I generally get pretty anxious before a big flight.

I came to the airport very early, as I really dislike running around in a frenzy in airports. Despite my early arrival, the lines were very long. I ended up missing a relaxed dinner and instead had to pick up a sandwich to bring in the plane.

I sat down, pulled out the tray table, and set my sandwich on it. A flight attendant walked by and noticed it, with what appeared to be a look of disapproval.

I took a few bites, and suddenly the same man came by, and in a swift motion, set down a napkin and a glass of water. Funny, that such a little gesture, how it took my anxiety away. My mind cleared now, allowing me to look forward to seeing Ed, and seeing my dad in such a great place. It's been so long since we've traveled together.

I brought four books to keep me busy during the flight. If I'm lucky, though, I'll get some sleep during this red eye flight.

Luck! The same flight attendant offered a two seat empty row to the woman on my row. I asked her if she wanted me to move there instead, yielding the same result.

Now I have my own row. Score! Maybe I may get some sleep after all.

If I don't return to blogland soon, have a good weekend.

Friday's plan was simple: take a bike ride with Rachel up to the top of Manhattan and back down the west side, stopping for a bite to eat at the Frying Pan around 5-ish, as I had to meet Nat & Leza at a movie.

The day turned out great. We rode up St. Nicholas ave. just about all the way up, then veered onto some other road that took us to some highway stretch, at which point we had to climb some stairs. I then saw the George Washington bridge ahead, which meant we were close to the top. At this point, I was getting really hungry.

We kept riding, and riding....and riding....

I swore we should have reached the top and turned back southward very soon after going under the bridge. But we didn't. We just kept going. I looked at the clock and saw that it was 4:15 or so. I was starting to worry about getting back in time.

Just as I was going to say something, I saw a sign on the highway that was parallel to us, for like 72nd street. Uh, oops. Apparently, we had turned around at some point and had been going south for a while. Phew!

We met up with Rachel's friend Justin and ate a ton of food at the Frying Pan, which is on a boat off 26th or so.

...

I made the movie on time, which, by the way, is The Beaches of Agnes. It's got plenty of creative imagery and a good number of hilarious moments. I totally recommend it if you're in the area.

After the movie, Nat & Leza tried to get me drunk to get me out of a funk I was in earlier. We went to some nearby restaurant, but I actually decided I didn't want to get drunk. I just wasn't in the mood for it. Plus, there was going to be lots of beer awaiting us the next day.

....

Saturday's was a bigger crew...Nat + Leza, but also Cas & Joe, Lauren, and Cas's roommate. We started at The Blind Tiger, where we got to sample a variety of yummy beers (Annie 6!), plus chocolates thanks to Lauren. We moved on to John's Pizzeria for a quick bite, then to Roasting Plant Coffee for dessert/coffee. They had all these Jetson's-like tubes for transporting the coffee across the shop:



The group then split up to other respective events. Nat, Joe, Leza and I went to an event called 4th On Fire organized by the Brecht Forum. I mean, I had already seen the fireworks at Macy's. Time for something new, like a Commie 4th of July!

We took the L past Williamsburg, almost to Bushwick, to a half industrial/half lofty area. We paid $10 at the door and went in. It was basically what appeared to be a big co-op building full of folks having this party. There was a large rooftop area where people were grilling out food and a DJ spun some nice tunes.







Other than the Uncle Sam Piñata, the party seemed pretty much the same as any non-commie party. One of Nat's friends (who joined us at this party) suggested that we go randomly talk to someone who we don't think is interesting, I suppose the idea being that they would probably be interesting. She took off and quickly chatted up a random person.

I wasn't feeling so adventurous. We thought about taking off. As we began to head out, though, this band came out:



It's called the Rude Mechanical Orchestra, and I immediately liked them. The music was pretty lively. Leza and I found ourselves moving to the music. This girl next to me said, "I can't believe not more people are dancing to this!" I replied, "If they're too ashamed to come out here and dance, they surely ain't gonna overthrow any governments!" Also, I assumed that counted as my "talk to a non-interesting person", except this person was cute, and interesting, and, by happenstance, also named Alex. Oh, and she introduced herself to me, not the other way around. OK, maybe it doesn't count.



Apparently, around this time, Leza had been talking with one of the dancers about the same thing. They suggested that we all go right smack to front and center and get the party started. I had no idea this conversation transpired until Leza dragged me out there with them. Okay, so maybe I was going to be adventurous after all. You know what, though, being right by the music made it kind of easy. I was glad she dragged me out.

After the concert, we went to leave, as they announced that it was Uncle Sam Piñata time. Except it cost money to get a shot at him.

We needed to take off to make it to our next event, so we skipped the piñata.



Zoom!

...

Our last stop for the night was at the Floating Kabarette at Galapagos, hosted by Olga and Bjorn, "straight off the boat from Sweden, lost."



The irony of the night: the "4th On Fire" party earlier was $10 for admission. You had to pay separately not only for drinks, but also to get a stab at the Piñata. For the same $10, our capitalist friends at Galapagos threw in a free drink plus a free haircut. Sure, there wasnt a piñata, but there was a piñata mascot which gave you prizes if you stuck your hand up its butt (Leza won a free drink). Plus aerial act Anya Sapozhnikova. And, oh, right, attractive women dancing and stripping down to their pasties. Choice Lauren quote: "I don't normally get to study women's breasts."



How often will you get to do this while watching cabaret? It's haircut time!

....

Sunday I was so beat that instead of all those chores I had listed previously, I ended up volunteering for "Save Coney Island" by writing them a bot to scrape the "city council reps lookup page" for their online petition.

I can't believe I get to see my brother Al tomorrow, and then leave to see my other brother Ed in two days!

Before I forget this...my Belkin bluetooth dongle thingy wasn't working on the new Ubuntu, because...



Thus..



Reboot.

SIgh. Time to save up for a mac mini.

Via kernel trap.

- Spring cleaning: bathroom
- Clothes purge ("What's the best nation? Do-nation!")
- Work on May 15 video
- Just sit at Tea Lounge or similar and read a book
- Laundry
- Put mini on Ebay
- Attempt to fix SB-200 I dropped when I was taking pics of my new snowboard.

The excitement is overwhelming!

...

Update: Okay, so Nat's crew has come in and spiced things up a bit, but I still hope for some good R&R.

Okay, okay. After two years here, I finally had my first real celebrity sighting, meaning I alone did the actual sighting and identification of said person, without Katherine's help. Usually I don't realize that someone is a celebrity because they're less than B-stars, or totally obscure to me (Taylor Swift), or I'm oblivious to their presence.

Recently, I was in Bryant Park with Katherine at lunch, and I walked by some dude who was talking on his cellphone really loudly, and I remember thinking, "Man, that guy was annoying." Katherine turns to me and says something like "You realize that was John Turturro?" (I had seen Quiz Show just the night before, even.)

Anyway, this is totally going to sound lame. I was on Court St. walking back from dinner with a friend, and Alexis Bledel and some dude walked next to me, stopped at the intersection, then, are you ready...walked in front of me and into the Apple Tree. My ex Becky was a big Gilmore Girls fan, and I would watch it because I turned to pulp at the sight of Lauren Graham.

Katherine, I will stop by your desk for my certificate tomorrow morning.

This thread is bringing out the geek in me.

As I understand it, they are trying to come to an agreement as to what single video format for the HTML5 <video> tag can be used as the standard. The idea was that if a HTML5-able web browser encountered this tag, it would know exactly what kind of video to play and how to play it, without any plugins. The lack of this is why so many sites use flash-video instead.

It's so fascinating to follow the discussion as a standard is being shaped. There are two format (codec) choices: H264, which is used by Apple and (I believe) YouTube, and Theora, which is a open source codec. Depressingly, the discussion sort of ends with Ian Hickson, the spec writer, throwing his hands up in the air, because the current answer seems to be that we can't find a single format all the big players can agree on. Apple seems concerned with any potential patent issues surrounding Theora, Google says Theora's not technically good enough to handle their YouTube volume, Mozilla (Firefox) says H264 is too expensive to license, and Microsoft isn't even trying (they must be too busy making more ridiculous ads for IE8). And if everyone can't agree on one format, then the whole idea seems pointless--the big players have to *want* to agree on a format, because a spec can't force adoption. For example, the spec could be written, and Microsoft could just ignore it (Silverlight FTW!!!111), and then websites that use the tag are useless in IE8, so in the end, what once hoped to be a standard, isn't one.

Depressing indeed! But it's still interesting to hear the various responses, even from folks representing the big players, like Apple:



Ugh, it could be so much better, the web, and it seems like more often than not, non-technical issues are what holds these visions at bay.

I recently ran across this Dr. Seuss quote: “You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

I can't fall asleep, yet I'm suspect of this quote, as tomorrow I'm going to get up, make some arepas, pick up a zip car, and drive Breanne to the airport, where she will embark on her one way trip to San Francisco. I'm not going to put any money on me falling asleep right now and my dreams being worse than the reality of my best friend moving so, so far away.

I can't blame her for moving. I see her happy in San Fran. In my head there is a battle, on one side, despair over this loss, and on the other, excitement for her. I can't disagree with someone moving to a new place and experience a new environment. I'll never forget my move here, and how much happier I am. I can't imagine having stayed somewhere knowing I wasn't truly happy there.

A few weeks ago, she gave me a bag of things for me to remember her by: trail maps of upstate NY, so I can go on more hiking trips, the silly paulina t-shirt I borrowed a long time ago, and, last but not least, a Killface action figure.




Today, I helped her through her last pre-move chores: renting a zip car to take her kitties to the airport. She was so stressed out about it. It made me remember that out of all the scary New York things I thought about when I was moving, the biggest one was how I was going to be able to handle taking care of Chloe. After we dropped off the cats, we walked back into the car. She began to tell me which way to go, and then said, "I'm going to need a hug first." Poor thing was breaking down from the stress of it all.

We took a break, then went back to get a truck for phase 2: taking some items to her friend's basement, others to get shipped to CA via UPS (384 dollar's worth, including bike!), and some to Goodwill. Oh, I'm now the new recipient of lots of random perishable food items, including a "Threatening" bottle of "Dragonfart's Wet 'n Reddy Authentic New Mexican Organic Chipotle & Mango Barbeque Sauce And Hair Conditioner." Phew. That girl can handle heat.

Maybe that's the better reality, that I got to share a year with someone special enough whose absence has this kind of effect on me. She has been one of those life-changing friends.

Tomorrow morning will be a bittersweet ride.

Doesn't look like a day with a forecast for clouds and rain, does it?

On Sunday, Natalie invited me to go to Roosevelt Island, known as Punk Island for the day. It was one of the places having free concerts as part of the "Make Music New York" festivities going on around town.

Neither one of us are self proclaimed punk fans, although we have a band or two we like that could be classified as such. Our mutual curiosity to try new things, coupled with neither one of us having gone to Roosevelt Island, was enough to get our lazy butts out there.

Personally, I was excited. When I think of going to a place called "Punk Island", I visualize debauchery of an extreme sort. Tattooed guys and gals exchanging barf, blood, and whatever other bodily fluids possible through mosh pits, crowd surfing, and, hell, I don't know, extreme high five-ing? I'm way too normal and lame to know for sure. Either way, I thought it would be fun to photograph.

For extra fun, we were going to meet a few people Natalie met at some local punk meetup.



To our shock, though, once we arrived, we were notified by the meetup folks that they were going to be no-shows because of the rain-predicting forecast. What? Us non-hardcore gentiles were more willing to endure some drops of water than they? No worries. Just because we owned one or two Ace of Base CDs when we were young doesn't mean we couldn't brave this on our own. (Wait, was there more than one AOB CD? Rachel, if you're reading, help me out here.)



We went to the first show, "Chesty Malone and the Slice 'em Ups". I quickly realized this was not going to be a culinary knife skills class.

Ready for action, we sat as the band began to play.



The song started full blast, and as the singer grabbed the microphone, we embraced for the wrath of...is it just me or can I not hear any vocals? I asked Nat. Nope, she couldn't either. Apparently the sound system was messed up, so the vocals were all but indiscernible. It felt like a...like a.....how can I say this: a total bock clocker.

I kid, I kid, it wasn't so bad. In fact, I quite enjoyed it. You see, the few punk shows I've been to, I haven't liked much because they've been indoors, and the music is just too loud for my taste. However, out here in the open, the sound wasn't as distorted, and the acoustics were better for me. I mean, look at this dude, he's napping:



Hell, bring your daughter along and give her some Danzig coloring books so you can watch your concert in peace:



Pipe down kid! Trying to enjoy the show!

I digress. The location was actually kind of surreal. Various punk bands sprinkled on top of this very Colonial Williamsburg looking place. Turn to my left, see some dude is screaming a song about how the medical industry is going to "fuck you up!!!"; turn to my right...oh, look, Gorvachev hung out at this house before meeting with President Reagan in 1988. Let's go inside--oh wait, it's closed. In fact, a lot of the buildings are closed on the island, most notably, the building housing an exhibition named "WHAT'S GOING ON IN ROOSEVELT ISLAND", which is closed for renovations.




Since the island is but a spec of land at 22 square acres, the city employs small children for trash pickup and other park upkeep tasks. And, well, you know how silly kids can be. Look at this trick they're playing on us, at the Ferry waiting area:




That's not a 8 1/2x 11 sheet of paper temporarily affixed to the wall with scotch tape. Those are screws over a piece of plexiglass holding up that very permanent looking sign.

...



After some of the concerts, Natalie, her friend Katya (who met up with us later) and I walked over to the historic castle. Two very friendly park rangers greeted us and asked if we had any questions, at which point a dude next to us immediately asked, "Do you sell beer?" (No joke.) Unfortunately for him, the "WHAT'S GOING ON IN ROOSEVELT ISLAND" exhibition was closed, otherwise he'd know that no alcohol is allowed in the island, brought or bought. Thus, between that and the threat of rain, I must say that the "Punk Island" experience felt more chill than expected. The "Sunday School" of punk concerts, if you will. Nevertheless, there was still plenty of attractive punk eye candy, and good music to boot.



I don't know about you, but I'm tired. I think it's the perfect time for a nap. Hope you had a great weekend!

(A few more photos available here.)

I had full intention of going to the French place down the street this morning, sitting outside with Chloe, and taking a leisurely brunch. Croque Madame and coffee.

I also needed groceries, though, and today was Farmers market day, so I decided to do that first to get it out of the way.

I spent all of yesterday with Coney Island stuff, though, so I didn't bother thinking of what to make this week. I improvised. I got spinach for arepas with fresh mozzarella, mushrooms for a side, scallops for risotto, apples for breakfast, and strawberries for anything (they're in season, I got to take advantage!). Man, everything smelled so good. I passed a section of basil. I thought maybe I could instead make mozzarella, tomato, and pesto on a baguette instead of the arepas. And then I thought maybe I could make pasta. I was quickly getting overwhelmed with yummy choices.

By the time I was leaving, I no longer wanted to go to the French place. I wanted to cook! I went home and made a spinach and mushroom omelet. I took part of a baguette I bought and toasted it. I wanted it all!

I wished my dad was here instead of 1000 miles away, so I could have made him breakfast. He probably would have preferred his staple soup, changua. He swears by it, as it helped lower his cholesterol (he skips the egg). Now that I think about it, I should add it to my regular menu. I thought about what else he would have: Nescafe, of course! Surely to offend coffee aficionados, Nescafe instant coffee is a common staple in some South American countries, even for Colombians like my dad. That unique "is it or is it not coffee" taste just reminds me of my youth.

I put on some recently discovered Cumbias by Very Be Careful as I cooked. I was very attentive with my timing, so everything would be done in time...the heating up of the milk for the coffee and toasting of the baguette so both would be ready at the same time as the omelette.

Once served, I took everything outside and enjoyed a delicious brunch at home.



Wish you were here, dad.

On Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn, near Court Street, tons of people walk around, minding their own business; buying groceries at Trader Joes, eating Mexican food at the nearby restaurant, walking their pets around the 'hood.

What is not apparent is that underneath them is the world's oldest subway tunnel, lost in time until the 1980's, when a teenager named Bob Diamond finally found it after a hell of a lot of research and persistence. These days, he gives regular tours of the tunnel, which you nave to enter via a man hole in the middle of Atlantic Ave:



The tunnel is 17 feet high, 21 feet wide and 1,611 feet long. Apparently some dude a long time ago asked a lot of local business owners for a bunch of money for the demolition of the tunnel. He lied. Instead, he plugged up the tunnel, then planned to use the money on some other business venture.




What do spy satellites, Kodak, pirates, Indiana Jones, and glaciers have in common? They're all part of Diamond's fascinating tales behind this tunnel. You'll never find geology so entertaining. I won't give away all the details. Instead, I'll leave you with some photos.







If you are in the area, you should check it out.

More photos on my flickr set.

A night of uber nerdiness!

The team: "ScamWow". I.e. Breanne, her friend Wendy, and Yours Truly.
The mission: a handful of puzzles throughout two play areas: Hell's Kitchen and Williamsburg.

I was totally confused as to how this was going to work. I had recently done a bike scavenger hunt the week before, so I thought this was something along the same lines. I should have realized that this didn't involve bikes when I suggested our team name to be "Pedalphiles" and Breanne told me Wendy didn't have a bike. (This was the alternate team name for the bike scavenger hunt.)

The game started at 8pm on Saturday, at the 45th St. Theater ("The Tank"?), where I met with my team and received instructions. Each puzzle's solution would lead us to the next location and puzzle. There was an email bot we could send the answer to the current puzzle, at which point we could move on to the next.

Breanne received the first puzzle on her email:



We were down the right path in that maybe "booty" referred to pirate booty. But we had no idea where the party was at. Googling "party nyc" wasn't going to help us much. Eventually Breanne remembered that the initial email about this game said, "there is also a party at the tank at the same time as our start." Duh! We went back inside. On a different floor of the theater was a party going on, in which, get this, people were playing a live version of pitfall. We suddenly noticed a guy wearing an eye patch. Talking to him yielded a part of a four piece paper puzzle. After finding three other people with eye patches, we handed the four papers to the ladies at the front of the theater. They provided us with the next puzzle. Go Team ScamWow!

Before we could celebrate, we took a look at the second puzzle: a periodic table of the elements, with the title "Paquetazo Taco". This one would prove to be quite a bit more difficult. It's been a while since I've done a lot of puzzles, so the main skill I was lacking was simply the catalog of various logical approaches you can use to solve these things.

After some failed attempts, Breanne realized that the atomic number for a few of the elements was wrong. I had sure as hell forgotten that the atomic number goes up as you move to the right of the table, but then again, I've always sucked at chemistry. Once we figured out the handful of items whose weight was wrong, we got more hints. Each of them also had the various "oxidation states", which was in the form of +-n,+-n. It turns out that the solution was: for a given element name, we needed to offset the alphabet of each letter by the count corresponding to the oxidation state. So, for example, if the element was Br+1-1, then its decoded value was Cs. I know, right? Anyway, putting together all the decoded elements yielded the name of a mexican restaurant. After a quick quesadilla ($2.50 for two!), we got the next hint, which consisted of a random shopping list-like paper with food items listed on it. They corresponded to items on the restaurant's menu. Each item's quantity mapped to a letter position on the English version of the menu item. The sequence spelled out "intrepid bridge troll". What does this mean? This is where my newness to NYC handicaps me from these kinds of games. Luckily, the girls knew that there was a ship, the Intrepid, nearby. We walked to the water. Alas, there is a small bridge to walk over the West Side Highway, which takes you to the ship. But we would not need to go there.

Under the bridge was a man sitting on a bench next to a small boom box. We said hello, and he went on a sob story about his wife or girlfriend, and how he would need to be entertained to get in a better mood. He turned on the boom box, which played a mix of 15 second clips of "classic" songs from years past: Macarena, Electric Boogie, YMCA, etc. It became clear that we had to dance to these songs in order to get our next clue. Such a great image, a bunch of geeks dancing to these songs right next to Pacha and other hoochie mama clubs nearby. Success!

The troll provided our next clue, in the form of a business card bearing the name "Mr. Qwerty, Talent Agent". All it said was "L to Bedford", followed by a set of cryptic words like "234esz", "64dvcvb", etc. I was thinking of some kind of simple algorithm code like ROT13, but these codes have numbers. As we rode on the train, we pulled out keyboards and tried to figure the code out. It suddenly hit me: it wasn't a code. When you typed these sequences of letters and numbers, they "drew" a letter or number on the keyboard. The keys "234esz" on a qwerty keyboard loosely resemble a 7. We decoded the set of letters and we got an address: 173 3rd St. I was so happy to have finally provided something useful for the team.

We arrived at a laundromat which was clearly the right place. There were way too many people sitting down brainstorming for them to just be there doing laundry, which, by the way, really confused the people who were actually doing laundry. The next hint came in the form of a piece of prose. Certain letters were capitalized and bold, others in italics, and others underlined. Segregating them resulted in the phrases: "basic solution", "red herring", and "just ask paulin". Once again, my ignorance failed the team. Then again, none of us knew this: Pauling is a famous chemist. (Then again, the hint didn't have the "g".) Also, there as a bin with a bottle of All, a bottle of 409, and a copy of Moby Dick. After a long time coming up with nothing, we were given a hint: "Think like a chemist. Think like Pauling." Several teams were hanging out with us, all at dead ends. We decided to seek hints. I took a photo of the All bottle's ingredients so we could brainstorm.



One of the hint-givers (a.k.a. "game control" folks) was at a nearby bagel place. While Breanne got hints, a co-worker of mine walked in. How random!



We went to a bar to take a break. It's past 1am by now, so my brain was a bit fried from all this "thinking". Nothing a shot of Patron and a Ginger+Jameson couldn't fix. I had half of the most disgusting tomato soup, and we were back to game-on.

We eventually gave up and sought the answer to the "basic solution" puzzle. Are you ready for this? You had to spray the bottle of 409 on the piece of paper containing the prose, and a chemical reaction showed hidden text with the right answer. UGH! At this point, we were debating on giving up. We began walking to the subway. On the way there, we passed this isolated fancy looking organic store. It was packed full of people, which seemed odd. We then passed by Mccarren Park, where we ran into another team looking for the next meetup point. We found it nearby:



We got swayed into not giving up. The next puzzle was nearby, on a poster wall:



A list of groceries. Hmm, well I'll be damned. An image of that organic store flashed in my head. No wonder it was so packed!

We arrived and began looking at what these groceries can tell us. At this point, we were more about buying and eating some of these instead of playing games with them. Breanne bought a big bag of kettle popcorn and we fueled up. Eventually, we were given enough hints to know we needed to draw a birds eye view map of the store. Connecting the list in order spelled out the answer to the puzzle, which took us to a random street nearby, with yet another puzzle. How many more of these were there?



This one we couldn't figure out either, but we know it involved scratch and sniff. "Think like a dog." It was 3:30am at this point, so we instead thought like lazy people and gave up on this one after a mild effort, moving on to the next puzzle. We arrived at a video game being projected onto the street:



It was actually a video looping a short fight from the old school Street Fighter video game. This puzzle turned out to be so hard that nobody got it. Not even the geniuses who were way ahead of us. I think everyone speculated that it involved translating the special moves to city blocks, as we had been all given the Street Fighter 2 instructions, which showed the sequence of directions for each special move. However, there were many variants that would give you the wrong answer: do you count moves that don't result in physical contact between the two fighters? Does the direction they face change the direction of the arrow mappings? These were the game's downfall. If you got just one of them wrong, you'd end up blocks away from the right answer. Verifying the permutations would be too time consuming. I tried canvassing a few blocks, as I had my bike, but I found nothing.

Eventually, the organizers had to all but tell us the answer. We began walking to the destination. Wendy said, "Oh man, the sun is coming out." We found two people near the water, congratulating ScamWow for being team #8 to arrive here. Of course, we didn't figure out the last handful of puzzles, so we didn't care. We gave ourselves kudos for friggin' staying around. There were 38 teams at the beginning, after all. It was 5am at this point.



We said our thanks and good-byes to the organizers. I put my bike on a cab's trunk, and we all rode home. Oh sleepy time, how I missed you.

I have to help troubleshoot a problem one of our clients, a TV station, is having. It turns out that the TV station is WOFL in my home town of Lake Mary.

Funny.

When I was in middle school, I rode my bike there with my best friend Brian. I mean, a bunch of satellites piled on top of a building seemed really cool then. In a town our size at the time, this was the closest you could get to space age rocket science, other than the occasional distant view of space shuttles launching.

Someone must have spotted "some kids" outside the WOFL building, because a man walked outside towards us. I thought we he was going to tell us to beat it. Instead, he went the diplomatic route and gave us a couple of WOFL caps.

These days, when I go home to see my folks, I see a Lake Mary which is much different than the one I grew up in, but I can still recall the sound of the announcer for WOFL, mainly because I do a fair job of impersonating it to my brothers.

Well, back to troubleshooting.

See if the soundtrack for the Song From The Uproar concert is available. Saw it recently with Nat & Co. at the Galapagos Art Space and I really enjoyed it.

Anyone up for going to see Balkan Beat Box @ The Bell House, Sun 7:30pm?

Bell House NY

I made Leslie's kick ass vegetable curry recipe last night. Breanne came over. She picked a random B movie off Netflix. We ate and got drunk off a cheap bottle of wine.

The movie was so terrible it was worth reviewing.



I doubt it will pass review, but it's worth a shot.

In response to my comment that women in NYC are flaky:

"Oh, girls are like taxi cabs. Just wait for the next one to come by."

A++

From the next MST3-K meetup event:



I cannot wait to go see this. If you're interested in coming along, shoot me an email.

"Home Depot is the world's greatest collection of not quite what I'm looking for."

Georgia park ranger to a out of town London based band looking to camp there for the night: "Y'all be careful. Come on vacation, leave on probation."