Quiet Activity

-Roo

Bluestockings

-Roo

Caturday...

If I just admit I'm a cat lady now, when I don't even have a cat...that's better than waking up at forty with nine cats sharing my bed and then realizing it. Methinks.


I Can Has Cheezburger!!

(Cat pictured above is Schrodinger. We're in a long-distance relationship.)

-Roo

076 - Suckers - Roman Candles

Going to their show tonight at the Bowery Ballroom.

This song makes me wish I were better at whistling... :)

-Roo

So Many Things, part 3

1. The above video. Best. Commercial. Ever.

2. Taking a mental health day, especially on a Friday cause that means a three-day weekend!

3. The 'Gum Mix at Stereogum. Great blog, and great random mix of music for when I really can't make a decision to save my life.

4. Going to sleep at 9pm every now and then. Even night owls need a break!

5. Suzi Loves Cowboys nail polish by O.P.I. "It looks like you dipped your fingers in chocolate pudding...in a good way." (According to my roommate.)

6. This article on dating from the Village Voice (care of I'm Boy Crazy).

7. Mental Floss -- because where else could you read about a place in England that sells ice cream made from human breast milk? Weird....

8. Avocados.

9. Hemingway Cats. Why do they have so many toes???? Prolly so they can do this...

10. The rain I can hear falling outside. Cause a) I'm not in it, and b) it means it must be warm enough that it's not snow...which I take to mean that Spring could actually happen.

-Roo

Bluestockings

-Roo

Lack of Cash Leads to Curious Chain of Events

Last night, I as stood shivering at an Upper West Side bus stop with my dear friend, midway through our trip home after seeing Lady Gaga as MSG -- which left me feeling as if I may have accidentally joined a cult, as there was a lot of preaching, you see, and blood, and strange rituals -- I realized that I was smoking the last cigarette in my pack.

This made me realize that I only have twenty bucks to last me until my next paycheck...which is still almost a week away.

This led to some quick math where I tried to justify spending twelve of those twenty dollars on a pack of cigarettes that would last me about three days. My better judgment won out.

I told my friend to dare me to not smoke until my next paycheck. I have little self control on my own, but find it nearly impossible to resist a dare.

She dared me.

I woke up this morning realizing that I wouldn't be having a cigarette as I walked to the subway. I panicked, then let my masochist side take over and suggest: What if you just quit altogether? It's going to fucking suck to go all week without a smoke...so why not make it extra difficult and painful and go ahead and say you're done...forever! And then the masochist side of me dared me. Ass.

At eleven am, I flipped out on my boss in an email. Around one pm, I felt the need to kick a puppy. On my commute home, I kicked a girl's backpack -- which thankfully was not on her back at the time, though that may have felt more satisfying.

After eating most of a box of Girl Scout cookies and a block of Swiss cheese for dinner -- no money for groceries, either, it appears -- the masochist came out again. "Hey," is said,"I dare you to go run three miles with your bad attitude, smoker's lungs, and gut full of sugar and cheese..." And I did.

Then it said,"Well, since you aren't miserable enough, yet, let's try this: instead of ending your night with a few glasses of Jameson in a dark, creepy bar, let's do yoga! And then go to sleep!"

Here I'm rebelling. I'm sitting on the yoga mat, yes, but I'm doing it with my computer on my lap and a scowl on my face. But now I'm thinking: if on the off-chance this whole not-smoking and running and staying in on occasion thing takes root, I can blame it all on being a total failure at making a monthly budget.

-Roo

Monday as a Hermit

To wake up to....



To watch while still in pajamas...



To go running to...

The long weekend is over -- back to the quickened pace tomorrow.

-Roo

Listen: Sharon Van Etten - Peace Signs

Whiskey Nights

I doubt I will ever find a bar that I will hold in my heart quite like I do The Great Nabob in Seattle. That place was my home for awhile when I didn't really feel like I had one. I made a lot of good friends there, I fell in love there, and I got my heart broken there. That's a lot of memory for one place to hold.

But I'm gonna keep trying to find its East Coast replacement -- except maybe this time, I'll pass on the whole heartbreak thing. Done with that for awhile.

I haven't had much luck. It took me five years to find the Nabob, though, and I've only been here eight months. There will be a lot of Jameson imbibed before I find the one, methinks.

Right now, I'm a fan of The Library at Avenue A and E 1st St. Books, skulls, spiked apple cider to keep you warm through the harshest bit of New York winter. And the two-for-one happy hour doesn't hurt anything.

Raise your glass and get it going,
-Roo

Have to Have: More Rice Noodles!

Tu Do (Little Italy): Went here last night after getting caught in the ridiculous NYC windstorm that made it feel like the freaking arctic. The day before, it was 60 degrees. Wtf, weather gods? Anyway, ducked in here to escape the cold and to calm the demon in me that demands Vietnamese food at least twice a week. Switching it up from my usual bahn mi or pho tai, I had pho bun with grilled shrimp. Love me a big bowl of rice noodles and veggies! I also had an order of spring rolls, which, let's face it, are pretty hard to fuck up, and generally a creation of deep-fried deliciousness. I think the vests that the servers wear are silly, but maybe that's a good thing, too.

-Roo

Bluestockings

One half of my current stack of library books.



Starting this tonight.

Just finished "Blankets" by Craig Thompson. So beautiful -- read it now.

-Roo

So Many Things, part 2

1. Roommates who get home drunk and announce that they invited the guy who works at the pizza place next door to come have a foursome with us.

2. The fact that we all fell asleep before his shift ended.

3. Getting freaked out by Shutter Island, and watching Ace Ventura, Pet Detective to make myself feel better.

4. My plan to start running again, starting tomorrow. Taking two months off from it has wreaked havoc on my mind...and a little bit on my body, too. Time to get back in the groove.

5. My plan, also, to start eating healthier. Whiskey and ramen noodles should not be the mainstay of one's diet.

6. "Blankets" by Craig Thompson. Didn't know that a graphic novel could make me cry.

7. Sunday afternoons of painting nails, flipping through magazines, and listening to Big Star.

8. My grandmother's topaz necklace. It looks like a medieval amulet of some sort, and I choose to believe it brings me luck.

9. The blinking green light on my phone, and the feeling I get in my stomach when it's indicating a text from the person I'm most wanting to hear from.

10. Almost Famous. Can't help it.

-Roo

Bluestockings

Music I Lost in the Break Up

-Bright Eyes "I'm Wide Awake It's Morning"
-Florence and the Machine "Lungs"
-Tao with the Get Down Stay Down "Know Better, Learn Faster"
-Minus the Bear
-The Hush Sound "Like Vines"
-Daft Punk
-Ghostland Observatory "Robotique Majestique"
-Brand New "Deja Entendu"
-The Good Life "Album of the Year"
-Rilo Kiley "More Adventurous"
-Ratatat
-Kay Kay and his Weathered Underground
-Cake
-Damien Rice "o"
-The Decemberists "The Crane Wife"
-Eisley "Room Noises"
-Matt & Kim "Grand"
-Stroke 9 "Nasty Little Thoughts"

I don't miss too many of them...just enough to wonder when the hell I can reclaim them from the realm of mopey nostalgia.

Have to Have: The Perfect Bahn Mi / Pho

Since moving to New York eight months ago, I've been feeling deprived of awesome Vietnamese food. Alas, this isn't the West Coast, and I have to try harder than I like to find likely candidates. So here is my quest -- to try every Vietnamese hole-in-the-wall from Park Slope to Chelsea to find the best this city has to offer.

Here are my finds so far:

Spice Noodle (Upper East Side): bad, awful pho that couldn't even be called pho except by someone who has never had or heard of it. I went here on one of my first nights in the city because my friend was coming down with a cold and wanted pho to be the panacea we remember it to be on the other side of the country. Fail.

Lan Cafe (East 6th St between 1st Ave and Ave A): delicious, and vegan (not a requirement in my diet, but a pleasant surprise when I can find it). I had the tempeh bahn mi and wanted to eat five more of them. I also had this fresh-made carrot-ginger juice drink thing that was amazing and made me feel like the kind of healthy person who eats lots of lentils and wakes up at dawn to drink green tea and do Sun Salutations. Immediately after leaving Lan Cafe, I lit up a cigarette. The effect was only temporary, it seems.

Bahn Mi Zon (East 6th St between Ave A and Ave B): damn good sandwich. Once again, they had a vegetarian option -- some sort of marinated tofu. They don't make their sandwiches spicy enough for my liking, but thankfully, since I stayed there to eat, I just liberally applied sriracha. The gentleman behind the counter watched me as I squirted chili sauce all over my bahn mi. He looked pretty worried that he may have to call an ambulance for me before my meal was finished, but I just smiled at him and nodded in that "yeah, don't worry, I got this" way. This place also had great tea.

Lotus Cafe (Park Slope): went there with some friends one frigid Saturday in January. Half of them were wondering why I was dragging them all the way to Brooklyn for a freaking sandwich -- the others knew better than to question my overwhelming desire for Vietnamese food. And this place did not disappoint. Well worth the trip out of Manhattan. After that, we huddled around the fireplace in Union Hall until we could feel our extremities again -- it only took four hours and six beers.

Cong Ly (Chinatown): the steak pho is fantastic. They marinate and grill the steak beforehand, slice it thinly and wrap it around bits of onion. Not how I'm used to pho, but sooooo good it doesn't really matter. The broth is great and the older guy who works here is amazing. I'm not a fan of having to walk through the kitchen to get to the bathroom, though. Is that even legal?

Pho Grand (Chinatown): the rival to Cong Ly's greatness. I had the Pho Tai, and it was exactly how I remember it from Seattle. So good -- I prefer it slightly to Cong Ly, and the atmosphere is nicer. Also, the bathrooms aren't in the kitchen. These things kinda matter, methinks.

-Roo

So Many Things, part 1

1. Waking up on Sunday without a hangover, though I fully deserve to have one. Wish I knew what form of witchcraft has given me this headache-and-nausea-free morning, so that I might be able to repeat it, say, on Wednesday morning when I'm feeling like death commuting to work...

2. "The Return of the Durutti Column" by Durutti Column -- something I probably never would have found on my own, but I'm so glad to have it now.

3. My stuffed animals, Downtown and Baby Bear.

4. The Guaco Loco taco from San Loco in the East Village. All I ever want to eat ever again in my whole life.

5. The joy of little mini-naps on the train while coming home from a night out...as long as you have friends with you will will stay conscious and wake you up when you get to your stop so that you don't end up waking up at the end of line in Queens wondering where your purse went.

6. The ever-growing pile of library books on my nightstand.

7. The pleasant fantasy that one day I will read all of them.

8. The near-overpowering smell of bleach -- yeah, that's right, I got up early on Sunday and cleaned the WHOLE apartment. Probably also killed some brains cells and put my fertility in danger...I use a lot of bleach..

9. Traveling by bus. Best zone outs ever.

10. Dashell's (the laptop) audio is working this morning, allowing me to listen to the Durutti Column and making me almost forgive him for the hematoma he gave me yesterday.

-Roo

Why I Don't Get Up Before Noon on Weekends

My computer is possessed. His name is Dashell, and perhaps he's acting out because his name is Dashell, and he probably thinks of himself as more of a Spike or a Bruno.

Our relationship has gotten rather rocky over the past year. He doesn't always turn on when commanded -- a fault I can, as a woman, understand, especially if he's been drinking a lot or it's been a stressful week at work. Dashell, however, is a computer, and unless he's been getting into the ancient bottle of Campari that is next to my nightstand, I don't think he should have any problems, um...functioning.

The main problem, however, is the "silent treatment." Dashell has been intermittently choosing to be mute for the past year and a half. Yes, I know there is a way to fix this, but I refuse to spend any more money on this damn thing than I absolutely must, and it suits me better to think that this is a personal grudge that an anthropomorphic laptop is expressing. The sound will work fine for hours, even days -- I think in January, we even had an entire week where I could listen to iTunes and watch TV and movies and be able to hear everything -- but, invariably, I will piss Dashell off. Perhaps I haven't been home enough nights and he's feeling neglected. Perhaps he overheard me discussing with my roommate that I'd much rather have a Mac. Perhaps he just couldn't bear to listen to Mad Rad's slimy lyrics anymore. Whatever it may be, he will decide that it's time to take away my audio privileges.

But he doesn't do this by just becoming silent. No -- because then I might not notice unless I am actively listening to something at the time, and I really need to be well aware that I have pissed him off. So he starts growling. It's like this, but scratchier.



It gives me nightmares. And it will continue doing this long after I've slammed the lid shut and hidden the damn thing under my bed. Sometimes, it will last a few minutes, and then Dashell will fall ominously silent. Sometimes, it will last for hours. Once while I was out of town and hadn't powered him off -- which I imagine is why he got upset -- he went on my days. My poor roommates couldn't figure out what the sound was or where it was coming from. They thought they were going to die at the hands of some angry spirit.

But today, Dashell seems to really have it out for me. On a cold, snowy Saturday morning in Manhattan, I woke up and decided to do some work. Dashell is not normally used before sunset. He is nocturnal. Occasionally, on weekends, he'll allow to be used in the late afternoon, but eleven in the morning is, apparently, completely unacceptable, and he responded with physical violence.

I was listening to some Morrissey and looking at job postings that I'm wholly unqualified for when Dashell decided ten minutes of hard labor was more than enough. He jumped out of my hands when I tried to move him from one spot on the bed to another and struck me violently on the leg. An hour later, it looked like this.



Yeah, and then started growling. He's still growling, the son of a bitch. I should have just slept in.

So now I'm going to shut him off for the day. Momma always says that computers aren't to be trusted. Books rarely let you down as much. Here's my selection for the day:




Happy unplugged Saturday.

-Roo