The Most Spoiled Dog in the World

Meet Mimi, mother of Roland. Mimi lives with my parents down South on 5 acres of land with two giant black labs. They live outside. She lives inside. She sleeps in my parent's bed, and when not asleep can be found perched on the couch with my mom or, as seen here, on the recliner with my dad.

This is her on Christmas day. She ate what we ate. This included: lamb, ham, spanikopita, tiropitakia, potato salad, deviled eggs, shrimp pilaffi...and some other stuff I can't remember. She also always has a full dish of dog food. She is ridiculously spoiled.

Three bottle minimum

Here's a nice little New Year's Eve story from the New York Post that will fill your hearts with gladness. Oh New York. $350 for a bottle of vodka?

December 30, 2007 -- Call it a bottle-service beatdown.

An evening out at the trendy Times Square nightclub Arena ended for a recent NYU grad when bar staff overcharged him $1,000, beat him, frog-marched him to an ATM and had him arrested for not buying enough liquor, according to court papers.

Gregory Barnard, 22, is now suing the club for $2 million over his bruising. He filed the suit last week in Manhattan Supreme Court.

Arena charges up to $350 for a bottle of vodka. What Barnard did not know was that the club has a three-bottle minimum.

Barnard's party in June petered out after one bottle, so when he called for the check, the waitress told him that he would have to pay $700 over his tab for two bottles he never drank.

He refused.

Barnard handed over his bank card, but after running it several times, the waitress claimed it was denied, he said.

A bouncer threw him to the floor and held him down while two other bouncers punched and kicked him, he said.

They then picked Barnard up and walked him two blocks to an ATM for more money, but the bank had frozen his card because the waitress had already charged $1,400 on it, swiping the card at least nine times, he said.

He said the bouncers dragged him back to the bar, where he waited until police arrived and arrested him for theft of services.

The charges were dismissed.

Celebrating Christmas and Celebrities

Though I was recently in New Orleans myself (more on my travel woes in a subsequent entry), I do not actually have any Jolie-Pitt stories of my own to report. [Though we did get a gander at the pink house/tent-thingie installation that Brad Pitt had commissioned in the Lower Ninth Ward, while waiting for a certain traveler from Chicago to arrive after a much-delayed flight home.]

But I what I do have is a funny Jolie-Pitt story e-mailed to me from a friend - he's the photo assignment editor at my previous paper. So I thought I'd share it here. Please feel free to share your own encounters with the famous or semi-famous. In Bucky's World we like to live vicariously.

So I had a brief brush with greatness while in NOLA.

I never leave home without some vacation meat in my ice chest.

And this year I took three slabs of smoked ribs with me to help out with the holiday cooking.

Turns out my brother in-law's frig was so packed the only place I had to keep my meat was in the ice chest in the trunk of my car.

Well, anyway, come along about Wednesday evening last week my bro in-law and I went into the Quarter to buy more ice.

While he was screwing around in the store I decided to unload my ice chest and pour the water off and then repack it while parked in the Quarter.

So while I as busy doing that I see this little biking family coming down the street.

It's a mommy and daddy team pulling a double child carrier trailer behind his bike, while mom had a child seat on the back of her bike with another tike strapped in.

Feeling that natural bike rider connection I made up my mind I would speak to them as they rolled by me.

As I threw my own bike rack back into my trunk I looked up and said,

"Hey, how are you folks this evening."

As I got the last word out of my mouth I realized I was looking right at Brad Pitt.

And if daddy is Brad Pitt, the mommy must be ANGELINA JOLEE.

And sure enough, yes, it was Brad and Angelina just cycling around the quarter on their bikes with no paparazzi in sight and just me and them out there on the street.

I felt like a guy who just got a hole in one, and no witnesses.

Brad rolled by and said "we're doing ok." While Angelina just smiled and said "hi" as she peddled by.

And so that is my brush with greatness.

Pretty much after that everything else was uneventful.

Except the ribs of course, mmmmmm, mmmmmm, good.

New Year's Eve Eve ponderings

One of my reporters called me today to invite me to a New Year's Eve bash at her boyfriend's apartment. She said, "I wasn't sure if you had plans, but I wanted to invited you over. There will be lots of booze."

This was very nice since a) of course I have no plans and b) I now will not have to discover what happens when one drinks an entire bottle of champagne by oneself.

But then she added, "Matt (her boyfriend) says bring a date. Oh and Mike (his roommate) says bring a date for him." Laughter. Then she goes on to say that I should feel free...in fact encouraged to bring friends. This has given me pause because now I feel like if I go I'm SUPPOSED to bring at least one friend. But here's the thing — I don't have any friends. Not here. Not real friends. Not the kind you call up and invite to parties.

What I have here are pre-existing friends, mostly from graduate school, almost all from journalism (though not necessarily still practicing) all of whom are married with children. I have two ex's; not married, with children (well, one each). And then I have the new people I've met who either live in my apartment complex, are students that I've tutored or work with me. I'm close to none of them.

So I've been here a year and a half and I'm beginning to wonder what is wrong with me. I would like to blame it on my job or suburban living but I'm beginning to think those are just excuses. Am I a less friendly person? Am I more hesitant to just invite myself along or break into conversation with people? I think it is I that must be different, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Could I just be tired of meeting new people?

Should I make a new year's resolution to make new friends? That makes me sound like I'm 10. But it would be nice to have people to call up and say, "Would you like to go for coffee?" And it would be nice to have them call me up and ask if I'd like to go out for a drink or 12.

And, anyway, when you are in your 30s with no hobbies and you work nights, including Fridays and Saturdays, how do you meet people that don't work in the same office as you? We don't even share a building with other businesses, so you have the chance of meeting folks in the hallway. This new phase of my career is very insular, isn't it? Any thoughts, blogosphere?

Survey Says: Hipsters are annoying, even to Greeks

Save Astoria from hipsters say Greeks
BY NICHOLAS HIRSHON
DAILY NEWS WRITER

A growing number of college students are uniting online to rescue Astoria's famous Greek culture from "guitar-playing hipsters" they charge are ruining the increasingly artsy neighborhood.

Formed a few weeks ago on the social networking site Facebook, the Save Astoria group urges members - about 150 as of late Thursday - to prevent the hipsters from turning churches and cafes into "wasteful art exhibits."

Its five organizers, all former or current students at Fordham University, note Greeks' history of banding together and becoming "a formidable force" during tough times. They ask followers to support only Greek businesses.

"Invite all your friends and bring public attention to this issue before it is too late!" plead the group leaders, who didn't return e-mails and phone calls seeking comment.

"I guess they have a problem with people who go out and free ourselves with our music," snarled David Guevara, 18, of Astoria, who sings and plays guitar in a rock band.

The group's grievance that hipsters are driving out "the souvlaki guy on the corner" was met with disbelief from Chris Sourlis, owner of Gyro Uno on Steinway St.

"That's not true. Who said that?" asked Sourlis, 53, insisting the hipsters aren't his Achilles heel. "It's not like I'm not going to survive."

George Delis, district manager of Queens Community Board 1, blasted the Facebook organizers for assuming only Greeks belong in western Queens.

"How can any ethnic group claim Astoria as its own?" he said. "It's not going downhill. The community continues to thrive, and property values continue to climb."

Other Greeks distanced themselves from the group's call for battle against long-haired music lovers.

"We don't personally feel at war. Everyone can co-exist," said Athens-raised Ekavi Valleras, 27, a former program coordinator at Astoria's Greek Cultural Center.

Many even welcome the changes. For Jared Koeppel, manager of the Guitar Center at Northern Blvd. and 48th St., the emergence of a hipster base in Astoria has been a godsend.

"I wish that there were more. I don't think there are enough," said Koeppel, 30. "We sell more classical guitars than pretty much any store in the world."

In case you want to see the original, here the Daily News link.

How do you like dem apples? Not at all: Day 6 (McIntosh)

This smallish, red apple with yellow speckling is not a good apple. It has a weird pear-like taste and while makes a big crunching noise, is actually soft and a little mealy inside. The meat of the apple is white and it has a bizarrely thin peel (which according to NY Apple Country.com makes it cook down faster).

For your history lesson: The apple has been around since 1811, when John McIntosh discovered the first seedling. McIntosh apples grow particularly well in New York's cool climate...apparently.

Outsourcing the news

Another depressing item marking the decline of newspapers:

The Miami Herald is outsourcing some of its ad production work to India. Starting in January, copyediting and design in a weekly section of Broward County community news and other special ad sections will be outsourced to Mindworks, based in New Delhi. The project is still in the testing phase, so it wasn’t clear if or how employment in South Florida will be affected. Earlier this month, the Sacramento (Calif.) Bee, also owned by McClatchy, announced it would outsource some of its ad production work to India. In May, news Web site pasadenanow.com was widely criticized after editors hired two reporters in India to cover the Los Angeles suburb (WSJ, p.B3; AP).

One rotten apple spoils the bunch: Day 5 (Rome)

I took two bites of this apple and tossed it. There was nothing at all good about it. It was mealy and it was bland. Stay away from it at all costs. It was so bad I didn't even bother taking any notes on it. It's red. And it's bad. That's all you need to know.

My experience with this apple was especially disappointing because I was starving and had brought it with me to eat on my trip home for the holidays. Blah. I'd rather starve. Luckily Continental provided me with a significant snack on the trip. Love live Continental.

Anyway, according to the New York State apple page (not it's official name), it is perfect for frying. I do not eat apples in any form other than raw. I cannot stand almost all cooked fruit, but most especially cooked apples. Anyway, the site also claims it is mildly tart, but I didn't taste tart. It must have been super, extra MILDLY tart.

Anyway, it's an old apple, which originated in Ohio in 1816 but is widely grown in New York State. I think it's time we retire this apple. But I guess that's just me.

¡Oye!

How could I have forgotten to mention that I made a 99 on my Spanish final! A 99!

I actually missed three questions — all verb tenses and two were exactly the same. The past tense conjugation of dar (to give). I actually knew the conjugation, but for some reason kept putting down the first person singular conjugation (I) instead of the third person (he/she/you formal), even though I knew it needed the third and I knew what the third was. I just didn't read back over closely enough. ALWAYS my problem. The third missed answer was because I used the preterit tense where the imperfect past was needed.

Anyway, I wound up with a 99 because she liked my essay so much that I got bonus points for it. Hurray! She said I wrote an amazing essay, actually. I went by her office to drop off a Christmas card and she had already graded all our tests and asked if I wanted to see mine.

So I have an A+ in the class and now, allegedly, I'm an advanced student. I still don't feel very advanced. We'll see how I do in Spain this summer. [Note the assumption here that I'll be doing something cool this summer, as opposed to slumming around Baton Rouge, Chicago or Memphis, as per my usual vacation plans.]

iApple: Day 4 (Cameo)

The Cameo has a red and yellow spotty skin with a yellow meat. It has a sweet, light taste and is crunchy. It's from Washington state and is a fairly new apple, created in the late 80s. They are available from September to January. It's a tasty apple, but at $1.04 an apple, too pricey to add to my apple diet.

The City

I went into the City today. I had the day off, because I have these comp days I wasn't expecting to have and I have to take them by the end of the year and I ain't got a lot of year left. So I went to do some specialty Christmas shopping. That was a very disappointing endeavor. I bought you people some gifts, but don't expect to be wowed by them...actually, Deadman, your gift wasn't bought. As I mentioned in my text message to you, I went to a book signing and the author canceled due to illness. No gift for you. I hope you like cheesecake.

Anyway, I digress. On Fridays from 4-10 p.m. The Museum of Modern Art is free. This is thanks to Target, which sponsors Target Free Fridays. (Did I need more reason to love Target? I love you Target.) I enjoyed MOMA. I've never been before and it's not nearly as bizarre as P.S.1, which I like...sometimes...but at lot of it I find a little pretentious. However, I now have a free entry to P.S.1 to use in the next 60 days because it's included in the price of MOMA entrance, even when that entrance is free. However, I don't know that I'll be making my way out to Queens any time soon.

Anyway, it's really not that big of a museum. There was a special Seraut exhibit of his charcoal sketches, which were really cool. Plus I got to "Birth of A Nation" by Joan Miro, which I wrote the paper on in my Spanish Class. I saw more Picasso. (Yawn) I am very much OVER Picasso, since my jaunt through the exhaustingly extensive Picasso museum in Spain. There were water lilies and "Starry Night" and some Jackson Pollocks and Andy Warhols, including the Campbell Soup Cans.

I went and saw the tree too. It's very nice this year. I was impressed by it's giantness this time around. I was not the only person who thought so. There was a lot of chatter on the non-tourist side of the tree (the side that isn't viewed from across the skating rink) about the tree and how pretty and full it was. "Not THAT's a tree," someone next to me said.

"It came from Connecticut," said someone else in a tone that clearly denoted that only New Englanders knew how to pick the Rock Center tree, and that it should never EVER again be left to Northwest.

Oh, and I almost forgot the best part of my day. I saw Stanley Tucci on Lexington Avenue. Yeah! Finally, a celebrity sighting. I wanted to run up to him and declare my undying love, but there were some stern looking me with clipboards following him and they seem to be discouraging me from doing so. I'm not sure they were even with him, but they were discouraging nonetheless. Plus, I would have my New York driver's license revoked for such behavior. Alas, next time, Stanley, next time.

Update: Stalker & Snow

So yesterday we got this massive snowstorm. (Thanks Midwest.) I woke up early — an hour before the snow was supposed to arrie — to try and go to the dry cleaners but it was snowing already. So I went to do laundry, and it was like an office Christmas party in there. There was a line of people waiting to use the machines. This one woman, Jane (her real name, not made up to protect her identity), says "Everyones staying home. Everything's closed. Even the mall."

"Not the newspaper," I said. "I gotta go to work."

Then Jane says, "I have someone who is really interested in you. A GUY. Do you know who it is?"

I was confused at first, but then she started to describe him and I knew immediately it was my second stalker, the one that works here.

"He wants to ask you out," Jane said.

"He already has," I said.

"I know," she said. "But he asked me to put in a good word for him." Then she started extolling his virtues. Then she added, "You should think about it."

I did not do laundry.

I had to go to work. So I walked to the train, took the 17 minute ride north, walked from the station to the newspaper. Work was fine. About 8 inches fell near work...less here where I live. When I got home I noticed something odd: my car was not covered in snow. In fact, someone had dug my car out. At first I thought, "Maybe someone dug my car out thinking it was there." But there are no cars that look like mine and my car had been brushed cleaned. So no one mistook my car. I realized with some dread that it was Stalker 2. It was double dread, actually. That he had actually de-snowed my car, but also that he knew which was my car.

This morning as we were all out moving our cars so they could plow the lot, he drove up on his golf cart and said, "I'll give you one guess who dug your car out."

"Oh that was you? Thanks. I thought someone cleaned my car by mistake." It was not a very good response. Later I realized I should have said that I thought it was my boyfriend who did it as a surprise. I've got to learn to think on my feet faster.

An Apple a Day: Day 3 (Granny Smith)

I don't think you really need my impressions of a Granny Smith apple, but I'm trying all of them. So this list wouldn't be complete without the ole' GS app. This apple has a green skin and a green meat. It is crunchy and tart, which I like. This apple, however, had a particularly thick skin. I don't think that's normal, but it really put me off this particular apple because it was like chewing throw plastic to get to the apple. If I hadn't been at work, I would have peeled it.

This is a very old apple, created in something like 1850 by Maria Ann Smith. She and her husband orchardists in Australia. The apple now grows wild in New Zealand.

That's all I have on Granny Smith. I'll try to pick a more exciting apple for tomorrow.

Apple of My Eye: Day 2 (Gala)

So I actually ate this apple yesterday and I'm a day behind, but we'll just pretend this is Day 2 and go on with the illusion from here.

Today's apple is a Gala apple. My impression is that this is a good apple. It has a light red skin and a yellow meat. It is very crunchy. (Good!) The first bite seemed very sour and made all those glands in the back of your mouth that water, water and go all crazy. But after the first bite the tartness goes away and is very tasty. It's a very consistent apple. It would make a good addition to a fruit salad too.

According to my New York apple page, this is an apple made for kids. I'm not sure what that says about me. Also, not a NY apple at all, but one developed in New Zealand. Though the site also says it has a mild, sweet flavor and clearly that doesn't go with my first bite impression, but does fit with the rest of my apple experience.

The Big Apple: Day 1 (Empire)

Before I moved to New York, I knew of only three kinds of apples: red, green and yellow.

To be honest, I knew the red ones were called Red Delicious and the green ones were Granny Smith. My parents also had an apple tree that grew little apples that they claim are called "Anna Apples". I have no idea if this is true. Also, I still have no idea what the yellow ones were and mostly they turned up in holiday fruit baskets.

Since moving here, however, I have learned there are hundreds of varieties of apples. I've also learned that apple picking season is in the fall, not the spring/summer like most fruits I know. In the fall, not only are there apples galore, but apple doughnuts and apple cider hit the circuit big time.

My favorite of apple is now The Pink Lady. It is on the shelves for only a very short period of time...maybe two months, starting in September. It is a wonderfully sweet, crunchy apple. Really it's all I could ever want in an apple.

Alas, since it's season is so short, I've decided to sample my through every apple I can fine in New York and report to you my impressions of these apples. I bought six different kinds at the store the other night. One of each. The woman behind the counter looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Are you making a pie?"

"No," I said, "I just like apples. I like different kinds of apples." This sounded incredibly dumb coming out of my mouth.

Anyway, moving along to the point of all this exposition. Today's apple: The Empire. (Pictured above.)

I give this apple a thumbs down. It's a beautiful looking apple with a sort of marbled red, pink and yellow skin and a white meat. But it is an exercise in opposites. It is crunchy to the bite, but soft and mealy to the chew. (I HATE mealy apples!) It is both sweet and sour to the taste. I think this apple would be better served in a salad or a sandwich, not eaten alone.

After writing my impression of this apple, I went to do some research. The apple, apparently was created by the New York State Agricultural Experiment Station in Geneva (Ontario County, not Switzerland) in 1966. And my impression seems to be consistent with its description. You can read more about it here.

A long overdue Spanish update

Somehow six days have gone by since that last entry and I have nothing to show for it. I have spent all my free time this week tutoring Spanish students as finals start on Monday.

My 101 students had oral exams the week I was in Chicago and my 102 students had them this week. I don't know how they all did, yet. Most of them I see again on Monday. Actually all but two of them I see on Monday. One I see on Tuesday and the student who was taking 101 online I'm done with. (In case I haven't stated my opinion on this before, taking a foreign language online as anything other than a refresher course is a VERY VERY BAD idea.VERY BAD.)

I am happy to report, however, that my very worst student - she who falls asleep during class and can't remember basic verbs like escuchar (to listen) or vocabulary like pero (but) - somehow, who knows how, made an 86 on her oral exam. She credits my tutoring. I think it must have been dumb luck.

As for me, this semester has mostly been a review with focus on culture and in-class discussions, so having the same teacher from last semester hasn't turned out half bad. After class on Thursday she told me I was getting really good at Spanish. I think I sound ridiculous when I speak, misconjugating verbs and stumbling over pronunciation. But I think she likes that I try and I'm always willing to answer when everyone else just sits there quietly (even though most of them are much better speakers than I am). I also think that maybe they don't understand what she's asking. Sometimes I don't either, but then I ask her to repeat it or I just through out a "No entiendo su pregunta" and she'll either rephrase it so I understand it or just ask me in English.

Anyway, I'm off to study my baseball vocabulary. Wish me luck!

A brief non-musical interlude

If I weren't so tired from my 9 p.m. delayed to 10 p.m. flight from O'Hare to Newark that got me home over icy roads and foggy, mere feet in front of me visibility at 4 a.m. this morning, I'd have a lot to talk about. Chicago. Snow. Planes. How snow and planes don't mix. LSU Football (now appearing in a national championship near you). How hard it is to explain the subjunctive mood when exhausted.

But all of that will have to wait because I'm in no condition to type and stay awake. I will report that I am healthy and have no cavities according to the recent doctor and dentist appointments I've had. Next stop, eyes. Full report tomorrow.

Hopefully all of this is spelled correctly. And makes senses. And is in English. Stay tuned.

Tree lightings, ice skating — the holiday tourism season must be on its way

The big tree lighting in Rockefeller Plaza is set for Wednesday night. I thought, for some reason, they did it right after Thanksgiving; that weekend. But I guess it's a week later. Obviously, as I will be in Chicago, I won't have a report from the tree lighting ceremony. (I know you will all be heartbroken.) But I will try to make it down there before Christmas and give you a report on how it compares to previous years and perhaps I'll have some crappy camera phone pictures to share.

In the meantime, I give you ice skating at the plaza:



What's amazing about the skaters is that while some are you obvious tourist, many of them are regulars and some of those people are even expert level. The night we went and watched these skater, my friend and I had created a whole backstory for these expert skaters. One of them was really cracking us up because he wasn't skating so much as dancing...and it was bad 80s-style-would-have-made-Michael-Jackson-proud dancing. If you ever have free time to kill in NYC in the winter, you should spend a little time watching the skaters. It will crack you up.

Blog Blahs

I haven't forgotten you, Dear Blog. I've just been too depressed to write. Plus I haven't had any adventures lately, nor travels of any kind....just travails and of the boring, lonely variety. However, if you like, I'll blog all about my exciting Thanksgiving to come. It will involve Rice-A-Roni and the inability to remove myself from the futon where I will be watching the whatever-a-thon that USA has chosen to air this year. And if you think THAT'S exciting, just wait till we get to Christmas....

Oh, but wait, maybe you can help with this. I have Tuesday through Monday off of next week. I was supposed to have vacation plans. They fell through. This comes as no surprise to anyone, probably not even me, if I were being truthful. Anyway, any last minute, single girl travel suggestions?

Spanish Art

This week in Spanish class we had to write papers on an artist. Thus the painting to the left. I wrote about Joan Miro, who I mistakenly though was French, but who in fact is from Barcelona. At least he lived in Paris for a long while. That makes me feel a little better about it. His art amuses me. This one is called "The Birth of the World" ("el nacimiento de mundo"). I used it in my paper as my example of the work he's most famous for. It was also a nice illustration of the type of work that at first glance people (like certain Spanish instructors at community college) might a 5-year-old could do, but which has a more complicated technique (note the background looks like a mix of trees and swamps and evokes the feeling of a primordial ooze from which the world crawled out of) and also a meaning, which is not childlike at all (note the giant orange balloon/sperm that catches the eye). Anyway, that's what I've been tied up with later. We'll see what my nemesis the Spanish Teacher says when the papers come back on Thursday.

Where do we live again?

Saw this headline on Yahoo tonight:

"US among worst in world for infant death"

What is wrong with us?! We have no excuse for this. We don't have a guerrilla war going on, we don't have a lack of doctors or access to medicine.

"The United States ranks near the bottom for infant survival rates among modernized nations. A Save the Children report last year placed the United States ahead of only Latvia, and tied with Hungary, Malta, Poland and Slovakia."

Good news, though. We're still ahead of places with famine and total abject poverty.

"A 2005 World Health Organization report found infant mortality rates as high as 144 per 1,000 births — more than 20 times the U.S. rate — in Liberia."

Another reason to love Illinois

COLUMBUS, Ohio, Nov. 10 — The meltdown happened a few weeks earlier this season for No. 1 Ohio State.

Last season, the undefeated Buckeyes were blown away by Florida in the national title game. This season, the flop came sooner, and perhaps more spectacularly, for the again undefeated Buckeyes.

Behind a relentless defense and four touchdown passes by quarterback Isaiah Williams, unranked and enigmatic Illinois stunned the Buckeyes, 28-21, before 105,453 fans on Saturday at Ohio Stadium.

The loudest roars from this upset may have come from Eugene, Ore., as Oregon will likely leap to No. 2 in the Bowl Championship Series standings. That will mean that the Ducks, who were idle this weekend, would play Louisiana State, the likely new No. 1, in the national title game if the season were to end this weekend.

Wisconsin’s victory takes the Big Ten out of the title race, much to the relief of college football fans in the West and South, who have been skeptical of the caliber of the league all season.

I don't know. I was cheering pretty loud.

Strike or not to strike

What I'm wondering today is: As a writer should I feel solidarity with those striking (mostly in LA and NYC) right now? And if so, why then do I feel so indifferent?

I feel a little sad, I guess, but mostly because I'll miss new episodes of Heroes and some other TV shows I'm embarrassed to admit I like.

Maybe the reason I find it so hard to sympathize or, really even care, is because of how little WE get paid. It makes the TV/Film writers seem a little whiny. Then again, maybe I'm just the one being whiny.

Grand Central

I'm exhausted from work, so I'm just going to post a couple pictures of Grand Central Terminal. (Note: NOT station — a common mistake and one that really angers copy editors) This is my view from the floor, where I'm often forced to sit because I JUST missed the previous train home and the next one isn't for another hour or two and inevitable all the shops and Starbucks have closed so there's nothing for me to do but sit and wait. Oh the money Starbucks would make if it would just stay open all night.

Oxi Day

Today is a big civic holiday in Greece. (By today I mean Sunday.) It is/was Oxi Day, which translates to No Day. It's the day we celebrate the country's refusal to let Axis powers stroll through the country and use it as a base of operation during the war. So instead Italy attacked us and thus we entered World War II. It happens every Oct. 28.

Also on Oct. 28, Dick Cheney arrived in Dutchess County to do a little hunting and Porter Wagoner died and The Red Sox won the world series.

It's been a busy day.

Today also marks the seventh day in a row that I have work. This is because, just as George Bush did on this same weekend back in (when was it Deadman? 2003? 2004?), the veep has rolled into my life on Halloween weekend when a friend was visiting from out of town and thus said friend had to spend the weekend exploring the city alone. And I didn't even have a Philosophy Student Party to take her to!

That is also why this blog is woefully out-of-day. I can't wait for Nov. 6 to come and go. I hate elections. Actually, I need to rename Election Day as my own personal Oxi Day.

Your weekly stalker update

I'm happy to report that downstairs stalker has seemingly made friends with most of the people in this building and the next and thus I don't see much of him. The downside of this is that he has everyone over to his apartment until all hours and they play loud (bad) music and talk even louder. The entire building reeks of cigarette smoke and there is often vomit in the hallway and half-empty cups, which slowly grow mold until I get completely grossed out and throw them away. I know it's seems like I live in a frat house, only the people involved are in their late 40s/early 50s. This seems a small price to pay, however, for my freedom.

The other stalker, however, has stepped up his stalkerness - as if he has to cover both stalker shifts on his on since the neighbor-stalker has slacked off. Most mornings, he's driving his little golf cart by my apartment, picking up nonexistent garbage from the yard. Inevitably when I go out to walk the dog, he finds us. On Thursday or Friday — I can't remember which now — he passed me once and said hello and then circled around and stopped just in front of me and got out of his cart, so I couldn't avoid him. He says, "So are you and your boyfriend still together?"

"Yes."

Disappointed "oh" response and then, "I was just asking because, like, you know, I really like our conversations." [He sounds like someone mocking a California surfer accent.] "They really stick with me." As he said this last part, he sort of tapped his chest where the heart is with his fingers.

My stalkers can't just be scary. No. They have to cheesy too.

The long awaited answer to 'Which way is up?'

It's about TIME!

I was just complaining about this problem this past weekend. In the best of situations, I am bad with direction, but coming out the subway, I am ALWAYS turned around. I wish they would put these things at every stop!

If you've ever struggled to figure out which direction you're facing when you step out of a subway station (and there are no landmarks or sun to guide you), you won't have those problems at four subway stations in Midtown anymore. That's because the Department of Transportation and the Grand Central Partnership are placing temporary directional compass decals outside them.

DOT Commissioner Janette Sadik-Khan explained, "Not a single person, native New Yorker or visitor, can truthfully claim that they have not, at least once, been confused as to which direction to walk when emerging from a subway station." The decals, funded by the GCP, were suggested by a resident. Here are the locations:

150 East 42nd Street (south side of East 42nd St between Lexington Ave and Third Ave) - Entrance to 42nd Street/Grand Central station

The Grand Hyatt New York, 109 East 42nd Street (west side of Lexington Ave between East 42nd St and East 43rd St) - Entrance to 42nd Street/Grand Central station

570 Lexington Avenue (south side of East 51st St between Lexington Ave and Park Ave) - Entrance to 51st Street/Lexington Avenue station

509 Madison Avenue (south side of East 53rd St between Madison Ave and Park Ave) - Entrance to Fifth Avenue/53rd Street station

The View from The Top Racket

For once I had Saturday off and so I went into the City to watch the LSU-Kentucky game at our alumni bar Tutle Bay Grill & Lounge. This was a mistake, because every time I go there, we lose the game. So, sorry everyone, that was my fault. It was also a mistake because a Miller Lite bottle there costs $5.40.

But this is not an entry about LSU football, instead, I'm here to talk to you about a different sort of rip off, The Empire State Building. I dragged a friend of my from Queens, who was born and raised in Long Island and has never lived anywhere but in a three hour radius of NYC (and only in NY state), to the bar. She was amazed by the school spirit.

She, in turn, dragged me to the Empire State Building because as a New Yorker, she had never been. (She's also never been to the Statue of Liberty, the U.N., etc.) I thought it would be a good idea, because though I have been, I've never been at night. It was a chilly on the 86th floor in October. It was also pretty to see the city at night with no haze, no smog, all lit up. Unfortunately it was also $18! I couldn't believe it! My guide, which was written in 2006, has the price at $13. So in a year it has gone up $5. And it will just keep going up because people continue to line the walk for the view.

Now NBC has gotten into the act and you can pay to go to the top of 30 Rockefeller Plaza. They are late to the game, but what with the popularity of the show by the same name (actually shot at a building in Queens, which they renovated to look like 30 Rock), they too could probably get $18 a head. It's now cheaper to go to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island (and you have to take a boat to get there!) than it is to go to the top of a building, look around for five minutes and then leave.

To spare you the $18, the view follows:

The Hard Times of a Stalker

So as I type, Stalker #2 (Apartment Worker Stalker), is painting lines in the parking lot just outside my window. I know because I was just forced to have yet another stilted conversations with him as I encountered him when I returned from walking the dog. And I had just been thinking how nice it was that I managed the walk without running into him.

So he starts with the weather, moves to "When my boss asked me to come down here to do this, I said 'Sure. I'm good at doing lines.' It's a good thing he didn't catch my meaning." And he finishes with talk of the Colorado Rockies and how well they're playing. (He used to live in Colorado. He told me this during the last conversation...you remember, the one in which he played air guitar.)

Seriously where do these people come from?

I am glad for one thing, though. I've been griping about that parking lot needing lines drawn because it's circular and no one knows how to park out there. A LOT of wasted space! I just wish one of the other guys were out there doing it.

Reviews. Catching up

Am I behind! I just realized that I haven't mentioned what I've been viewing in quite a while. I mean there's a reason I haven't updated you on what I've been reading...I haven't. At least not in English. Spanish is consuming my life and you'll see that in the movies I've been watching as well.

I did, however, finish "Marley and Me." It is sappy. Easy to read. Not the greatest writing in the world. And yet, at the end, I was crying like a baby. Anyone who has ever loved a pet will understand and thus it is obvious why this book did so well.

Movie-wise I've done better. But only because on my current Netflix plan I get only two movies a month and I feel like I HAVE to watch them or else I don't get my $6 worth. So since The Candidate, I've watched the following films (with mini reviews attached):

The City of No Limits. My rating: See this movie. In Spanish and French with English subtitles, this flick is a great film noire featuring the incredible Spanish actor Fernando Fernan Gomez. Really. He's an amazing actor and he should bet getting as much acclaim as any of those white men with English accents people are going on about, but because he makes Spanish language films, he does not. The Netflix plot synopsis: This haunting drama set in Paris revolves around Max, a former titan of Spanish industry who's become terminally ill. As his family members gather around him, the delusional Max talks incessantly about a plot against Rancel, apparently an old acquaintance of his. When Max becomes increasingly earnest in his ranting, his son Victor decides to take him seriously and investigate his story.

300. My review: Rent if you like this genre. Based on the comic book, it is gory and full of testosterone. I liked it. But then again, I like comic books. The Netflix plot synopsis: About the storied Battle of Thermopylae, a conflict that pitted the ancient Greeks against the Persians in 480 B.C.

Hot Fuzz. My review: Stop everything to see this. Look, I liked Shuan of the Dead OK. I wasn't all crazy for it like my friends. But this move, by the same guys, is hilarious. I found something painfully familiar in the desire to be village of the year. It reminded me of where I work, somehow. Netflix plot synopsis: A top London cop is ready to die of boredom when his superiors transfer him to a sleepy English village to work alongside a blundering but well-meaning young constable. Craving some real action, the big-city bobby may just get his wish when the town begins to stir with a series of grisly "accidents." Is foul play afoot in this seemingly idyllic hamlet?

Mala Uva. My review: If you want something funny with a cheesy, unlikely, sorta happy ending, this is for you. The name of the film in Spanish means "bad grapes", but they called the English release "The Hit Man." I like Bad Grapes better. But either way, it's about a retired hit man who has a vineyard and a daughter about to marry when his crop is damaged beyond repair after grafting French vines with his Spanish ones (a nice dig at the French by the filmmakers). Anyway, he comes out of retirement and wacky adventure ensues. I won't give you the Netflix plot synopsis because it's not quite right.

Next up is The Queen with Helen Mirren and I'm still reading the Che biography.

FINALLY!!!

A good use for DNA testing! Finding out who your baby's daddy is and freeing men wrongly imprisoned 20 years ago for a crime they didn't commit is all nice and good, but this...THIS is what DNA was truly meant for. Roland won't have to wonder about his lineage any more!

Tests help mutt owners find identity
By NATE JENKINS, Associated Press Writer

Rascal's mom looked like Lassie. And his dad? Well, that's a good question. Rascal's ears make it clear that he was the product of something besides a collie, but his owners couldn't say exactly what. So Kathie Svoboda of Lincoln dabbed a swab in her pet's mouth, mailed it to a lab and, a few weeks later, unlocked the mutt's canine heritage.

Collie and cocker spaniel, as suspected, along with a twist — Shetland sheepdog.

The growing availability, and declining cost, of high-tech DNA tests are giving dog owners long baffled over the makeup of their mutts something to do besides shrug and speculate.

The tests, which cost as little as $65, are the result of several years of work by scientists who gathered a large pool of DNA samples from thousands of dogs to create a sort of genetic roadmap of breeds.

For years, owners have been able to get dogs tested to prove they are the offspring of parents that breeders said they were. In the new testing, DNA markers that help tell breeds apart are checked against the thousands of DNA samples to find out Fido's ancestry.

A new test unveiled late last month by Virginia-based Mars Veterinary uses DNA from blood samples taken by veterinarians and sent to a lab in Lincoln. Within four to six weeks the genetic puzzle is solved for the dogs' owners.

The method can test for 134 of the 157 dog breeds recognized by the American Kennel Club. The company plans to have data for all the breeds by the end of this year, said Paul Jones, a scientist in England who led the method's development.

The test Svoboda used covers 38 breeds and doesn't require a trip to the vet. It has been on the market since early this year, and its producer, Beltsville, Md.-based MetaMorphix, hopes to test for 115 breeds by year's end.

"People spend hundreds of dollars a month on accessories for their dogs," said Brad Mitchell of MMI Genomics, a subsidiary of MetaMorphix. "We kept saying, `This is going to be big, this is going to be big.'"

Mars Veterinary officials say 86 percent of mutt owners don't know which breeds are in their dogs' backgrounds and that consumer surveys they conducted show 60 percent of mutt owners would like to know.

The cost of a cheek-swab test is $65; the cost of the blood test is up to vets but could range between $100 and $200.

There are limitations. Because DNA gets more muddied with each generation, great-grandparents are the oldest relatives that can be mixed breeds themselves in order to secure a reliable answer for the mixed breed in question.

Not everybody is convinced the mutt DNA business will take off.

"I think most people interested in a mixed-breed dog wouldn't want to pay the price" for the tests, said Richard Oberst, a veterinarian and professor at Kansas State University.

Svoboda said she got Rascal tested only because her daughter was curious.

"We thought it was silly," she said.

Mallo-yummie!

I know New York is all known for its cuisine, so it probably speaks to my lameness that the newest food I have discovered comes, not from some old time deli or swank New York cafe or a world-known pizza institution. No, the food I present to you today is made by Nabisco. I give you Mallomars cookies.
I had never even heard of these cookies until someone brought them to work one day. I was all like, "What are Mallomars?" And you'd think I'd insulted the Pope, or something. They were all, "You've never heard of MALLOMARS?!"

Then I bought a box. (They're like Smores, really - a Graham cracker cookie and marshmallow covered in dark chocolate. I'm thinking about putting one in the microwave and seeing if I can make it even more Smore-like.)

According to Wikipedia, the Mallomar is produced seasonally by the cookie company. So that might explain my recent introduction to them. And the fact that since I had that first Mallomar, I've noticed that the grocery stores have a huge display of them at the front when you walk in. It also explains why they're about $5 for a box. More expensive than Girl Scout cookies.

From the box I learned that the Mallomar was created by Nabisco in 1913 (same year as the Moonpie, Wikipedia says) and first sold to a grocer in West Hoboken, NJ. I also learned that more than 70 percent of all Mallomar sales are "generated in the shadow of the Big Apple." We are also "the most loyal Mallomars fans."

Well, they just got one more fan.

Tale of Two Stalkers

It’s been a great week for my stalkers. Last night the original stalker/downstairs neighbor got wasted and sat under my bedroom window serenading me with his slurred dialogue with his dog who was outside and some guy named Frank who was on the phone and, apparently, is getting married. I also got a little verbal abuse when it became obvious he was parked there for the night and there was no getting around him when I needed to take my dog out.

Meanwhile, stalker no. 2/workman stalker stopped me yesterday as I was walking the dog and relayed to me his weekend adventures which involved “getting ripped” at a bar (his friends were buying him “all kinds of shots” and he went out back of the club and “smoked a little herb”). At the bar, he saw some 12 year old guitar phenomenon who was “wailing on some Hendrix, Zeplin” etc. And he illustrated by playing a little air guitar for me.

Then he asked about my weekend. I responded with the standard, “I didn’t do much.” I swear, it was like watching a train wreck…or a bad sitcom, in which they mock bad 80s sitcoms.

And The Envelope Goes To...

I just saw an ad for some movie. I can't remember what the movie is, but it was billing itself as "The First Oscar-Worthy Film of the Fall."

THE FALL?!

The fall just started last week. ANY film can be the first Oscar-worthy film of the fall when it's the first one out!

I mean, are they serious?

Bucky in the Burbs

So remember all those weeks ago when I wrote about the column I had to submit some sample pieces for and everyone gushed about what a great "voice" I had and how much they loved my columns, etc., etc. And then nothing.

Well that was until now. Yesterday I had an e-mail from the page's editor and she said she had gotten all the levels of approval she needed and everyone was on board with having me writing the column, except my immediate supervisor who would really rather just have me do more employee reviews, I think. (I also, apparently, write amazing employee reviews and so of course the reward for good work is to load me up with more work. So I'll probably have even more of those to do, which is just ridiculous. I feel like such a fraud writing those reviews. I have no idea what I'm doing. And yet, that is exactly what they want, somehow.) But clearly, I have digressed.

So today I had my photo taken for the column. I didn't get much sleep last night due to a totally unrelated reason, but as I was dragging my tired self into the office today I had vision of that Sex and The City where Carrie gets asked to be the covergirl for New York Magazine's 40 and Fabulous or whatever the hell the issue was called, but it wound up being Whatever and Fabulous? and this crappy picture of her without making, dark circles under eyes with a coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other. THAT's what I envision my photo will turn out to be. Though, luckily I convinced the one photographer I get along with really well to take my photo. So I think he'll do right by me.

Anyway, my first column runs October 6. I'll be sending you all the links. I have to keep my page views up. Now all I have to do is decide which column should be my first and tweak it. Probably most of what you read in the future columns you'll first read a version of here, but there's a chance I might throw in some original material too. After all, I want to keep you, loyal readers, on the edge of your keyboard with excitement and anticipation.

Tears of a Mime...

PARIS (AP) — Marcel Marceau, the master of mime who transformed silence into poetry with lithe gestures and pliant facial expressions that spoke to generations of young and old, has died. He was 84.

Did anyone know he was still alive?

The Tabloids Speak For All of Us

Uhm, except everyone I actually know.

Second Stalker: Update

Today, as usual, I was walking the dog when my second stalker - the guy who works for the complex and whose sole job, it seems, is to park his little golf cart somewhere along my dog walking route and then lie in wait while pretending to pick up trash - asks, "Hey, so I wanted to ask, are you single, or..."

I tried to not to sigh. I think I was successful. I quickly answered,"I have a boyfriend." And so instead of saying "OK" or some other typically quick response to such an answer and driving off, Stalker2 says, "I was just wondering, because I've been trying to meet someone and I live talking to you." (Mind you our conversations - are almost entirely one-sided and almost always involved the weather. I'm not sure what kind of conversation he's used to, but it strikes as very bad if what I've just described is enjoyable conversation.) Then he finishes with, "Well let me know if you become single." And he drives off.

Yes, Stalker2, you'll be at the top of the list when I dump my imaginary boyfriend.

This apartment complex is starting to scare me with it's stalkers-per-me ratio.

Brooklyn: Part the first

Though really I haven't lived in New York long enough to make comments like the following, I'm going to anyway.

I'm a little bit embarrassed to admit this, but I thing I have a little crush on Brooklyn Heights. I don't know the exact latitudes and longitudes of this particular neighborhood, but it begins, I believe, in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge and heads south to some unknown (to me) point.


I spent the day there today, wandering it's streets, watching kids play in its parks, sitting on its waterfront promenade — which right now isn't all that pretty due to some unsightly piers operated by Port Authority, but I understand that those soon will be demolished and a meandering waterfront park will be put up in its place — window shopping.


We ate brunch at a restaurant called Heights Cafe on Montague Street.

I had a spinach and feta tart that was heavy on the spinach, light on the feta and seemed more quiche-ish than tart-ly to me. My dining companion, who was sporting a hangover, had a cheeseburger and reported it was perfect. So meat beats tarts once again.

I've been here before and I always find it too cute for words. Today we passed a dad and son holding a sidewalk sell. The dad had a dad-sized table in front of him featuring such items as paperback novels and pint glass. The son had a kiddie-sized table in front of him featuring such items as plastic armor and stuffed dinosaurs. Seriously it looked like a sidewalk scene from a movie. It was too perfect.

In addition to being too cute for words, I'm sure it's also too expensive for words to set up a home there, but it's nice to wander it's streets, hang out in its dog parks and daydream.

Danger. Stalker Alert Level: Orange-Red

So my mom befriended my not-as-stalkerish-as-before, downstairs neighbor while my parents were here. (They left at like 2 a.m. this morning, determined to drive straight through, back home. Crazy people!)

Anyway, while I was off working the last two days, she would take the dog outside where he would play with the other dogs. My mom will talk to a wall, as will my downstairs neighbor. So they struck up a conversation and the next thing I know my mom is promising to send a package of cookies back with me for him when I go home over Christmas.

Traitor! She's supposed to helping discourage the stalker-y behavior. You just KNOW this is going to take a lot of damage control to fix!

A mini break

My parents are visiting this means there will be a lack of posts as I try not to kill my mom who keeps insisting I eat more and study more. I'm taking a quick break right now while they've been distracted by Gunsmoke on the television to check my e-mail, pay bills, etc.

They leave this weekend, so hopefully, soon I'll be back to providing valuable insight into New York living. I know, I know. It's hard to live without, but I'm sure you will survive.

In the meantime I'll leave you with this little tidbit I learned from my Spanish book this week. There are more Puerto Ricans living in New York City than live in San Juan.

Sharks Galore

Following up on the original shark stories, The New York Daily News had made mention of a second shark sighting her in NY.

The summer of '07 came to an end on Coney Island yesterday with an only-in-New York fish story: meet the city lifeguard who saved - a shark.

Tender-hearted muscleman Marius Mironescu rescued a 2-foot sand shark from a mob of panicked swimmers, grabbing the wriggling fish in his arms and - in a neat reversal of the usual scenario - swimming out to sea with the stunned animal.

"There must have been 75 to 100 people circled around the shark in the water and they were bugging out," said Mironescu, 39, of Brooklyn.

"They were holding on to it and some people were actually hitting him, smacking his face. Well, I wasn't going to let them hurt the poor thing," he said.

He carried the shark - a baby, he reckons, and harmless to humans - to a less populated area and started backstroking out to sea, dragging the shark with one hand.

"He was making believe like he's dead, then he wiggled his whole body and tried to bite me. He didn't get it," Mironescu said.

A lifeguard since 1985, Mironescu has never dealt with a shark before.

After a relatively uneventful summer, the weekend was packed with sharks. A small one was seen at South Beach in Staten Island on Sunday, following the 5-foot thresher shark that startled swimmers at Rockaway Beach on Saturday before its lifeless body washed ashore the next day.

"We had a little bit of a punctuation mark at the end of summer with 'Jaws' junior showing up and frightening people," said Adrian Benepe, the city parks commissioner.

In all, about 16 million people visited New York City's beaches this season, and another 1.4 million splashed in its 52 outdoor pools.

At Coney Island, Joana Vasquez, 12, had mixed feelings about the end of summer.

"I'm happy to be starting school because I get to see my friends," she said. "I'm not happy because I don't get to go to the beach anymore."



And because that wasn't enough, The New York Post had yet another shark on record:

September 4, 2007 -- The "Jaws" drama in the Rockaways over the weekend nearly had a terrifying prequel - as a maneating mako shark was caught just a mile off the shore.

Two veteran fisherman reeled in the 200-pound predator after a nearly one-hour fight near the Rockaway reef.

"It was one tremendous, 51/2-foot shark," said John Doyle Sr., 62, who tied it to the side of the boat with pal Dennis Mannarino, 56.

"We fought this fish back and forth. It was a great fight."

Mannarino added, "He was nasty. He opened his mouth. That's when we really got nervous. He had about 300 teeth - fuhgeddaboutit!"

As news of Wednesday's mako catch spread, Rockaway lifeguards said they were told to keep an eye out in case any of its cousins made it closer to shore.

The Parks Department did not return a call for comment.

Meanwhile yesterday, a 14-inch sand shark was reeled in on Coney Island.

"Everybody got out when he caught that," said witness Smith Yanez.

New York Aquarium shark expert Hans Walters said he's not surprised that sharks are coming to coastal waters, but admitted that the ferocious mako is rare for this area.

"It is a little unusual to me that somebody caught a mako shark that close to shore," he said.

But Walters noted that while "those teeth could do a lot of damage," they are more likely to "bite people when they haul them into their boats."

A day after Doyle's catch, another pair of fishermen a mile from the beach reeled in a thresher shark similar in size to the one that gave beachgoers a scare when it washed ashore Saturday on Rockaway Beach. Saturday's shark returned to the beach the next day and died.

City swimmers shrugged off any dangers the thresher sharks might pose to them ever since news of the beached fish broke, but their opinions changed yesterday when they were told a mako was part of the mix.

"A mako shark? That's scary," said Maria Valez, who had been swimming with her two children, 8 and 11. "I'm going to start taking my kids to a pool."

Petra Petrano, 24, added, "I'm so glad summer's over. I don't want to swim with sharks."

Bad, Ad Man! Bad! No commission for you!

Courtsey of AP:

A member of a Riverside newspaper’s advertising staff was arrested in connection with a garage sale advertisement placed in its classified pages promising that proceeds would go to a “memorial fund” for District Attorney Rod Pacheco. The man, Chandler W. Cardwell, 32, was booked Saturday on suspicion of making terrorist threats and possession of a concealed firearm. Mr. Cardwell was a member of the East Side Riva street gang, against which Mr. Pacheco had recently announced a crackdown, said Chief Russ Leach of the Riverside police. Mr. Cardwell was arrested after the authorities carried out search warrants at the newspaper, The Press-Enterprise, and discovered that his cellphone had been used to order the advertisement, the authorities said.

Last Day of Summer

In New York, everyone (EVERYONE) considers Labor Day as the last day of summer. The close the swimming pools, kids go back to school, everyone goes back to work from their summer vacations come the Tuesday after Labor Day.

It's strange to me to witness this because in the South, especially the Deep South where I grew up, summer stretches to October...long past the official start of fall and return to school. And it's not unheard of for summer weather to continue straight through Halloween. How many of us haven't sweated up a Halloween costume as a child. (I've noticed as I've gotten older that the adult costumes seem to be growing smaller, so that, unless you're an executioner, your freezing your fanny off at parties. Actually, now that I think of it, I'm SURE there's a "sexy executioner" costume out there. So you probably freeze no matter what you wear.)

As the end of summer, Labor Day is a huge day to blow out your end of summer outdoors. About a million people were at the apartment complex pool, cooking out at the grills or just at various festivals and other outdoor events. I spent the day cleaning and waiting. I was supposed to go to a riverfront festival about three miles away from my home but by the time my "date" showed up, the fireworks that ended the last day of the festival had already started. I did get in a little drinking on the stoop with my neighbors. So I guess it wasn't all that bad. Plus my apartment is super clean, right now.

Summer at Shea

Last weekend I spent much of my time at Shea Stadium watching the Mets first beat the Dodgers and then suffer an embarrassing loss to the same team. It's one of the aspects of baseball that I find fascinating - that the same teams can play three/four nights in a row and it's like watching totally different teams play...I mean, in a way, they ARE different teams because different players are cycled in, but still. That you can totally dominate a team one day and the very next lose spectacularly. That doesn't happen in any other sport.

Anyway, I've seen the Mets play before, but this is my first time at Shea, which soon will be demolished and the team will move next door to Citi Field. It's a corporate sponsorship (Citi Bank), but people seem not as ticked off at it as they could be because they can convince themselves that Citi seems to, sort of, kinda make reference to NYC.

More photos from my camera phone follow. Warning, not the best quality.

Sharks in NY? Who knew?

A Rockaways beach (in Queens) was closed Saturday afternoon after a shark washed up on the shore.

Park officials say a shark washed up on the shore this morning near Beach 109th Street.

Some beach-goers approached the creature and pushed it back into the water.

As a result, the Parks Department has closed the beach and the surrounding bay.

For more check out The New York Daily News story.

For Sale: 1 Journalist. (Free to a good home)

So I found this posting on Gawker today. It made me laugh...but only to keep from crying for how true it is.

How's The Journalism Job Market?

We like to take stock of the journalism job market through the most obvious raw data: Job listings! This week, the Chicago bureau of the New York Times posted an ad for a reporter/office clerk/stringer. You should have: a minimum of a "few years" experience at a newspaper, and should be able to order office supplies while reporting other people's stories—and you should know that the "right applicant will care more about getting good stories and learning the craft than about the paycheck." So we're going with: The job market unrelentingly sucks.

Chicago stringer - The New York Times Posted by: [REDACTED] Wed Aug 29, 2007 3:22 pm (PST) The Chicago Bureau of The New York Times has an opening for a fulltime reporting assistant/stringer. We seek an unflappable, tested, hungry reporter to handle a variety of support duties in our Midwest bureau. We require a poised juggler of tasks -- deadline reporting and writing of hard news, research and legwork for our national correspondents' stories, tracking news trends and developments every day in 11 states, paying bills and ordering supplies, and far more. At minimum, applicants should have a few years of experience at a newspaper. The right applicant will care more about getting good stories and learning the craft than about the paycheck. Please send a cover letter, resume and clips to: [REDACTED] or Monica Davey; The New York Times; Chicago Bureau Chief; 111 E. Wacker Dr.; Suite 2912; Chicago IL 60601. No phone calls please.

How much you wanna bet their office is drowning in applicants?

Re-Stalkered

So just as I've managed to get rid of one stalker, I've acquired another.

I haven't seen the downstairs neighbors in WEEKS and it has been blissfully wonderful. Now, it's like he's avoiding me. Yeah! He finally got the hint.

Since there was an opening for stalker in my life, though, someone else has stepped up to the plate and unfortunately he works here, which I suppose means in theory he has access to my apartment. I can't even remember his name.

This apartment complex is large and spreads over a lot of space. There aren't a lot of units per building but there are a lot of buildings. So they have a pretty big staff that keeps the place up. For the most part the people who work here are very friendly. They wave and say hello whenever I'm walking the dog. I tend to see the same couple of guys every day.

Then one day a few weeks ago this one guy was driving by on the supped up golf carts they use to get around and he stops as Roland is peeing and makes small talk about the weather. I don't think anything of it. Till the next he stops again and asks the dog's name and continues small talk. Whenever I see him thereafter, the same. He even shouted to me out of second floor window.

So today I see him over where all workers take their break. Everyone waves as I walk by. I wave back, say hello, etc. Keep going. The next thing I know, he's driving up beside me and stops. He starts with, "We've gotten a bit of a break with the weather, huh?" And then starts telling me about how he has a couple tickets to go see Jethro Tull up near Albany and then asks me if I'm from around here. I say no, but I don't offer up anything else. He doesn't seem put off by this, he seems nervous. Then he's says, "Well have a nice weekend." And drives off.

I think this guy is going to be even harder to avoid. Sigh. You know, if I had to have a stalker, it could have at least been one of the cute workers. At least then he wouldn't be creepy AND unpleasant on the eyes.

To Kill An Arts Director

The Big Read book for the city (and I guess the universe) this year is To Kill A Mockingbird. Yesterday, the arts reporter who was working on the story was interviewing the director of the arts council, which is coordinating the local Big Read. And lo and behold, he admits he has never read To Kill A Mockingbird. Though, he quickly added, he's read "parts" of it. The newsroom went wild.

"Didn't he go to 9th grade?"

"By parts of it, does he mean Cliffnotes?"

"Has he, perhaps, also read parts of Huckleberry Finn and 1984?"

You really can't make up stuff like this.

Not-so-funny spoofing

Today the weirdest thing happened to me.

I got accused of calling someone whose phone number or last name I do not know. (It's a long story.) It's been bothering me all day. I looked at my statement online (I only have a cell phone and it lists every call I make): nothing. So I'm wracking (also, while we're having silly little asides, is that the right wracking? doesn't anyone know?) my brain all day trying to figure out how my name and number wound up on this person's Caller ID.

I come home and Google "Caller ID". I thought, "I'm going to get a thousand ads for the service." I paused, tried to thing of what to add that might give me some insight into my problem and NOT the ads. Didn't come up with anything so I pushed search.

The first thing that came up was a link to this Wikipedia article:

Caller ID spoofing is the practice of causing the telephone network to display a number on the recipient's caller ID display which is not that of the actual originating station; the term is commonly used to describe situations in which the motivation is considered nefarious by the speaker. Just as e-mail spoofing can make it appear that a message came from any e-mail address the sender chooses, caller ID spoofing can make a call appear to have come from any phone number the caller wishes. Because people are prone to assume a call is coming from the number (and hence, the associated person, or persons), this can call the service's value into question.


Has anyone even heard of this? I'm so behind the times. Apparently there's legislation that's passed some Senate committee this year to make it illegal. And I didn't even know it existed. You KNOW if Congress is taking up the issue, it's like so 20 years ago.

The thing is, I can't think of anyone who would spoof my phone number. Do I have any enemies? I don't think so. Now I feel all paranoid. Like I need to move out my apartment and into a bunker and start printing newsletters about alien conspiracies.

Any similar stories? Thoughts? Government conspiracy theories.

Fun fact o' the week

A sperm can survive for up to a week inside the female.

Thank you WebMD for teaching me that, in fact, I do NOT know everything there is to know about sex.

Reports from the front line

As some of you perhaps don't follow the happenings of our dead king as much as I do, you may not have realized that Thursday was the 30th anniversary of Elvis' death. This meant much hoopla...well, everywhere there are Elvis fans, I guess. But nowhere more so than in Memphis where Death Week is celebrated every year, but the major milestones are even crazier, as you can imagine.

Anyway, today I got this e-mail from the photo assignment editor of the Commercial Appeal. I wanted to share. The subject line: Elvis has not left the building

Well you missed another anniversary of The King's death here in
Memphis.
It was particularly freaky this year.
My grossest Elvis fan sighting was Wednesday (death day) in the lobby
of the Peabody Hotel.
He was a man about 65 years old with a huge belly, wearing a black
fish-net tank top, a huge crop of hair on his chest, a huge crop of hair on
his back protruding thru the tank top, wearing black shorts, black
loafers and black socks. Of course he was also adorned with the
mutton-chop sideburns and shades, and one of those little Elvis boat captian
hats. Or I guess it could have been a motorcycle cap.
Naturally he was lugging two shopping bags full of his Elvis crap
around with him.
He was standing in the traffic jam in the lobby outside Lansky's (you
know where the King used to shop for all his clothes).
Tourist were jammed up outside the store shooting video of the window
displays.
And I thought I didn't have a life.

It wasn't two minutes later that I almost bumped into a little midget
Elvis as I was leaving the hotel.
At least he was dressed like he had some dignity. All three and a half
feet of him.

Just thought you'd enjoy the vision as much as I did.
Now you write back ya hear.

MM

What I'm reading

Reading:
Che Guevara: A Revolutionary Life by Jon Lee Anderson
Marley & Me by John Grogan
Getting Away With It by S. Soderbergh

Bought:
Bruno's Dream by Iris Murdoch ($2.50 used)
Banana Diplomacy by Roy Gutman ($1 used + $5 shipping)
Carter Beats the Devil by Glen David Gold ($7.50 used hardback)

Read:
Carter Beats the Devil by Glen David Gold

We can all see where this going...

I am not overly fond of magicians. They're fine. I have nothing against them. They don't creep me out like clowns. I've just never been wowed by seeing the Statue of Liberty disappear or watching some dude escape from a buried glass box filled with water and sharks or whatever. I rather grudgingly watched The Illusionist. It pretty much furthered my previous opinion of magicians and also of Jessica Biel's acting ability.

So it was with something less than enthusiasm that I agreed to read Carter Beats the Devil when it was handed to me by Deadman as a MUST read. I set it aside and it has mocked me since April. I finally decided I had to read it so I could send it back.

Well I have to tell you, I just finished it the other day and I LOVED it. Toward the end, though I had guessed most of the ending, I still couldn't put it down. I stayed up one night till 4 a.m. getting to the story's climax. I bought a copy of the book because I liked it so much and I have someone I plan on forcing it on.

After finishing it Wednesday night I was surprised to find out that Charles Carter, the main character, was a real person that the author based his fiction on. This made me realized, in turn, that I knew very little about Warren G. Harding. And THAT made me depressed at once again how little I know about everything. I have resisted the urge to go and immediately buy a book on Harding. But I plan to make a visit to a certain used book store in the City when my parents are visiting in September. Don't be surprised if the next installment of my book review lists some biographies.

In fact this is why I am now reading the Che book, because I realized after a year of pretending to know stuff about Che that, of course, I knew nothing about him other than he had something to do with Cuban revolution, my dad and others like him hate him and The Motorcycle Diaries. I'm a little disappointed because I had hoped for at least a semi-unbiased account of his life, but the author of this book did the weirdest thing by putting his acknowledgments at the front of the book, in which he gushes about Che and Cuba, etc. I'm only a few pages in, but it's already colored my judgment of everything he writes.

And in case your interested, I'm reading Marley & Me because 1) I love dogs and 2) the Che book is not at all transportable. I needed something that I could take "to go" and you need a pushcart to move that Che book.

My namesake

For the few who don't know, this blog is not, in fact, named after the former Yankees player from Savannah, but after the comic strip cat who is named after the former Yankees player from Savannah. "Get Fuzzy" and I had a rough start in that I did not care for the executive editor that tore up our comics strips page and got rid of one of my favorite comics, "Mixed Media" in order to get his favorites in. He introduced "Get Fuzzy" in the spot where "Mixed Media" was previously and I kept finding myself reading it out of habit due to its location. Well, long story short, I fell in love with that crazy cat and his roommates, Satchel the dog and Rob the human.

To make an even longer story not all that much shorter, the purpose of this entry is that I felt most of you reading would love the series that ran last week, which I am totally illegally posting (in part) below in case you missed it.







For more, check out Get Fuzzy site at Comics.com

And winner of gaudiest apartment living room is...

I'm sure there are better candidates for that title out there, but I came across this place yesterday and it cracked me up. This is the living room of the "apartment" in a two-family home. (It's like a duplex only split bottom and top. Usually the owner lives in the bottom part with garage and basement fun room and the smaller upstairs is rented as an apartment. It's the only way people can afford houses up here.) That fact made it even funnier to me because someone did up their rental apartment like it was a Roman palace.