March 2005 Archives

Actually, I'm wearing pink today in honor of the nice weather, but black sounds better with back, doesn't it? I'm posting today to get my only two faithful readers off my back--you know who you are! Sorry for the lag. I haven't been feeling inspired, which is weak, I know.

So last night, I went to Joya. I really like Joya. I really like its spicy basil noodle, its pad thai, its green and masaman curries, its spicy mussels, its prices, and I've long ago accepted that Friday and Saturday nights are when the yuppies from Brooklyn Heights and Cobble Hill invade the restaurant and when it is to be avoided at all costs. However, last night (a Wednesday) at 9:30pm, there was a half-hour wait. The bar was spilling over with girls in new spring boho stylings. Note to girls with  back fat: Do not sit on a bar stool in a short-ish top and expect the revealed fat to be attractive to the men (or women) behind you! Anyway, it just made me realize how much the neighborhood had changed, and I've only been here for two years. I still love you Joya--I'll try Monday or Tuesday next time :)

I was walking back to work with my $4.33 carton of soup from Westerly Market on 8th Avenue and 53rd Street, when I spotted a very small camera crew filming a man wearing an overcoat and barely noticeable shorts. The crew is filming him from behind, and the man proceeds to wildly, though fakely, expose him to the traffic coming down Broadway--all the while making these fantastic facial expressions that one might imagine a man exposing himself would make, even though the crew was only filming him from behind. Good stuff. Anybody got any real stories about flashers in the city?

New Smyrna Beach, Florida, is a pretty sleepy little town, at least until the overflow from Bike Week in Daytona hits its placid shores. Sadly, my most recent trip to New Smyrna was post-bike week and things had quieted down quite a bit. Still, I got to sit in the sun, shop at overpriced antique shops with relatives and witness an honest to goodness $1 ice cream cone--who knew those even existed. Oh, and I got to eat rock shrimp for the first time: They taste like lobster, look like shrimp :)

Sorry for the lag in posting, but I'm now back from my mini-vacation to Florida.  I'll have photos up tonight that should contrast nicely with this evening's predicted snow. In the meantime, some fun sites to check out (thanks to Kendra and Becky for sending):
Knitted food
Shopping outside the box
Medidations on cupcakes

Ahh, two of my loves wrapped up into one neat little package: kitties and techno.

It seems like Smith Street's in a mini clothing renaissance. First, it was Soula, then Brooklyn Industries (which is only selling bags and T-shirts until spring), and now it's Something Else, a new men's and women's clothing shop between Bergen and Dean. The boutique carries Triple 5 Soul, Joe's Jeans and many other of the expected hip brands. I fell in love with a lilac-colored windbreaker, but it was almost $100. Boo. The owners also have a 6,000-square-foot store on 86th Street in Brooklyn. At left is my new favorite T-shirt from the new store, which my friend Adam is modelling.

Something Else is at 144 Smith Street, between Bergen Street and Dean Street. The phone is (718) 643-3204.

An astute abrooklynlife reader and blogger Michael Dietsch pointed out this New York Post article, reporting that the MTA is threatening F Line Bagels with a trademark infringement suit. The owners of the store are confused because they bought the merchandise from the MTA's website and meant no harm by the homage to the nearby subway stop and line. I'm assuming the MTA has some kind of legalize on its side, but don't they realize they're making themselves look like asses?

Our first post about the opening is here.

More chatter here.

This is the fourth in a series of books spotted on the subway.

It was a Dan Brown kind of week ...

The Da Vinci Code
Angels and Demons

The Life of Pi by Yann Martel.

The Future of Life by Edward O. Wilson.

The Ground Beneath Her Feet by Salman Rushdie.

The Two Swords by R.A. Salvatore.

The Buffalo Soldier: A Novel by Chris Bohjalian.

Dutch II: Angel's Revenge by Teri Woods.

On my lap: American Gothic Tales, edited by Joyce Carol Oates.

If you're eating at Chipotle, most likely more than 1,000. Yep, more than 1,000 calories in one burrito (even some of the veggie ones).  As this handy little report points out, eating the entire 1,300-calorie Barbacoa Burrito is like eating a quarter pounder, large fries and a large Coke. Of course a lot of people refuse to eat at Chipotle because McDonalds is a major financial backer of the chain, but it's managed to deflect some of that criticism by pointing to its health-conscious offerings. Oops.

Here's an interesting google thread on the subject.

Thanks to my sis for sending me the calorie link.

OK, so I spent an inordinate amount of time in Williamsburg this weekend, but it gave me a chance to check out the second Brooklyn bar with the welcomed gimmicky offering of free pizza with a drink purchase. The new entry into this game is Capone's on North 9th Street. I love the space--especially the sub-level caged-in tables--but the pizza can't compete with that of Alligator Lounge. What makes the Lounge's pie so damn good? The thin, wood-oven crisped crust and the shockingly good cheese with which it's topped. The sauce, tangy without overwhelming the delicate pizza, adds to the experience, too. The pizza I sampled at Capone's, on the other hand, wasn't quite cooked  and the cheese had a mind of its own, sliding all over the place. (I saw more than a few hungry hipsters lose a chunk or two on the floor.) Capone's did, however, have condiments such as grated cheese and hot pepper flakes on the bar.  Of course, at Alligator Lounge, it feels like you are eating and drinking in a 20-year-old Pizza Hut turned fake flower shop turned bar. If you've never peeked into the back room of the space, you must! At Capone's, on the other hand, you really feel like you've walked into a private loft party (and you can't get more Williamsburg than that).  But back to the pizza. The good news: It's free  wherever you choose.

Went a relatively new bar in Williamsburg this last weekend. Duff's is a kind of Disneyland for hard rockers. The owner, whose facial hair features prominently on the bar's T-shirts and who notoriously drives a Hearse, decorated the spot with every last bit of odd-ball memorabilia he could find (much of it from his last association with Bellevue, the famed dive bar in Hell's Kitchen). I particularly liked the doll heads sitting in a row behind the bar, though the pin-up girls papering the benches were a nice touch, as well. There's even a poster for Duff's beer from the Simpon's on the ceiling--there's actually quite a lot of interesting stuff on the ceiling but don't let that distract you from the real live gorilla suit in the corner. What interests me most about this place is that Duff (and the girl in the gold lamé pants and halter top serving drinks from behind the bar) don't appear to lead their lives in irony, which is, of course, the pinnacle of the Williamsburg experience. But maybe Duff doesn't care if hipsters ironically wear their death metal shirts to his bar. Maybe he'll enjoy that as he chuckles from behind his dark sunglasses. Maybe that's why he put a Strokes CD along side AC/DC and Metalica in the jukebox. Who the hell cares, actually, as this bar has a lot more heart than most of the joints in the area. Right now, it a very long, cold walk to North 3rd and Kent, but I predict that when the weather's warm and the patio opens, there will be a gaggle of mussy haired Williamsburgers downing the $1 happy hour PBRs. And, I just might be there, too.

On a barely related note, I found these amazing sandals while searching for Duff's on that thing they call the internet(s). This is a must-click-through, trust me.

A couple of months ago, we got my longtime kitty friend Sebastian (right) a new friend, Winston (left). Recently Winston has begun exhibiting extreme passive agressive behavior. When he wants to sit somewhere that Sebastian happens to be sitting, like say this nice little Ikea cat perch, he simply sits on top of Sebastian!  I wonder how this would play out in the subway?

Oh, and if you couldn't tell by his face, Sebastian doesn't like being on the bottom.
 

GoFugYourself

TelevisionWithoutPity

Ok, I know I'm a little late on this post, what with the snow already on the ground and everything. But I figure it's going to snow so much in the next 10 days (even if it is just flurries) that this remains an apropos photo. I shot it Monday afternoon before the flakes started to fall.

And just for fun, my super-cool Clarks boots handling the snow like seasoned pros.

Yesterday, I took the first of five classes at Sew Fast, Sew Easy, which will purportedly teach me how to sew. I actually did pretty well last night while under the watchful eye of the instructor. In fact, by the end, I was inwardly singing my own praises. My mind jumped to thoughts of the fantastic curtains I could hem, of the cute skirts I could fashion (with complicated panels, zippers and special stitching), and just how much easier and more care-free my life would now be. Of course, once I got home, pulled out my mom's old sewing machine and tried to apply the principals, things fell apart. The fabric puckered, the stitches didn't lie flat on the back and then, inexplicably, three or four pieces of thread started appearing under the needle once I finished sewing a line.  After untangling the mess, it turned out to be an extra, entirely separate, thread from the top spool. Where did it come from?  These are the mysteries I hope to uncover next week  ... On the left is my first creation. It's a belt bag (?) and for all of its uncoolness, I am incredibly proud. It's the first thing I've ever sewn on a machine.

There's a new non-profit store in Astoria that recycles salvaged, surplus and green building materials.  It's called Build It Green and is not too far away from the Bohemian Beer Hall. People can donate their building excess and the money raised by its sale goes to causes such as environmental education at a park on the East River. Of course, you can buy the stuff, too. As a wee little apartment dweller, I have no need for a door, cabinet, or a kitchen sink, but we renters can dream.