and most people there were family, the bride's family to be specific. The groom had his immediate family there, an aunt, and me and Jason and my mom (and two of the groom's mother's friends who were also friends with my mom, all from the same town I grew up in).

And again we ate. And ate. And ate. There was a lot of food going on. We hung out, felt strange at the awkward cousins table, made more polite small talk than we ever felt we'd be capable of, and then retired to our hotel room. The Rabbi was off driving his son back to college so for our final night in Winnipeg we stayed at the Hampton Suites hotel on the recommendation of Rawbean (and it was very nice, so for that I must take this moment to thank Rawbean for her advice).

Jason and I were exhausted and we just dropped into our respective beds and watched Canadian television. Well actually we stopped on TBS and watched the Mummy, but it was in Canada so I'm gonna say it was Canadian television.

Four hours pass and it's time once again to head to the bride's family's house for a smaller after party for those who couldn't make the wedding (ie. weren't invited due to monetary reasons) and the out of towners who were still in town. We knew left overs would be served, but said left overs turned out just to be the desserts. Not so bad, so we ate dessert with out a dinner. It was a very nice time. The Brides' father grew up in some small farm in Saskatchewan and his whole family's idea of a good time is to sit around, pull out their instruments, and play bluegrass and country music. I'm told someone even yodels in Yiddish, but either it never happened or it only occurred after I left.

Still, for some reason feeling we needed to eat some more, Jason and I went back out to Osborn village and got some food at the Billabong.

Again, woke up early the following day to catch my flight. Delayed transferring in Montreal and finally arrived home around five o'clock on Monday afternoon.

There I stood, next to my mother waiting for our luggage to go around the little carousel at LaGuardia. My mother on her cell phone telling my father that we finally arrived. Bored, tired, cranky, lacking the constant flow of either food or activities thus reverting back to the missing of J_, I turned around. Who did I see standing behind me? None other than that strange woman who started the whole thing.

This time dressed far more sensibly. I couldn't help but smile and wave hello.

I kinda wish I had a camera so I could post pictures

Princess Pessimism once remarked that my life, i.e my blog - to her - reads like a movie. I don't know exactly how I feel about this, but now that thought is in the back of my mind as I write this post. (if you are curious why she thinks this, I believe said notion was derived from this post)

Movie or no, this weekend I took a trip with J_ to Boston. First because I missed the darn place, and second because J_ had never been to Boston previous. I had no car available to me that weekend thus we took the Chinatown Fung Wa bus. Simply put it's a bus that goes from Chinatown NY to Chinatown Boston (well South station Boston, though it used to go direct to Chinatown). It's reletivly nice, and it's only 15 bucks one way, cheaper than any other bus line that I know.

Once again traffic sucks. It took us five and a half hours to get from city to city, which is at least an hour and a half too long. Damn you again interstate 95 and your incessant construction. But we were smart enough to take the noon oclock bus and still arrived before dinner time.

The Plan: stay with my freind Jeff. Jeff's plan, help his freind Jim move into a brand new house (Yay for Jim, first time home owner!). Jeff wouldn't be back into the city until later that evening giving us ample free time. J_, having hated being cooped up for so long, insisted that we walk around for the next five and a half hours to make up for the five and a half hours spent on the bus.

I love Boston, I really do, which is why I had no problems walking around downtown and into some other neighborhoods. I decided she'll get a nice walking tour of my old stomping grounds, where I used to hang out.



Ok, we started at South Station, which is kinda where the big Route 93 icon is above Chinatown. We walked down Boylston through Chinatown, around and through the Commons and the Gardens, down Beacond street to Berkely, then back up Beacon, walking down Charles street through Beacon Hill. We then took Cambridge street up to Government center (City Hall) and through there to Faniuel Hall/Quincy Market. That was about two hours of walking so far. I shared stories about my dorm life at Emerson College (I lived at both 80 Boylston St. and 132 Beacon st. - which they don't have a picture of on their website for some reason). Told her the story and pointed out the spot where I was mugged on the Commons my sophmore year (it's actually a funny story, remind me to tell it sometime if I haven't already). I showed her my favorite Pizza place (Nino's on Charles St.) some of the really nice apartments I'll never be able to afford on Beacon Hill, and the various different spots in China town we used to hit (i.e. the ones that wouldn't card us before we were of age).

We kinda stalled out in Quincy Market. J_ was hit by sudden dehydration and felt miserable. Thus, we hung out in Quincy market for quite some time, watching the street performers, sitting down, while J_ drank many bottles of over priced bottled water, and I managed to get a little food in her (a fruit cup and some samosas).

From there we worked our way up into the North End. For those of you not familiar with Boston, the North End is the Italian neighborhood. I didn't normally go to the North End back when I lived in Boston only because the T (the subway system in Boston is called the T) doesn't go directly there.

As we walked down North street we heard music coming from up ahead. We suddenly found ourselves in the midst of the Fisherman's Madonna festival in the North End. The streets were blocked off to cars, and were lined with countless booths selling pizza, italian sauseges, fresh canoli and other italian pastries (though mostly canoli) and games and other odds and ends. In the center of it all, a big Italian cheesball and his band, playing all the favorite Frank Sinatra standards, and other modern jazz classics (I believe he covered a few songs by Harry Conick Jr. and a decent Cherry Poppin Daddies song as well). The streets were lit up, the music was up tempo, and it really was very nice. We completely lucked out.

We strolled the booths, J_ ate a very rich canoli made by a woman who goes no other name save "The Canoli Girl"; leading me to believe she is some sort of superhero, though at the same time forces me to wonder who her arch nemisis is, Marzipan Man?.

We walked around, ate, and (yes this is corny) even danced to the music of "Sweet Caroline" on the street. I wish I could say other people were also dancing, but we were the only ones that I saw. We were just fooling around, having some fun. It was pretty sweet. Good times, Good times.

We adjurned to Jeff's place, taking the T (the B green line) from Government center to Packards corner (on the map below it's where Brighton Ave grows out of Commonwealth Ave).



That really was the best night. The next day we walked around cambridge. I'd relate it to you, but it's pretty uneventful and I'm too lazy to go into details now, especially reading over what I have so far, I realize that this is pretty boring if you weren't there with me. Still, we walked around harvard, down then across the river, walking up Storrow Dr. Then back over the River onto River street straight to Central Square. From Central we too the bus up Prospect and down Hampshire to Inman Square and got Dinner at Buckowski's (good eats, great beer selection). Then we took the bus home.

The end. I had a great time and even though I did a horrid job relating it to anyone who might be reading (and if you've even got this far I'm sorry to have put you through all this).

On another note, the shirt J_ had made for me (the one I'm wearing in my avatar) is up for Neighborhoodie of the week at Neighborhoodies.com. You should all go to this site:
http://neighborhoodies.com/catalog/notw_vote.php
Right now and vote for it. Remember, vote early and vote often and we just might have a chance for this meaningless title. Tell your freinds.

I am a mother pheasant plucker

I'm all for a cease fire, and for peace in the middle east and all that Jazz. I really am. I am not going go all Political here - mostly because I don't have access to the sources I want to reference, and I can't put out any info without the proper sources to back said info up.

Thing is, and this is the part that is really fucking my shit up, in all the talks for a cease fire, and all the war protests I've read about in the papers, why is no one even talking about the release of the kidnapped Israeli soldiers that blew up this powederkeg?

And what ever happened to that kid (yes I know he is a soldier, but I don't think he's even 20 yet) who was kidnapped in Israel and is being held in Gaza?

What the fuck is wrong with the world?

But good. There is now a cease fire. But what's the next step?

Things that amuse me

This is not photoshoped. These melons do exist. They're real, and they're amazing.

Oh those crazy Brits. Honestly I just don't get the idea of royalty. It just seem so anachronistic.

Because everything's funnier when it involves testicals. Don't try to deny it, you know this to be true.

And speaking of testicals, if you don't believe me about the melons then you are definitely not going to believe this.

And last but not least, for your viewing pleasure (and yes I know this has been around for a while, but I just learned about it) I give you my new Hero:




That is all, be entertained, and be happy.

Mystic-fied

This past weekend I took a short trip just to get out of the city with J_. I took my folks car (with their permission of course) picked J_ up from Starbucks and off we headed from Douglaston, Queens, up to Mystic, Connecticut.

First off, traffic sucks. We got a late start and managed to leave around 2 in the PM. First off, the mix CD I made didn't work. I accidentally made an MP3 CD which wouldn't play in my regular CD player. So that blew. And then J_'s iPod decided not to work and that also blew. J_ doesn't so much like a lot of my CD's because my music isn't very happy (a good deal of indie rock, and we all know how happy Death Cab or Neutral Milk Hotel and the Dresden Dolls really are).

I shall list the tracks of the mix CD here as I put some time and effort into it, and, though it isn't the best mix CD, it is happy music (mostly) and I want to share. If I knew how to upload the music itself I'd do that, but I don't know how, you'll have to be satisfied with the song titles instead.

1. The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song - The Flaming Lips
2. Mambo Sun - Eszter Balint (covering the Marc Bolan original)
3 ? (I don't know, it's some ska song I stole from my brother's computer, it was untitled)
4. Lupin the 3rd - The Tokyo Ska Jazz Orchestra
5. Circles (live bootleg) - Soul Coughing
6. Comfort Eagle - Cake
7. The Peter Gunn Theme song - Henry Mancini
8. Jaan Pehechan Ho - Mohammad Rafi (from the Ghost World Soundtrack)
9. Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained - Huang Sheng Yi, Raymond Wong, Lin Xi (from the Kung Fu Hustle Soundtrack)
10. Summer: III Presto - Vivaldi
11. Coin-Operated Boy - The Dresden Dolls
12. Angle with an Attitude - The Ditty Bops
13. God is a DJ - Pink (Don't judge me people! It's happy music)
14. Soft Revolution - the Stars
15. I wish I was a Punk Rock Girl (with flowers in my hair) - Sandi Thom
16. (Love is) What I Got - Sublime
17. Stuff that I like - Brak (From the Brak show on Cartoon Network)
18. Rockin' the Suburbs - Ben Folds
19. Dreaming of You - The Coral
20. Someone to Watch Over Me - Ella Fitzgerald.

So instead we listened to some Israeli 90's rock I had (a great band called Monica Sex which has since broken up - boo!). Then the radio. The ride, which really shouldn't have been more than three hours, took a little over four hours of bumper to bumper traffic. Grah interstate 95!

When finally got to our hotel (Cedar Park Whirlpool Suites - our room was not as nice as those pictured) I was a little nervous as the exterior really isn't the nicest in person. But it turned out to be a really nice, cozy place to stay. The staff was great and friendly, and even the other guests were nice. So that was a nice surprise.

We wanted to walk around Mystic but alas, it was raining, thus we we went straight for dinner.

As I hadn't done any real research on where to eat or anything like that, we just stopped at the first nice place we saw. This happened to be the "Seaman's Inn" (and because you are all upstanding readers I shall refrain from all the horrible dirty puns I shot, rapid fire, at J_ while we were parking). It was right by the Seaport, and had Tofu Pad Thai as the vegetarian option.

Note to anyone traveling anywhere. Maybe it's because I'm spoiled having lived in Boston, and now in NY, but I'm used to good Pad Thai. For future reference, don't order Pad Thai from a New England pub known for it's fresh seafood and chowder. It's just a bad idea. Pad Thai should only be consumed from real Thai restaurants, and that's all I'll say on that matter.

We managed to find a Starbucks (every time I think I'm out they pull me back in) and found they had all sorts of pastries we don't get. We ordered our drinks and then took a walk around the very small shopping center where the Starbucks was found. I lucked out and found a Van Heusen store with a huge sale. I got a really nice shirt and tie for only twenty bucks total, which is pretty outstanding in general, and even more so compared to most sale prices I see here in the city. NY is so freaking expensive.

We drove back to the Hotel, watched the end of Monk, and the new show Psych on USA. Psych is really a poor man's Monk. It's cute but not nearly as good.

Anyway, aside from the fact that I'm horrid in bed, there really is nothing more to tell you about until the following morning.

We slept in and missed the complimentary breakfast, which kinda sucked as I didn't want to go out and try and find a good breakfast place somewhere else.

We spent the morning in a huge tourist trap of sixty shops in an area set up to look like an old New England Village. If you ever go to Mystic it isn't worth your time.

Then it was off to the Mystic Aquarium. Here is what I learned at the aquarium (which really is pretty nice, though a bit small, on the plus side most of it is outdoors):
- Poison Dart Frogs get their names because natives would rub darts on the frogs to get the poison mucus secreted by the frog onto the darts.
- Sea Horses use their tails to grab onto seaweed and such to prevent being washed away by the current.
-Sea Horses have a series of rigid circular bones that keeps them upright as they swim.
-Many Bats aren't blind; some even have better vision than humans.
- The Electric Eel can release an electric charge with enough energy to bake a pie and do a load of wash in the dryer simultaneously.
- Beluga Whales use the weird dome thing on their head to make the many sounds they make to communicate.
- Sea Lions are a lot bigger than I though they were (weighing up to 2500 pounds).

I think that might be it. Also, if you are walking around under the sun for a long time, wear sunscreen. Technically I knew this already, but I wasn't wise enough to actually use said knowledge to my advantage that day.

After the Aquarium we headed straight to Friendly's. Why Friendly's you may ask instead of say, a local restaurant? Well screw you! I don't need to answer your questions. Stop Judging Me!

Really though, I grew up on Friendly's, it was a huge part of my childhood, and J_ had never in her life been to one. Thus, Friendly's - at least in my mind - was an imperative.

Full of ice creamy goodness, we headed towards the seaport, which we then learned closed at five (the time was 4:40).

Since we had plenty of time to kill (we were in no rush to go home) we headed into downtown.

Gosh darn if that isn't what we should have done first. For some reason I thought the cheesy faux New England village was the downtown. I was wrong. The Downtown was much nicer. We walked around, checked out the shops, hung out at a park by the docks on Mystic River, and walked around some more through the general neighborhood checking out the old (well mid-1800's old) houses. They were really nice.

The neighborhood goes up a hill from the river. At the top of the hill there is a nice senior retirement community. Actually, I don't know how nice the community really is, but it sure looked nice. So nice we thought about cutting through the "emergency" path located on the side downwards, just to check out the nice lawn and such. We opted out of the shortcut in order to see more houses as we snaked our way back down towards the river.

We ambled further down the hill and saw a nice family owned funeral home. I thought to myself it would be funny in a movie or something if the "emergency" path from the retirement home led down to the Funeral Home. It's a bit dark, but J_ thought it was pretty funny. That is until we learned the truth: the "emergency" path really did lead down from the retirement home down to the funeral home. It was marked clear as day on the funeral home side. Feeling really bad, and cracking up at the same time, I wondered if the person was already dead, why was the path labeled "emergency"? It seems like once they are dead there are no emergencies anymore. Emergencies are the privilege of the living. Once you're dead, you have all the time in the world.

We almost got a slice at Mystic Pizza just because it was Mystic Pizza, even though J_ had never seen the movie Mystic Pizza. Sometimes I forget how young she really is. But we were full and went without.

Sun set, it was too cloudy to see stars, so we drove home.

The drive home took two hours.



Unrelated; I don't know if any of you have heard, but apparently it is rumored that Heath Ledger will play the Joker in the next Batman movie. I haven't figured out how I feel about this yet. Thoughts always welcome.

That is all, you may now resume your lives.

What was once all white but now red all over?

So i spent a nice weekend (well just friday and saturday) in mystic connecticut and am going to blog about it, only I got horribly sunburnt nnd am too much of a big baby to write about it now. I must continue to slather moisturizer all over my self to avoid the horrible pain.

oh the horror, the horror.

I wish I could tan. Unfortunately I go from bright pale to bright red, and then fade, not to tan, but to bright pale once again. Curse you fair and pale skin.

No news is... well kinda boring

First off, I don't know if anyone noticed, but I changed my Avatar. No more "WHY BOTHER" now you're all just stuck with an actual photo of me. That's right boys and girls, the new icon is my true visage. Notice the shirt I am modeling. It was a birthday gift from J_. She had it made special for me from Neighborhoodies. If you can't figure out the pictogram (and it took me a moment) the images are of Harpo Marx - check the bushy red hair and floppy hat - with a horn asking a question. For those of you unfamiliar with Harpo Marx well, I feel a bit sorry for you. If you would like to educate yourself on the hilarity that is the marx brothers I suggest you go here. Though the best way to learn is just to rent their movies. I would recommend Duck Soup, Animal Crackers, and Day at the Races. But they are all great.

And for the record, in the new avatar, the photo is not blurry. That is actually how my face looks. I have a very rare skin condition, which I'd really rather not discuss. If you don't believe me you can ask Piu Piu, she's seen me for real and can verify I look that blurry in person as I do in the photo.

And finally, we can scratch one off the list. I did recieve the new Dresden Dolls album yesterday. It has a bit more rock influence than their previous album which felt a bit more jazzy and punk. I prefer the previous album, but the new one is still very fun to listen too.

That is all for now.

Because I knew you were planning to already...

Tomorrow (July 22) will be my twenty-sixth birthday. I assume that all of you have prepared and purchased for me a birthday gift (wow what an awkward sentance!). But just in case some of you slackers have forgotten, here is a list of just a few things I would like to own.


T-shirt to be purchased here.


which can be purchased through amazon here TOO LATE, J_ GOT IT FOR ME.


15.4 inch 2ghz intel core duo, purchasable here


If you can't afford the entire thing, I'd be happy to take it in instalments. Be it through individual towns, all the way up to continents.


Honestly it'll probably be easier getting me the previous item on the list.

Holy Internet quizes

You Are Batman

Billionaire playboy by day. Saving the world by night. And you're not even a true superhero. Just someone with a lot of expensive toys!

What Superhero Are You?

What the hell does that mean "You aren't a true super hero. Just someone with a lot of expensive toys."? If Batman isn't a true super hero then I don't know what a super hero is. As far as I'm concerned Batman is THE SUPERHERO. Only a few others come close.* But I'm not going to show how much of a dork I am right now.**

No I didn't keep taking the quiz until I got Batman. Though I did take it a second time and chaged one answer and suddenly I was Electra.

Who ever knew Batman should be a joke writer?


*Flash will always be my all time favorite hero. I have been collecting Flash Comics since 1989, and after a lot of searching since then I have almost every flash comic since 1983, and I have a whole bunch or random flash comics from the 60's and 70's.
**Err, see the previous addendum. That pretty much shows it.

If it weren't for the internet I'd never know...

You Should Be a Joke Writer

You're totally hilarious, and you can find the humor in any situation. Whether you're spouting off zingers, comebacks, or jokes about life... You usually can keep a crowd laughing, and you have plenty of material. You have the makings of a great comedian - or comedic writer.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

Hooray pointless internet quizes. What better way to pass the time at work while learning the innermost secrets of one's soul.

Next I'm off to learn which superhero I am based on a very scientific five question quiz. Answers most certainly to follow.

Ami's reasons why not

To be honest I've kinda lost interest in blogging. Here, in no particular order, is a list as to why my interest has dropped.

1) Summer Movies. Superman, Pirates of the Caribbean, A Scanner Darkly, The Prairie home Companion. There is just so much time that exists in the day. And I have a horrid addiction to the cinema.

2) A mildly active social life. When I started blogging I had none, and now, I do. I'm not saying that one needn't have a life to be a blogger, far from it. Just that I'm a lazy, lazy man and if I go out, I am too lazy to blog afterwards.

3) Work. The bit at Tribeca is good (in fact that's where I'm blogging from right now), and not at all busy (thus the blogging right now part). It's Frappacino season at Starbucks. Being sticky and reeking of coffee is not so conducive to blogging.

4) So I think this is the real reason. I kinda, sorta, have a girlfriend now. And by "kinda, sorta" I mean I do have a girlfriend right now. I just feel weird using the word girlfriend. Especially since the girl in question is eight (seven and a half to be more accurate) years younger than me. And especially since she is going off to college come the end of August. A college, which - though in NY State - is far away enough that our relationship now has a potential expiration date when she leaves. Also because no one knows we are dating (well, three people do, but they don't count, no one else knows) and we are keeping it quiet (her decision, not mine - though admittedly it's one I very much agree with presently).

And that is really the problem. I'm trying to spend as much time with her as possible before she leaves. Which leads me to my next problem.

Last we spoke she was not in the best of moods. I tried to coax the reason out, but she remained silent. After a movie she confessed that she realized that though she didn't want to become too attached to me (for the reasons stipulated above, i.e college) she realized she probably won't be able to help it (yay me and my ladykiller like smooth moves) which will make leaving even harder.

I tried to play it off as cool as I could, talking about how more worrying = less fun right now. Something along the lines of we'll see what happens when it happens. Trying to keep everything relaxed and such.

There is, however, that very selfish part of me that wants her feeling attached to me, that wants it to be hard for her to leave. That desires that sort of attention. Mostly because it's gonna freaking kill me when she leaves. Hell, I wind up missing her on the few days we spend apart. I don't even want to think about when it's much more permanent.

Though I've really only had one serious relationship in my life, I'd like to think I have had my fair share of relationships in general. In the past, with the girls I've dated, I always felt like I was playing a role. Like if I dated her (all the various hers I've dated) long enough I would feel the way one is supposed to feel towards someone you're dating. Even the serious relationship I jumped into too serious too quick and said things I realized later I didn't really mean.

This is the first time I've actually been as happy as I thought I was supposed to be in my previous relationships. It's an odd sensation, and not one that I want to give up anytime soon. I'm not going to get all mushy, or use any grandiose terms, just suffice to say that I like J_ (the girlfriend) a lot, more than I think I have anyone before.

It's just our timing that sucks.



P.S. yeah, so I'm sick of these boring, serious posts. The next one (hopefully the next few) will be funny and interesting - or if nothing else at least funny. I'm getting sick of my dopey angsty mopey complaining crap. It's totally time to stop being that.

you should be watching

Nobody's Watching Part 1

Why this show wasn't picked up I'll never know. It was created by Bill Lawrence (he created Scrubs) and is freaking hilarious. Not like any other sitcom you've ever seen before, and exactly like every other sitcom you've seen.

To see parts two and three go here for part 2 and here for part three.

I'm boned

I think I might have broken my foot last weekend when I was in Philadelphia. Well, maybe more fractured than out and out broken as I have been able to walk on it all week. Not a serious fracture, but still, it hurts and isn't completely symetrical with the other foot (there is a bump on the left foot - the potentially fractured foot - that isn't on the right) and the bruise isn't healing as fast as I would like.

Thing is, I have no health insurance, I don't work enough hours at Starbucks to get it through them, and I can't afford it on my own. So I have to try and find a free clinic or something much cheaper than a regular doctor. My mom suggested just going to the emergency room.

My response (sarcastically): Yeah, because the emergency room doesn't charge a tremendous amount of money.

Her: Then what to people without medical insurance do when they go to the emergency room?

Me: They go into debt, which is why many people don't go to the doctor, they pay their rent and buy food instead.

Her: Oh.

So here I am about to try and find a free clinic or something that I can go to, because I don't want my foot to be screwed up for the rest of my life. And if I have to go to a regular doctor (not that I'm not saying free clinic doctors aren't real, because they are), I will. It's just that I probably won't be able to afford going to a doctor and getting all the x-rays and casts and everything, and then fly out to Winnipeg for the wedding I plan on going to.

So either way, I'm boned.

Shhh... I'm hunting Wabits

Brooklyn, for reasons beyond my understanding, remains a very romantacized borough in my head. Queens was never that mysterious, and Manahattan - though intimidating - never had that same romantic quality. Which is not to say there is no romance in Manahattan, there is plenty of romance about the isle; just not the same type of romance found to my south. Staten Island is plain and seems very suburban, while The Bronx holds no appeal to me what so ever. It's all about Brooklyn.

When I think of Brooklyn I can't help but picture every last Jewish New York story. In my mind they all occur in Brooklyn. And it's always the 1930's or 40's. This is partly due to Woody Allen and Martin Scorcese, but mostly due to listening to all my grandparents stories, and the stories of all the old men and women in my father's synogogue, hearing them regail about their youth in that particular boro. It reeks of the immigrant experience so much more so than the other boroughs, and as such, has a romanticized appeal. I can't really explain it.

Which is why I was so overwhehlmed yesterday walking on the Coney Island Boardwalk, then catching a Coney Island Cyclones game. Coney Island - the place where all our grandfathers took all our grandmothers (and potential grandmothers) out on dates; to ride the rides, see the sites, smell the ocean. The cyclone roller coster, or the wonder wheel ferris wheel, or the parachute jump whose name I don't know, and which has since closed down.

My foot still hurts, but I forced myself to walk around as much as I could, as if I was in some sort of magic wonderland rather than a mildly delapidated urban beach. The smell of the Original Nathan's hotdog stand (established 1916 - and if you've ever been to NY you know what Nathan's is) wafted through the salty air, causing me to desire to break my vegitarian habits and wolf down a hotdog with everything on it (well maybe not sourkraut).

I wish I could say that the Baseball game was exciting, but the Cyclones are a horrible, horrible team this year. They lost their first game to the the Staten Island Yankees 18-0, and last night lost again 5-2. So I guess they are at least going in the right direction. The park, however, was gorgeous, small, maybe 9000 seats, and not a single bad one in the house. We sat about seventeen rows up a little past first base but not quite yet right field. I really wish I was a better writer and could describe the experience in it's fullest and romanticized glory, but really I just had a good time.

Oh yeah, the reason for this posts title check this out.

I can't come up with good title

It's very sunny outside. It's sunny outside and I'm having a panic attack.

This morning was uneventful.

I ordered "the skeleton key" on HBO on demand. It wasn't very good.

It's sunny outside and I have to go to work in about a half hour.

I walked to the library. I need reading material for the ride down to Philadelphia this weekend. I walked because it's just that nice outside. It's really very nice.

I'm wearing new jeans that I think might be girl jeans due to the way the bottom of the legs are all frayed. They are only frayed in the front around the cuffs, not the back. It bothers me that pants now come pre-frayed, but that's not why I'm having a panic attack. It's just a little thing.

But it's sunny outside and as the pants fit pretty well, I'm not going to really worry as to whether they are girl jeans or not (I'm pretty sure not as they are maked 30 x 30 and not in some girl size). Soon I'm going to have to change my pants because I have to go to work and jeans are not allowed at Starbucks.

On the way home from the library, under the bright, bright sun, I had to sit down on the curb just to keep from hyperventilating.

I'm not an emotional guy, unless you count awkward as an emotion, then I'd be incredibly emotional. Really though I'm more dead pan. Not that I don't have emotions, I just don't really show them, doubly so when I'm uncomfortable and awkward (i.e the majority of my life).

I haven't been sleeping well all week. Lots of weird dreams. Most of them involve me running away or hurting people I love then crying about it, but that sounds lame and I'm not going to get into it.

I threw my back out on Sunday helping to clean out the garage (that's not a dream, it happened, though I wish it was only a dream). Apparently six encyclopidia judaicas are heavy and you shouldn't try to lift them all at once, especially not with your back. I learned that the hard way.

On Monday none of the other interns showed up at work and I was swamped. And my back hurt. But that really has nothing to do with the panic attack.

I opened on Tuesday, it's a pain, but not really a big deal.

Wenesday was fine.

Today it's sunny outside. It's been cloudy or rainy all week long and now it's sunny out. It's kinda cheesy really, but that has only a little to do with the panic attack.

Today, not so long ago, J_ called and asked if she could meet me outside. I brushed my teeth, changed out of my pajama's, turned off The Skeleton Key (I missed the last five minutes) put on some deoderant and walked out onto the front stoop.

J_, in my book is always adorable, and today was no exception.

Anyway, I've known for a little while that there is some guy out there with whom J_ is infatuated. She's mentioned said guy in the past but never who he was. Today I found out.

Today, under the bright sun, on my front stoop I found out it was me.

Her lips quivered and she did her best (and over all succeeded) to choke back emotion, as I sat her down.

"The thing is," I said, "I like you too. A lot. A lot a lot." I said in almost a complete deadpan. "But...." And I paused because I had no idea what to say next. Should I ask her out, should I leave it be? I'm eight years older than her. She just graduated high school last week.

"It's OK, you can say it, I'm a trooper." She said (and here is were she almost didn't succeed in choking back her emotion, but she is as she says, a trooper). And that was when my heart broke. I never before in my entire life wanted to grab onto someone and never let go like I did at that moment.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say." I said. She smiled, very encouraging. "But..." I continued still deadpan (damn I'm a jackass), "it doesn't freak you out I'm that much older than you, or that anything we might have has an experation date when you go off to college in the end of the summer?" Because those were the big concerns floating around in my head, two of the biggest reasons (the first more than the second) that I hadn't said or done anything before (also I'm a coward).

Apparently these were only my issues.

So I asked her out. And she said yes. And then I kissed her. And then she had to go because she was having lunch with freinds, and I had to go to the bank and the library, and buy a gift for my freind, all before I start work (in 12 minutes - I'm going to be late). So I'm calling her on Monday to arrange said date.

First I think I was a bit too forward with the kiss, and that's the first issue. The second, I'm eight years older than her and I feel like a skeeze. If I wasn't me I'd be making fun of me behind my back. It just seems wrong. So on my way back from the library I had to sit down because I was having a panic attack. Literally, I was hyperventilating and freaking out.

I finally got home, and called my freind Charlie, who helped talk me down. Charlie is possibly the coolest ever. "Well the fact that you feel so weird about it all is proof you aren't a skeeze." She said.

"Yeah, but what about when I stop feeling weird about it?"

And she laughed and didn't have an answer, which was cool, because I didn't call to get an answer and she knew t hat. Charlie is just cool that way, and I felt better after I hung up.

Then I wrote this post.

And now, still freaking out (but no longer in a panic attack), I have to change and run to work, and I wonder (as J_ and I work together) how much of this do my fellow co-workers know?

And I freak out all over again.

Because Rawbean asked

From August 25th until the 27th I shall be in Winnipeg, Manitoba. I have a wedding to attend (and I really should RVSP) on the 27th and I'm awfully excited.

And for any other stalkers who need to be updated as to my plans, I shall be in Phillidelphia from June 16th until the 18th for a bachelor weekend for the groom of the aforementioned wedding up in Canada.

Philly is all set, there's about five of us all crashing at a freinds place.

Canada is a entirely different sotry. I need to find cheap airfare to and then cheap accomidations while in the frozen north. I'm still waiting for the day when instant teleportation is both technologically viable and cheap enough for the public to use. That and flying cars. Man, that would be sweet.

Things to do before the wedding: find a good dry cleaners for my suit, get my shoes shined, and maybe buy a nice new shirt and tie. Also find out where they are registered (dear god please somewhere that has an outlet in Northeast USA) and buy a wedding present. But I still have plenty of time (said the hare right before he took a nap in the middle of the race).