the butt stops here

(photo from nytimes.com)

So it's official.

Roy is an innovator, a style-guru, a taste-maker if you will.

Months ago he purchased the Toto Washlet and people scoffed at his acquisition. But now, almost 5 months later people are reading about it in The New York Times and they're finally catching on...or dare I say, getting on?

just curious

(photo from flickr)

What is the appropriate response when someone falls asleep on a totally packed subway car ON. YOUR. SHOULDER. and begins to snore like a drowning gremlin? Is beating them with my over-stuffed gym bag too severe? Plugging their nostrils with the gum under my seat, over the top?

jack is so grounded

Officially, Jack and I are not speaking.
This morning as I got up to go to run, I picked him up to say hello and snuggle a bit. He was content with this as he purred, closed his eyes and snuggled in. And then it happened.

He swatted me IN THE FACE. Not a normal swat, sans the death claws, but full force Wolverine-style.

I was bleeding.

BLEEDING, BLOOD WAS DRIPPING FROM MY SKIN!

I am SO not talking to him.
After he did it, I didn't drop him and scream. I held him and looked at him and said NO! in my most convincing baritone Roy voice.

Not cool, little cat, not cool.

This is officially reason #756,807 that I want a puppy, not a wolf in Jack's clothing.

early morning tales of foolish ambition

After 2 weeks of gorging myself, I have restarted my exercise routine.

*sigh*

This morning I went for a run at 530 (my internal clock has not readjusted itself and so I am WIDE. AWAKE. AT. 4AM.) It was nice, a little chilly and very quiet.

It wasn’t until I got back to Poplar that I realized that my teeny (I thought no one will see them) undergarments were sticking out of the top of my shorts like a little whale tail.

So all those stares in my direction on the Brooklyn Bridge this morning, they weren’t silent encouragements, as I had assumed, they were early morning gawkers—at my protruding white arse.

Quite a way to announce to the neighborhood that I'm back in town.

shorter than a 12.5 hour flight

Found this video online from an Israeli guitarist, who sent it to his friends to show them a little more of Israel then what they see on TV. I thought I'd share it with you all. I miss it already.

*sniffle*

saddened

(taken from the New England Holocaust Memorial, Boston)

Yesterday swastikas and other anti-semitic pamphlets and placards were found on apartment buildings, synagogues and cars in Brooklyn Heights.

I don't want to give these hateful people too much attention (this also includes Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad) as they've already had coverage on the news and online, but I thought it important to say something.

Especially after reading the above link where a local realtor, Kevin Carberry, was quoted as saying; "It's irrational and it's sad, but I don't think it has anything to do with me. I'm Irish. "

Mr. Carberry, this can happen anywhere, and when it happens, no matter your affiliation, it applies to YOU.

american cornball

Saturday Anne and Linds are having a party.

A cornhole party.

Sounds slightly pornographic, but hardly as fun. It's a glorified shuffleboard with bean bags and beer.

What is most entertaining about this "sport" is seeing grown-up, well-educated people losing their minds over their lack of hand-eye coordination. I think I might take some video. To tell you how serious this is, last time in June, the party was just a BBQ with some cornhole involved. This weekend, the Evite said; "There will be less food, more booze... we will be outside for the most part, so dress accordingly."

First of all, that's barely possible. I think there were more handles of booze last time than guys in Nantucket Reds.

Second, I am not sure how well we'll be playing cornhole at 7pm IN.THE.DARK.

I guess thats why we have to "dress accordingly."