But I WILL say this: watch tonight's Late Night with Jimmy Fallon (specifically when the band is playing) to witness the best birthday surprise ever... and it's not just a Cookie Puss (although I got one of those, too).
Showing posts with label New York. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Let's Birthday!
Yesterday was my birthday, but since I'm working crazy hours this week, I don't have the time to go into all the crazy antics just yet.
But I WILL say this: watch tonight's Late Night with Jimmy Fallon (specifically when the band is playing) to witness the best birthday surprise ever... and it's not just a Cookie Puss (although I got one of those, too).
But I WILL say this: watch tonight's Late Night with Jimmy Fallon (specifically when the band is playing) to witness the best birthday surprise ever... and it's not just a Cookie Puss (although I got one of those, too).
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Let's (Not) See The Little Mermaid! (II)
Sunday was the final performance of The Little Mermaid on Broadway, and eff it, I decided I was gonna buy those Standing Room Only tickets and see off Ariel nice and proper.
This is a chronicle of that fateful day.
6:00 a.m. I wake, confused and frightened, as to why my alarm would tell me to get up at such a god-awful hour. Then I remember why and say, "Eff it, I'm going back to bed." Sarah then says something like, "Time to go," and I come to my senses. It's time to go.
6:15-6:45 a.m. It's interesting seeing the few people riding the subway so early on a Sunday morning. A few of them are wearing hospital scrubs. One guy is asleep. We're all tired, and no one seems to have any idea about what's going on.
6:40 a.m. I arrive in Times Square, so empty and peaceful before the tourists wake up. Some deli man is scrubbing down the sidewalk in front of his store, a futile practice I've always found quaint.
6:45 a.m. I arrive at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre. I'm curious about the number of people that'll be waiting. This IS the final performance after all. Jeff had said he'd gotten there at 7:45, A FULL HOUR LATER, and was third in line. I wonder if I'll be so lucky.
There's just one woman there. I'm second in line.
Over three hours to go.
6:45 - 8:00 a.m. I sit on a very uncomfortable standing pipe (I don't want to sit on the damp concrete). I've brought several library books to pass the time, and read Disappearance Diary, an autobiographical manga of the time Hideo Azuma willingly went homeless/left his life as an artist and became a blue-collar worker/checked into a hotel for alcoholism.
It begins with, "This manga has a positive outlook on life, and so it has been made with as much realism removed as possible," which I find amusing.
8:10 a.m. I begin to text Sarah as a way of chronicling my experience. First text: Now they're saying the box office opens at noon... I'm cold and hungry.
Shit. Noon?
Also, I'm just wearing a t-shirt and shorts and haven't eaten in almost 12 hours.
8:52 a.m. I begin to question why i am doing this. There are six people here. Used to be seven.
9:05 a.m. Someone confirmed that the box office opens at noon.
9:28 a.m. Getting colder. Nine people are here now.
9:41 a.m. Right now i want to march around and sing 'Mammal' by they might be giants.
I can't help it. I'm cold and sitting on the pipe is very uncomfortable. I find doing these weird knee-lifts helps, despite making me look crazy.
9:51 a.m. I am cold!
10:00 a.m. And then, finally, the sun burst forth. Daylight. Such a wondrous thing. Hail Apollo!
The street turned into a beautiful, almost movie-like set, glistening with the morning sun. It was really something.
During this time I read A Few Perfect Hours... and Other Stories From Southeast Asia & Central Europe, and enjoy the final story, about the different attitudes toward death between the Balinese and New Yorkers.
It makes me think of Swiper. I'm glad his spirit has been set free. He had a big spirit - big enough to ride on.
I've been sitting here for over three hours and am losing my grip on reality a little.
10:02 a.m. The theatre speakers begin playing a 30-minute spiel about The Little Mermaid. Mostly song selections. This is a good idea for passing tourists, but a bad idea for people trapped in a non-moving line. Rather than getting me psyched, hearing "Part of Your World" several times makes me not want to see the show. It's just too much. And I usually LOVE "Part of Your World."
10:08 a.m. to 10:18 a.m. I text Bethany and tell her (because I'm a liar) that Sarah plays one of Ariel's sisters. She believes me, and I text her that she also understudies as Sebastian. I think she believes this, too, and when I admit that I'm making this up, she says, "Yeah, I was wondering how she could pull that off..." since Sebastian is traditionally played by a black man.
10:29 a.m. Ten of us. The speaker has repeated its spiel once.
During this time I read some of From Hell. The juxtaposition of this book and my mission amuses me.
10:38 a.m. Thirteen people.
10:40 a.m. Fourteen people.
10:54 a.m. Sixteen... Almost at the limit of twenty or so.
I get a grim delight in thinking of the people who show up for tickets but won't be able to get them because they arrived too late. Sucks to be you, suckers!
10:54 a.m. Starting third time the speakers have played.
Apparently I've lost my mastery of the English language.
11:00 a.m. Sarah shows up with a sandwich and a sweater. I had a feeling she'd do this (since she asked me where I was. I just replied "In front of the theater"), and it's good to have company in the last leg of the journey.
12:00 p.m. The box office opens, and we are told there are no Standing Room Only tickets.
Everyone stands, jaw agape, at the unfairness of this situation. We were told there would be SRO tickets, so we did our part. We waited in line (FOR OVER FIVE HOURS). We braved the cold and the damp and the never-ending speakers. We have our money. We did our duty. We deserve tickets.
They disagree. The only alternative is to pay $121 for regular tickets, but I'd barely be willing to pay $25 to see this (in the words of Jeff) "terdfest of a show." I'm not blowing away a lot of funny money that I could spend at Dragon*Con on a 2.5-hour trainwreck.
Angry and confused, I leave Times Square.
RIP, Ariel.
This is a chronicle of that fateful day.
6:00 a.m. I wake, confused and frightened, as to why my alarm would tell me to get up at such a god-awful hour. Then I remember why and say, "Eff it, I'm going back to bed." Sarah then says something like, "Time to go," and I come to my senses. It's time to go.
6:15-6:45 a.m. It's interesting seeing the few people riding the subway so early on a Sunday morning. A few of them are wearing hospital scrubs. One guy is asleep. We're all tired, and no one seems to have any idea about what's going on.
6:40 a.m. I arrive in Times Square, so empty and peaceful before the tourists wake up. Some deli man is scrubbing down the sidewalk in front of his store, a futile practice I've always found quaint.
6:45 a.m. I arrive at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre. I'm curious about the number of people that'll be waiting. This IS the final performance after all. Jeff had said he'd gotten there at 7:45, A FULL HOUR LATER, and was third in line. I wonder if I'll be so lucky.
There's just one woman there. I'm second in line.
Over three hours to go.
6:45 - 8:00 a.m. I sit on a very uncomfortable standing pipe (I don't want to sit on the damp concrete). I've brought several library books to pass the time, and read Disappearance Diary, an autobiographical manga of the time Hideo Azuma willingly went homeless/left his life as an artist and became a blue-collar worker/checked into a hotel for alcoholism.
It begins with, "This manga has a positive outlook on life, and so it has been made with as much realism removed as possible," which I find amusing.
8:10 a.m. I begin to text Sarah as a way of chronicling my experience. First text: Now they're saying the box office opens at noon... I'm cold and hungry.
Shit. Noon?
Also, I'm just wearing a t-shirt and shorts and haven't eaten in almost 12 hours.
8:52 a.m. I begin to question why i am doing this. There are six people here. Used to be seven.
9:05 a.m. Someone confirmed that the box office opens at noon.
9:28 a.m. Getting colder. Nine people are here now.
9:41 a.m. Right now i want to march around and sing 'Mammal' by they might be giants.
I can't help it. I'm cold and sitting on the pipe is very uncomfortable. I find doing these weird knee-lifts helps, despite making me look crazy.
9:51 a.m. I am cold!
10:00 a.m. And then, finally, the sun burst forth. Daylight. Such a wondrous thing. Hail Apollo!
The street turned into a beautiful, almost movie-like set, glistening with the morning sun. It was really something.
During this time I read A Few Perfect Hours... and Other Stories From Southeast Asia & Central Europe, and enjoy the final story, about the different attitudes toward death between the Balinese and New Yorkers.
It makes me think of Swiper. I'm glad his spirit has been set free. He had a big spirit - big enough to ride on.
I've been sitting here for over three hours and am losing my grip on reality a little.
10:02 a.m. The theatre speakers begin playing a 30-minute spiel about The Little Mermaid. Mostly song selections. This is a good idea for passing tourists, but a bad idea for people trapped in a non-moving line. Rather than getting me psyched, hearing "Part of Your World" several times makes me not want to see the show. It's just too much. And I usually LOVE "Part of Your World."
10:08 a.m. to 10:18 a.m. I text Bethany and tell her (because I'm a liar) that Sarah plays one of Ariel's sisters. She believes me, and I text her that she also understudies as Sebastian. I think she believes this, too, and when I admit that I'm making this up, she says, "Yeah, I was wondering how she could pull that off..." since Sebastian is traditionally played by a black man.
10:29 a.m. Ten of us. The speaker has repeated its spiel once.
During this time I read some of From Hell. The juxtaposition of this book and my mission amuses me.
10:38 a.m. Thirteen people.
10:40 a.m. Fourteen people.
10:54 a.m. Sixteen... Almost at the limit of twenty or so.
I get a grim delight in thinking of the people who show up for tickets but won't be able to get them because they arrived too late. Sucks to be you, suckers!
10:54 a.m. Starting third time the speakers have played.
Apparently I've lost my mastery of the English language.
11:00 a.m. Sarah shows up with a sandwich and a sweater. I had a feeling she'd do this (since she asked me where I was. I just replied "In front of the theater"), and it's good to have company in the last leg of the journey.
12:00 p.m. The box office opens, and we are told there are no Standing Room Only tickets.
Everyone stands, jaw agape, at the unfairness of this situation. We were told there would be SRO tickets, so we did our part. We waited in line (FOR OVER FIVE HOURS). We braved the cold and the damp and the never-ending speakers. We have our money. We did our duty. We deserve tickets.
They disagree. The only alternative is to pay $121 for regular tickets, but I'd barely be willing to pay $25 to see this (in the words of Jeff) "terdfest of a show." I'm not blowing away a lot of funny money that I could spend at Dragon*Con on a 2.5-hour trainwreck.
Angry and confused, I leave Times Square.
RIP, Ariel.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Let's Japan Fair!
So Sunday was the NYC Japan Fair, and because I do love a good cultural fair, I was there.
It's always fun to pretend I'm a different ethnicity (or, in the case of the Filipino Day fair, my actual ethnicity) and then be like, "Yeah! Whoo! Go Japan! Let's do it! I'm wearing a headband!" while speaking in Japanese gibberish, enjoying food and t-shirts and stuff to buy and samples and whatnot... but I have to say, this was a rather disappointing "fair."
In fact, I'd be hard pressed to call it that at all. It was a one-block segment of a multi-block street fair (the generic kind where you can buy watermelon and scarves and fried dough and junk). Just a single block! So... kind of a small fair.
We arrived at the exact moment it got crazy crowded (so in that way, it was reminiscent of Japan), and there wasn't much to do except snake up the booths on one side, snake down the booths on the other, and get the heck out.
There was a karate demonstration (and later music), but you couldn't see anything. There was a lot of food, but I wasn't hungry and the lines were insane. There were small boxes of chocolate soy milk, and I got one of those (though it tastes chalky when warm), and there was nothing worth buying... except this.
When I saw that one of the food booths was decorated with these little balloon dolls of a smiling bald guy, I didn't know what it was about (later learned he's the mascot for Marukome, maker of miso products), but I knew I wanted one.
And so I got it.
Dream fulfilled, and I can call this fair a success. Go Japan! You're number one!
It's always fun to pretend I'm a different ethnicity (or, in the case of the Filipino Day fair, my actual ethnicity) and then be like, "Yeah! Whoo! Go Japan! Let's do it! I'm wearing a headband!" while speaking in Japanese gibberish, enjoying food and t-shirts and stuff to buy and samples and whatnot... but I have to say, this was a rather disappointing "fair."
In fact, I'd be hard pressed to call it that at all. It was a one-block segment of a multi-block street fair (the generic kind where you can buy watermelon and scarves and fried dough and junk). Just a single block! So... kind of a small fair.
We arrived at the exact moment it got crazy crowded (so in that way, it was reminiscent of Japan), and there wasn't much to do except snake up the booths on one side, snake down the booths on the other, and get the heck out.
There was a karate demonstration (and later music), but you couldn't see anything. There was a lot of food, but I wasn't hungry and the lines were insane. There were small boxes of chocolate soy milk, and I got one of those (though it tastes chalky when warm), and there was nothing worth buying... except this.
When I saw that one of the food booths was decorated with these little balloon dolls of a smiling bald guy, I didn't know what it was about (later learned he's the mascot for Marukome, maker of miso products), but I knew I wanted one.
And so I got it.
Dream fulfilled, and I can call this fair a success. Go Japan! You're number one!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Let's Take a Bite Out of Crime!
Yesterday was a beautiful, sunny Sunday and I'm walking along the very busy streets of Manhattan when I witness a crime.
Since it's so nice out, the sidewalks are crowded. And there are the usual many vendors hawking purses and bootleg DVDs and pictures of, like, Looney Tunes characters and President Obama, but then I notice one guy running a three-card monte table.
And I am shocked and appalled like grandma at a burlesque show. Believe it or not, I've never come across this in my six years of living in New York City. And I'm like, "Are you serious? In broad daylight? On 34th Street? Have you no decency? Are you crazy? Is this 1988? Did Giuliani never exist?"
What gets my goat is that three-card monte is CHEATING. It's a con. It's always a con. And that's not right.
Also, it worries me to witness this crime is done so blatantly. It makes me think of The Tipping Point and how this is yet another sign that the city is slipping down the slope to trouble (the main sign that worries me is the growing number of vacant shops in Manhattan).
Something must be done to stop this. For the good of the city.
My first thought is to fuck with the guy and expose him as a cheating, lying con (it's not too hard if you know the tricks of the game). Harry Anderson of Night Court fame used to do this in New Orleans, and as a result would get the shit kicked out of him.
But, unlike Harry Anderson, I have a strong streak of cowardice in me (also, no health insurance and I've got my brother's wedding next weekend so I can't show up with a busted face), and unlike the crazy boombox guy, this card dealer looks big enough, strong enough, and sane enough to give me a pounding... even on a crowded 34th Street.
So I do the next best thing: I call 311. This is one of two times I've had to do this since moving here (the first was when a crazy man took up residence at a bus stop), and, surprisingly, they quickly transfer me to 911 - who whoulda thunk illegal gambling constitutes an emergency?
I describe the guy and the location, can't ID any of his confederates (the table just got too crowded too quickly, so I couldn't pinpoint who was winning the games and who might be picking any pockets), and then wait.
Hand protectively clamped over my wallet, I pass by the table again. It's still going strong, HUGE crowd of people, and seriously, do any of them really believe this game is on the up and up? I cross the street to watch the cops bust this guy.
But they never show. 20 minutes later, the guy hustles off. He pats someone on the shoulder and disappears. I briefly think about tailing the guy, but what's the point? Also, I'm not Batman.
Very disappointing ending, and I head to the subway, paranoid that his confederates are gonna follow me and beat me up. Now I'm just paranoid that he's gonna read this blog and get me.
I hate everything.
Since it's so nice out, the sidewalks are crowded. And there are the usual many vendors hawking purses and bootleg DVDs and pictures of, like, Looney Tunes characters and President Obama, but then I notice one guy running a three-card monte table.
And I am shocked and appalled like grandma at a burlesque show. Believe it or not, I've never come across this in my six years of living in New York City. And I'm like, "Are you serious? In broad daylight? On 34th Street? Have you no decency? Are you crazy? Is this 1988? Did Giuliani never exist?"
What gets my goat is that three-card monte is CHEATING. It's a con. It's always a con. And that's not right.
Also, it worries me to witness this crime is done so blatantly. It makes me think of The Tipping Point and how this is yet another sign that the city is slipping down the slope to trouble (the main sign that worries me is the growing number of vacant shops in Manhattan).
Something must be done to stop this. For the good of the city.
My first thought is to fuck with the guy and expose him as a cheating, lying con (it's not too hard if you know the tricks of the game). Harry Anderson of Night Court fame used to do this in New Orleans, and as a result would get the shit kicked out of him.
But, unlike Harry Anderson, I have a strong streak of cowardice in me (also, no health insurance and I've got my brother's wedding next weekend so I can't show up with a busted face), and unlike the crazy boombox guy, this card dealer looks big enough, strong enough, and sane enough to give me a pounding... even on a crowded 34th Street.
So I do the next best thing: I call 311. This is one of two times I've had to do this since moving here (the first was when a crazy man took up residence at a bus stop), and, surprisingly, they quickly transfer me to 911 - who whoulda thunk illegal gambling constitutes an emergency?
I describe the guy and the location, can't ID any of his confederates (the table just got too crowded too quickly, so I couldn't pinpoint who was winning the games and who might be picking any pockets), and then wait.
Hand protectively clamped over my wallet, I pass by the table again. It's still going strong, HUGE crowd of people, and seriously, do any of them really believe this game is on the up and up? I cross the street to watch the cops bust this guy.
But they never show. 20 minutes later, the guy hustles off. He pats someone on the shoulder and disappears. I briefly think about tailing the guy, but what's the point? Also, I'm not Batman.
Very disappointing ending, and I head to the subway, paranoid that his confederates are gonna follow me and beat me up. Now I'm just paranoid that he's gonna read this blog and get me.
I hate everything.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Let's Sightseeing!
As a gentleman of leisure, I realized I ought to start really enjoying this wonderful city that I live in, and not in the manner of stealing boomboxes from crazy people. What I mean is seeing all the unique sights that New York has to offer, so this weekend I did two such things.
The New York Aquarium
Friday! Coney Island! Birthday celebrations! Sounds like a sure-fire recipe for success, but our outdoor antics were thwarted by the rain. However, retreat was not an option (Coney Island is an hour-plus ride on the subway, and it's not a journey one takes lightly), and after enjoying several drinks, we weren't going to let a little rain spoil Ari's birthday.
What to do? Why, the New York Aquarium. Though I've been to Coney Island several times, I'd never been there, and I do love anything with animals. Doesn't everybody? It instantly turns me into a much younger version of myself, which isn't saying a lot.
The rain kept the crowds away, which made for prime viewing, and I had to remind myself that I was in mixed company, so I couldn't run around screaming constantly.
Though I love the Bronx Zoo, it can be overwhelming, and so I do appreciate the smaller New York animal things (like the Central Park Zoo or the Prospect Park Zoo). Here we got to see penguins eating (including one unwelcome visitor - see if you can spot him)...
Otters, jellyfish, seahorses, an octopus, seals (or "water dogs," as they are known in Korea), and a surprisingly big walrus (sadly, no masturbating walrus, which I was very much hoping to see).
I should elaborate on that last part. Betsy had told me there's a teenage male walrus who likes to do that deed constantly, while staring through the window at the human guests. It's some sort of weird dominance thing, and also he's going through that phase. So the kids find it funny because they don't know what he's doing, just moving his big flippers in some unusual way, but then all of a sudden there's a milky explosion, and that really disturbs the parents. I really wanted to see this, more for the people's reactions than for the actual sight, but that particular walrus wasn't out and about. Such is life.
The Cloisters
The perfect complement to wet animals is, of course, medieval art, and so the next day I visited the Cloisters. According to wiki, the Cloisters is a "branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art dedicated to the art and architecture of the European Middle Ages." Whatever, it looks like the Scarlet Monastery from World of Warcraft, and that's enough for me.
Now I've been around the Cloisters a lot, because they hold the annual Medieval Festival in the same park, but I'd never gone inside. Just one of those many things you never get around to doing until you realize your time is short and you'd better get around to doing it before you're in another world, another life. So this weekend, we made it happen.
Why did I not go before?! It's full of amazing medieval stuff - unicorn tapestries (which I did not photograph, even without a flash, out of respect for the faded fabrics), crazy tomb effigies, reliquaries, statues of monsters and dogs, something that I am convinced was a magic wand, all sorts of stuff that comes straight out of an RPG and is right up my alley.
Usually art museums get me antsy (I don't really know how to appreciate art), but here I was in hog heaven, just taking close-up photos of all the creepy faces. It must've gotten annoying for my companions. But at least I kept my voice down.
Look at this face! Creepy, right? Imagine if it suddenly came to life. That's what I like to think about. I also like to imagine the history behind everything - some person made this, I believe it housed the skull of a saint (can you believe that?!) and now in another world, another life, it's freaking me out. I love it.
I took literally a million pictures at the Cloisters, and I can't publish them all (although here is a link to my flickr set), but there's one particular thing that bears sharing:
This is a stained glass window (there's probably a more accurate term) of three apes building a table. One of my favorite mysteries from history, we'll never know what compelled the artist to design such a scene - is it a folktale or an allegory that we've forgotten about in this modern world, or was he like me, simply a man who thought it would be funny to draw three apes building a table?
The New York Aquarium
Friday! Coney Island! Birthday celebrations! Sounds like a sure-fire recipe for success, but our outdoor antics were thwarted by the rain. However, retreat was not an option (Coney Island is an hour-plus ride on the subway, and it's not a journey one takes lightly), and after enjoying several drinks, we weren't going to let a little rain spoil Ari's birthday.
What to do? Why, the New York Aquarium. Though I've been to Coney Island several times, I'd never been there, and I do love anything with animals. Doesn't everybody? It instantly turns me into a much younger version of myself, which isn't saying a lot.
The rain kept the crowds away, which made for prime viewing, and I had to remind myself that I was in mixed company, so I couldn't run around screaming constantly.
Though I love the Bronx Zoo, it can be overwhelming, and so I do appreciate the smaller New York animal things (like the Central Park Zoo or the Prospect Park Zoo). Here we got to see penguins eating (including one unwelcome visitor - see if you can spot him)...
Otters, jellyfish, seahorses, an octopus, seals (or "water dogs," as they are known in Korea), and a surprisingly big walrus (sadly, no masturbating walrus, which I was very much hoping to see).
I should elaborate on that last part. Betsy had told me there's a teenage male walrus who likes to do that deed constantly, while staring through the window at the human guests. It's some sort of weird dominance thing, and also he's going through that phase. So the kids find it funny because they don't know what he's doing, just moving his big flippers in some unusual way, but then all of a sudden there's a milky explosion, and that really disturbs the parents. I really wanted to see this, more for the people's reactions than for the actual sight, but that particular walrus wasn't out and about. Such is life.
The Cloisters
The perfect complement to wet animals is, of course, medieval art, and so the next day I visited the Cloisters. According to wiki, the Cloisters is a "branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art dedicated to the art and architecture of the European Middle Ages." Whatever, it looks like the Scarlet Monastery from World of Warcraft, and that's enough for me.
Now I've been around the Cloisters a lot, because they hold the annual Medieval Festival in the same park, but I'd never gone inside. Just one of those many things you never get around to doing until you realize your time is short and you'd better get around to doing it before you're in another world, another life. So this weekend, we made it happen.
Why did I not go before?! It's full of amazing medieval stuff - unicorn tapestries (which I did not photograph, even without a flash, out of respect for the faded fabrics), crazy tomb effigies, reliquaries, statues of monsters and dogs, something that I am convinced was a magic wand, all sorts of stuff that comes straight out of an RPG and is right up my alley.
Usually art museums get me antsy (I don't really know how to appreciate art), but here I was in hog heaven, just taking close-up photos of all the creepy faces. It must've gotten annoying for my companions. But at least I kept my voice down.
Look at this face! Creepy, right? Imagine if it suddenly came to life. That's what I like to think about. I also like to imagine the history behind everything - some person made this, I believe it housed the skull of a saint (can you believe that?!) and now in another world, another life, it's freaking me out. I love it.
I took literally a million pictures at the Cloisters, and I can't publish them all (although here is a link to my flickr set), but there's one particular thing that bears sharing:
This is a stained glass window (there's probably a more accurate term) of three apes building a table. One of my favorite mysteries from history, we'll never know what compelled the artist to design such a scene - is it a folktale or an allegory that we've forgotten about in this modern world, or was he like me, simply a man who thought it would be funny to draw three apes building a table?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
