hate. hate. hates. hate. like. like.

My tonsils hate me for smoking.
My legs hate me for running.
My head hates me for drinking.

I hate the person who stole my moped.

I like this rock.


which over looks this. which i also like.

Rilo Kiley at Webster Hall/ Why dont Indie Kids in NYC dance?

Went to the Rilo Kiley show this past Sunday at Webster Hall..
---missed the first band Art in Manila on Saddle Creek due to pre-concert beer consumption. ----caught the 2nd opener Jonathan something? was good, solid folky indie whatever songwriter but nothing excitingly unique to write home about... or blog about.

Rilo Kiley however was a phenomenal time. great show. beforehand I was really hoping they would play mostly old songs and few from Under the Blacklight, their new record. I listened to the album many many times trying to get into it. A few songs sorta grew on me but none of them were the rilo kiley i know and love.

However, after seeing/hearing them perform the new stuff live, I am now sold on the record. It makes sense to me now. No, it's not the much loved lyrical treasures Jenny Lewis typically pens but they are super fun live tunes with some pretty outstanding intricate musical subtleties if you listen closely.

They opened the show with "It's a Hit" and for the most part varied back and forth between new and old songs. It was a really fun set. My only complaint would be the usual lame new york city crowd of indie kids who are either afraid to move/dance or just refuse to for whatever reason. So my friend and I were the only ones dancing, at least that we could see anyway. I could never comprehend standing completely still to live music you really enjoy... Someone clue me in?

Hanson?!

I walked by Webster Hall this evening at about 9pm on my way to see Transformers and there were about 2 dozen or more people camping outside so that they could be the first ones in when the doors open tomorrow night at 6pm or 7pm or whatever to see Hanson!! can you believe that?? Camping on the street in the east village of nyc, the night before a concert. HANSON??!! people still listen to Hanson? Really? sooooo crazy.

Thought of the day

I think my sub-conscious is a lot smarter than my conscious.

cinco de mayo

My Cinco de Mayo in Williamsburg this Saturday..

began with a moped ride from the East side to the South side, a quick nap, picked up a taco, then to my favorite little Spanish diner down the street for a Morir Sonando ("die dreaming"), a very tasty fresh squeezed orange juice beverage. I then took a walk on the Williamsburg bridge with my OJ, enjoyed the view and took a few photos. From there I hung out on a bench, took in the sun, and watched some local skateboarders. After too much of that I met up with my friend Matt. We walked down Bedford and stopped into the new Southside coffee shop, Oslo. I got a shot of Espresso. I read somewhere that if you really want to be a true coffee/espresso drinker then you shouldn't have milk after 11am. So no milk, no sugar... It was absolutely awful! Im not sure if it was the espresso or if I'm just not ready for straight up espresso yet. I think it was a bit of both.

So we continued along and arrived at Union Pool at about 5pm. In keeping with the cinco de mayo theme, we drank Sols. L Magazine was having a book release party there and thus had free chicken wings! We had our fill of wings and then headed out. It was getting chilly and Matt was sans hoodie so we walked over to a nearby thrift store. He ended up going with a blue and white striped track jacket over a red sweatshirt with duckies on it that said Nebraska! Very poor decision I think. Next stop was White Castle 2 doors down to use their restroom. I can't go to White Castle without having a burger and apparently Matt cant go without getting fries. So we ate again even though we'd just had free wings.

So I'd now traveled from E.Burg to S. Burg to Centralburg to E.burg again to then decide to take a trip to the Lower East Side and visit the Cake Shop for their 2nd anniversary. We caught the first band, who I'd heard a bit about before, Vampire Weekend. They're a relatively new NYC indie band from Columbia University. They were surprisingly very good, tight, unique sound with an abundance of very diverse influences, upbeat, and fun.

One would think we would call it a night from there... but instead we met up with my friend Louis. We left Cakeshop, I made a little sidewalk art on the way, hopped on the JMZ back over the river to S.burg. We met up with Jenny and some of her friends at Bembe for some Salsa dancing. We had some tequilla, got our dance on, and ended cinco de mayo... by then technically seis de mayo.

free stuff on craigslist

These are a few things that were posted in the "Free Stuff" section this week of New York City Craigslist. Everyone always says that NYC is so expensive, but look at all this great free stuff.. what more could anyone possibly want?

white doves that lay eggs, free immaculate conception uniform, bag of bolts, small yucca plants, dive flippers, dwarf hampster with all supplies, ping pong table, above ground pool, leopard print cloth wallet, pre natal vitamins, dirt, turtle food, land fill packed in bags to go from staten island, 1990 geo prizm, karate lessons, taxi partition, prom dresses for less fortunate girls, 10 large sacks of saw dust, church pews, diaper genie, Christian folk song CD, Bush great for privacy.must dig out yourself,

Bringin it back!

B cubed (Brooklyn Bladers Brigade) also known as R.A.D (Rollerblading Association of Dreams)are bringing rollerblading back and bringin it back strong.

RAD B3 is now accepting applications to join. 1 article of neon clothing required.

Midtown Midday on a Monday

It's Monday again and I'm back to the daily grind. It was an incredible long weekend with a much needed change of pace, but it's nice to get back into the swing of things.

Here are a couple notes for the day from my Monday Midtown excursion:

- The guys of UMGD are good people. Don't let anyone tell ya otherwise.

- Snapping in the air rapidly using both hands does wonders for emphasizing a point but beware for too much could wear you out.

Willy Burg Characters

New York City, particularly Williamsburg, truly has its share of characters. In the midst of a rather uneventful weekend aside from getting way too trashed Friday night at Bembe and the East River Bar, and picking up some old school red Nikes at a thrift store for $15, I found myself encountering quite a few of these characters. I'd say probably about 5 in total, but here are three...

1. THE LONELY DIVE BAR DUMMY - a staggering unattractive fellow, drunk on 32oz beers served in styrofoam cups, approached my friends an I. In an attempt to initiate conversation he asked in complete sincerity without trying to be funny or ironic, "So... you come here often?" He entertained us so we kept going back and forth with him. He tried desperately to keep the wheels turning in his big intoxicated head to keep up the conversation. I asked him "So... what else you got??" He thought long and hard I assume, even though his stare seemed pretty vapid. He finally said that he knew three jokes. Of course I wanted to hear. He told 2 which I've forgotten now and then told the third.. "Would a warewolf always be a warewolf if it lived on the moon?" That, he said, was his best joke.

2. CRAZED GAS STATION ATTENDENT FROM STRANGE UNDISCERNABLE FOREIGN COUNTRY - I pulled up to a gas station to fill up my moped tank. i slid my card, prepaid $1.50 (small tank) and proceeded to fill up. $1.20 ended up being enough and I didn't care to get my change so I got ready to leave when the gas station attendant came out of his little gas office and asked me in a very heavy accent if I got a receipt. I figured he wanted to give me my change. I said I'd just hit the no receipt button because I didnt want one. He said "I need. I need receipt. you not alowed to touch!" So i said "excuse me im not alowed to touch what? I paid and Im leaving." He yelled, "where's proof? you no leave!? me - "sir. I dont know what you're talking about. I paid. Im leaving." Him - "NO!" It went back and forth like this for a a bit. He said stirnly "You NO go! I check computer. you stay!" I waited a moment to humor the very strange and now very heated man. He walked back into the little gas office, apparently checked the computer and waved me on to go. I went.

3. THE ARTIST/POET - met at a bar while with some friends. he wore tight dark expensive clothes. while others danced and drank, he sat in a dimly lit corner introspectively contemplating the heavy troubles of the world, his world. He worked hard to keep up a facade of deep mysteriousness but transformed out of his cloak of troubled artist into wide eyed horny obnoxious dude when the potential opportunity arose to see 2 girls kiss.

open bar...wack

I seem to get dragged very often these days to various CD release parties with the seemingly enticing persuasive tactic "there's going to be an open bar!" Most of the time the bar is so packed that it takes you forever to get a drink or the booze isn't so good. Nevertheless it's free so you take what you can get.

The other night I went to one of these CD release/open bar events at a club called LIT in the East Village. Maybe it's that I've been to one too many of these but I do believe that it was the WORST open bar ever. For my first blog ever, I will rant about this evening.

I arrived at the venue at about 10pm, said some hellos, shook some hands of new faces, listened to some blah music and waited around for an hour with a dry throat waiting for the promised open bar to commence. At the stroke of 11, I walked upstairs to the bar to quench my thirst. There was one very frustrated and pissed off, long haired, troubled rock and roll dude bartending and lots of petulant scenester drunks trying to get there hands on some free booze. I waited and waited at the bar. The open bar was limited to the most shitty excuse for vodka Ive ever tasted. I'm no vodka connoisseur by any means but i knew this particular brew was funked. To make things easy, since the people I was with wanted to mix their vodka vile with cranberry juice, i chose to do the same. So when the dirty haired tender of bar came near I quickly spurted out "3 vodka and crans please!" Finally after the very long wait to be served standing behind the posse of obnoxious pseudo ghetto naughty by nature/de la soul cross breeds, I held in my hand a kiddie-sized plastic cup filled about 3/4 of the way with glowing red liquid that would surely dye my insides a few shades brighter towards neon. No matter, I'd waited and I was looking forward to the first sip. I put my lips to the teeny stirring straw peeping out of the teeny cup and sucked in a mouthful of the concoction. Now i know i already told u about the barely palatable vodka, but if you could believe it, the cranberry juice, if you could call it that, was actually worse. It was like pure liquid sugar with a dash of cran-esque artificial flavoring that made me shake and shiver all over uncontrollably. If one wanted to train a very very young girl to ween off of an over concentrated Koolaid addiction and onto alcoholism, this particular drink might be a good one to start with. After a few sips i said out loud "awwww its like little Suzie's first mixed drink." This made me smile to think about alcoholic 7 year olds, which made things a bit better but overall in summary....

the open bar was wack!