Football. God help us.

I don't want to hate the Giants. Really, I don't. But they have two things working against them for me right now:

1) After spending so much time bad mouthing Eli Manning when he was quarter back for Ole Miss, playing against LSU (sorry Ole Miss fans), I cannot bring myself now to defend him or cheer him on or cheer for his team. Last week with the Giants v. Packers, at least I had the excuse of cheering for a different Mississippi quarterback. One that played for Southern Miss and thus was not in the SEC at all. But this week I have nothing to hide behind. When the New York (but really New Jersey because that's where they play) Giants suit up against the New England Patriots, I'll just have to cheer on New England without any good reason. Well, except for...

2)I work for a newspaper in New York. This means our executive editor lost his mind and decided we should blow out Super Bowl coverage all week long. So our already overtaxed, less than full staff — which is working on both a giant special business and industry section AND all the crazy, overblown coverage of the Super Tuesday presidential primaries the same editor wants — is now having to try to cram in all of these football stories. Most of them don't even know anything about football. And also, we're not exactly THE source for everyone's Giants news. People really aren't buying our paper to read up on the team and I don't think they care if local caterers are doing better business. They might, however, pick us up for pictures of people's dogs dressed in Giants gear.

In fact, the entire staff - lifelong Giants fans, New England fans, non-football fans alike - are cheering AGAINST the Giants because the executive editor has already started talking about how we need to have a "plan" for post-win coverage. "There's the parade. The homecoming. The what this means..." I can hear the rioting already. The staff's rioting that is.

Probably not the best idea to steal from a priest

While it is very sad the bishop's crown was stolen, what I find most interesting in this article is that the bishop is a former marine that served in the Korean War. I don't think you get a lot of those in the Greek Orthodox priesthood.


Texas thief steals bishop's crown

A thief has broken into a car in Texas and stolen a valuable crown and other items belonging to a visiting Greek Orthodox bishop from Colorado.

Metropolitan Isaiah, an ex-US marine who served in the Korean War, was dining with others at a restaurant when the thief smashed his car's window.

The gold and silver crown is believed to be worth up to $10,000 (£5,000).

Also stolen was his Bible and a bag embroidered with his religious title, a gift from the widow of a fellow marine.

Metropolitan Isaiah, who was the only priest at a Vespers service on Saturday night without a head covering, is offering a reward of at least $1,000 for the safe return of the crown stolen in Arlington.

"We parked in a brightly lit place, and with all the lights there, we thought we were fine," he was quoted by the Dallas News as saying.

"We came out at 10 o'clock, and the window was smashed."

The symbolic crown, he said, was the first gift he had received as a bishop, 22 years earlier, and he felt "lost without it".

Other items missing include the bishop's mobile phone and his clerical veil but the loss of the bag seemed to be a particularly hard blow.

"It has my name on it, embroidered Metropolitan Isaiah, so who can use it?" Metropolitan Isaiah asked.

According to his official biography, the ex-marine, whose official title is Metropolitan of Denver, entered a Massachusetts seminary in 1954 and became a bishop in 1986.

Yup. Still cold here.

While the snow may have come and gone down South [temperature check: 60 degrees back home], here it is still bitterly cold. Especially the wind. My face is chapped and I'm barely out in it. Anyone have any good moisturizing tips? Seriously. Because I'm at a loss for what to do.

It's so cold that even the cat has found creative ways to stay warm.

News from Patras

I guess the next step is to get rid of all the gypsies and Albanians? Greeks hate Albanians. They're the new Turks.

Authorities in the city of Patras began demolishing a camp right by the city's port that was home to nearly 4,000 illegal immigrants, mostly Afghan. Illegals would stay in the area and try to board ships bound for Italy or other European destinations.

The Greek Red Cross had given the immigrants a few days warning of the impending demolition of the camp. The question now is, where do they all go?

Authorities said a similar establishment at the port of Igoumenitsa (northwestern Greece) would soon be razed as well.

Not even Memphis-STYLE BBQ

My new old beau and I (he will henceforth be called TomClancy as he is ultra paranoid and would loose it if he found out I was using his real name on the INTERNET WHERE ANYONE COULD SEE IT or something like that, despite the fact that the only people who read this blog are a few, very bored friends and some guy in Indian who stumbled upon it by accident and accidentally set it as his homepage and can't figure out how to unset it!)

So wait, where was I?

Oh right, TomClancy and I went out for BBQ this weekend, as I mention at a local joint called The Piggy Bank. While I knew, in my heart of hearts, this was a bad BAD idea. I did it anyway. People at work had raved about it. It was Zagats rated. We weren't in NYC, so there's plenty of land to have a real smoker on. It could work, right? Wrong. It's not that the barbecue was bad, but it wasn't great and it certainly WASN'T Memphis-style BBQ, as advertised. If anything, I'd say it was more Texas style. It was runny, in that vinegary way that Texas barbecue has. And it was tomato-based, so it tasted like what I consider real BBQ, as opposed to North Carolina barbecue, which is very heavy on the vinegar and yuck and light on the yum and sauce.

I had a pulled pork sandwich. Uninspired. The slaw was pretty good, though. TomClancy had the Carolina-style pulled pork sandwich, which was based on the South Carolina mustard barbecue. It was also very vinegary, though. Though TomClancy is from South Carolina, he hadn't had the mustard-based 'cue before and didn't care for this version of it.

We also ordered a small side of ribs. These were immensely better. Though it was the same lame sauce and there was no dry rub on the meat, it was actually cooked well. Moist and falling off the bone the way good barbecue is supposed to be.

The best thing we had by far were the chicken strips, though. They were an appetizer and nothing to do with barbecue at all, but were deep friend to perfection.

I don't get it, though. They had the meat right - that's the hard part. Anyone can make a decent, thick BBQ sauce. How did they screw that up? Hmm...maybe they need someone to help them in the way of Memphis-style BBQ? Do I smell a job possibility? Or maybe just a reality TV show in the making?

You say park, I say potter's field

I found this little item pretty interesting. They've got Washington Square Park all torn up for a complete restoration or something like that. I've gotta get down there and get some pics that I'll post here. In the meantime, remember the next time you're down there protesting the war or attending a wiener dog convention that you're hanging out on a grave yard:

Mostly intact skeletal remains from at least four people were discovered Wednesday morning by city archaeologists doing soil testing as part of a restoration of Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village, city officials said. The discovery could have significance for scholars studying the history of the early United States; the area of the park was used as a common burial ground, or potter’s field, from 1797 to 1826.

The Parks Department immediately announced that the skeletons would be left in the ground out of respect and that some of the plans for renovating the site would be adjusted so as not to disturb the burial site.

According to Jama Adams, a Parks Department spokeswoman, at least four relatively intact burials were uncovered. At one site, 70 to 80 human bones, possibly belonging to two individuals, were found. At a second site, three to four sets of skeletal remains were found. The archaeological work is being done under supervision from the city’s Landmarks Preservation Commission, which has responsibility for maintaining the historical integrity of the park.

Who needs Frank Lloyd Wright when you got Kate Spade and a boyfriend?

Well, I would update you on my life, but I've been very busy going out on actual dates with the guy I've been seeing, so I just don't have time. Also, I have a column I'm supposed to be writing, but am not. I have to tell you about the decidedly NON-Memphis BBQ Memphis-style BBQ I had today for lunch, but that will have to wait till morning.

Also, because looking at Chicago architecture in a snowstorm wasn't crazy enough, today I went shopping (with the afore mentioned guy) at a outdoor outlet mall in sub-zero weather. It was not just cold, it was damn cold! We went to Woodbury Common in nearby Orange County. I bought a dress, which was about all I could afford. And the afore mentioned guy bought me a warm wool hat. (Did I mention it was cold?) Also, for some reason, we decided to go on this crazy shopping excursion spur of the moment and took no gloves or hats with us. I had a nice warm jacket, but he had a windbreaker without its fleece interior. Needless to say, there was much coffee drinking and popping into stores we had absolutely no interest in.

Anyway, I'm busy thawing out now...I finally have some feeling back in my fingers. Stay tuned for the update on New York BBQ.

Snow, but not in New York

As far as I know, I'm not pregnant. [See my friend's blog.] But apparently hell IS about to freeze over, as Mississippi got snow. See photos from friends and family below:

Don't be alarmed. Those explosions are planned. No. Really.

Public reminded about construction blasts at World Trade Center site
by The Associated Press

Don't be alarmed.

That's the Port Authority's message to the public about construction blasting at the World Trade Center site.

Seven controlled blasts were scheduled throughout the day today.

New Mike the Tiger

This is Mike VI. In case you want to learn more about him:

A GROWING LOVE AFFAIR
LSU's 400-plus pound mascot, Mike VI, is winning the hearts of fans young and old
Saturday, January 05, 2008
By Billy Turner
Staff writer

It was a Wednesday, days before Christmas.

A gray sky sheltered Tiger Stadium, but beyond that enormous building, stacked between the football and basketball homes of LSU Tigers, was the environment that housed the newest of Mike the Tiger, a 15,000-square foot area.

Out beyond the athletic facilities, a warm wind kicked up, and drops of rain began to fall. The sky was ominous to the East, with black clouds forming a marching army.

Still, families came by to see the large feline, staring in past the glass or past the fencing.

Mike VI was oblivious to all that. As the rain drops hit him, on his stomach since he was lyingon his back like a house cat that had escaped to roll in the front yard, he didn't even tense. He didn't care that moisture was gathering. He seemed to care about nothing.

But when a leaf blower cranked up to his left, the howl piercing the air outside his palatial home, he cared. He rolled, and the enormous cat leaped to his feat. He strode to the edge of the cage and peered out. A golf cart rolled by, and that seemed to capture his attention.

It was just another day in the life of a wonderfully playful cat the size of a Volkswagen.

Norma Compton, a grandmother from Wichita, Kan., ignored the impending rain. She walked to the fencing and stared in.

"I'm here to visit my granddaughter," she explained. "We purposefully came to see Mike. He's a tradition. It's just fun to see a beautiful tiger like this. You don't often see them in zoos."

Laura Compton is getting her master's degree in education from LSU and was to graduate just before Christmas. But the afternoon wouldn't be complete, Norma said, without a visit to see the cat.

Minutes later, the Holland family arrived.

Travis Holland is a student at LSU. He was wearing LSU pants as he led his mother, sister and father to the edge of Mike's shelter.

"I'm a student, and my family wanted to see him," Holland said. Sister Jessie, mother Terrie and father Melvin are from Shreveport.

"We live in Shreveport," said Terrie, "and my parents live in New Orleans. We had to come see the Tiger. We love him, we love animals. Travis was telling us he is very young and very big, and he is."

The families were but a few of the almost constant flow of people who have come to see the tiger who replaced Mike V. Mike V died in May of renal failure.

At the time, LSU Athletic Director Skip Bertman said, "Mike V was a noble mascot who was loved by Tiger fans young and old, and he represented all that is proud and dignified about LSU."

Mike VI, who was named Roscoe at the time, arrived in August.

He's been a huge hit.

"He's had a lot more visitors," said Bobbie Grand, public relations officer of the Tiger Athletic Foundation. "Dr. (David) Baker estimated that about 100,000 visitors per year came to see Mike V, and we believe there are more people coming to see Mike VI.

"He is just so friendly and out-going. On a daily basis hundreds come to see him."

LSU has had a live tiger mascot since 1936, and the tales that have grown up around the Tigers are legendary. The original Mike was purchased from the Little Rock Zoo for $750 that year. His name originally was Sheik but was changed to Mike for Mike Chambers, who was the LSU athletic trainer when the first mascot was purchased.

The first Mike was placed in the Baton Rouge Zoo for about a year before a permanent home was constructed. He was at LSU for 20 years before dying of pneumonia.

Through the years, traditions have grown around the tiger, such as the one that says for every growl of Mike elicited before a football game, the Tigers will score a touchdown that night.

The tiger stopped traveling with the team in 1970 when his cage overturned on Airline Highway en route to a game. In the mid-1980s, someone cut the locks on Mike IV's cage and freed him, but he was returned safely. Tulane students kidnapped Mike the Tiger in 1950.

But Mike VI might turn out to be the most popular of all the mascots. When he was released into the facility Sept. 1, he immediately showed his style.

"He played with a big purple ball that was placed in the environment, and he went swimming almost immediately," Grand said. "It was so sad when Mike V died. We were so worried. Were we going to get another one, we wondered. It was what he represented that meant so much to people.

"Turns out this one is just so fantastic," said Grand, who has chronicled the lives of the Tigers through photographs, many of which are in her office in the Pete Maravich Assembly Center where she overlooks Mike VI's habitat.

"Dr. Baker did a fantastic job finding this cat. When they released him into his environment, it was like, 'this is great.'"

Grand said the TAF gets a lot of calls asking what is the best time to see the tiger. She laughed, "We don't really know. He's a tiger. He sleeps whenever he wants to and gets up whenever he wants to. We had an elderly couple call and ask us, and we told them the morning might be best. They said that wouldn't work for them, like we were going to go and tell the tiger. They came in the afternoon.

"I've seen him raise up and put his paws on the glass near where kids are placing their hands. I've seen the kids come by wearing their LSU clothing. He loves his handlers, too. He reacts when he sees them."

Though the Tigers don't travel any longer, Grand said there had been pressure to take Mike VI to New Orleans for the BCS championship game. "I don't think they would let him go riding in that trailer, though."

Other random updates

I got these pretty roses the other night, for no real reason except the boy who gave them to me seems to like me a lot. I thought the were pretty, thus their posting. Also, my cat tried to eat the baby's breath...she's been obsessed with it since she was a wee, little kitten. One of my ex's used to buy her her own baby's breath whenever he bought me flowers. This is obviously a bad thing to do, since she just pukes it back up. It was one think when I had hard wood floors and could just wipe it up. But now I have carpet and have to bust out the Bissell SpotBot to clean it up.

Part 2: I will not be taking a Spanish class this semester. The community college I go to isn't offering any upper level classes this semester. The one I originally signed up for was canceled due to lack of enrollment. Apparently they will offer 301 in the fall. I just hope I can keep my Spanish up between now and then. Also, I didn't really have the money to take classes at a four-year SUNY school. I have to apply, get accepted and then the tuition is much higher. So I'm just waiting the semester and summer sessions out. Plus, I may not even be here in May. My boss told me the other day that he won't be here through the end of the year. He's looking for jobs outside of journalism. When he leaves, I hope to be gone. If not I'm going to have to do his job AND mine and that means working six days a week and many, many more hours than I'm putting in now...most likely without his pay.

I've eaten some more apples, read some additional books and watched a lot of movies. So I have several other updates I need to get to. Doubt I'll get them all up tonight, though.

M.I.A.: Stalker

So it's been almost a month since I've seen my stalker that works here. I've probably just jinxed myself, but I thought you all might be wondering about his whereabouts and what crazy, new stalker thing he's done.

I'm hoping he got fired or transfered to the other apartment complex these people own. Maybe someone complained to management on my behalf...or maybe he was stalking some other people who weren't afraid to go and complain to the front office. Whatever it is, I'm glad for it. It makes walking so much more peaceful and enjoyable!

Ah, New York

From The New York Times.

January 9, 2008
ABOUT NEW YORK
Young and Broke in the City, but Staying Afloat

By JIM DWYER
As hosts of a small gathering the other night to watch a college football game, Brian Markey and his roommate, Owen Cahillane, hustled to get their place ready, which took a startling amount of time, considering that it has only 250 square feet of space. They live on a houseboat in the Bronx, on a finger of water that is formally known as Westchester Creek. It is close to the elbow of the Hutchinson River Parkway and the Cross Bronx Expressway, in a pocket of the city that is in no immediate danger of becoming the new Williamsburg.

Mr. Markey, 25, found the houseboat, the Pee Jay, after seeing an ad for a rental that was only a seven-minute canoe ride to the Whitestone Multiplex.

On Monday evening, to get a signal for their television, he and Mr. Cahillane, 28, turned to the neighboring houseboat, which is vacant because of an unfortunate tilting episode but still has a handsome, and functioning, satellite dish. They ran a cable from the dish through a window into their living room. By pulling as far and as hard as possible, the cable just reached the television set.

“It’s like when they bring the chains out to measure a first down,” Mr. Markey said triumphantly.

The cable cut the room in half, but the guests, arriving with beer and a pot of red beans and rice, simply ducked beneath it. They were friends who had gone to college in New Orleans, and most of them had moved to the city in the past six months. Like their hosts, they, too, are chronically broke and accustomed to physical discomfort. These are New Yorkers in the larval stage.

“The novelty of a party on a houseboat gets people here,” said Mr. Markey, who works as a gardener in a Bronx park. “If we advertised it as a party in a small room a few blocks off the 6 train, I doubt we’d get many.”

Perched on the edge of a sagging sofa, next to a pine twig that had been stuck in a beer bottle — a Christmas tree, houseboat-size — Dominique Ellis, 23, who works in marketing, confessed that she had wanted to compare the houseboat with the basement in Astoria, Queens, that she shares with three unemployed actors.

“I had no idea,” Ms. Ellis said, “that accommodations such as these were just 28 subway stops away.”

After spending a few nights on the boat, Lizzie Ford-Madrid, 24, noticed a mini-rain forest effect. The faintly dank odor becomes less noticeable the more you breathe it. The $800 rent includes propane heat, but it is tricky to adjust. The result, Mr. Cahillane said, is that the top half of the body can be quite warm while everything below the waist is freezing.

“There are some problems with the moisture,” said Mr. Cahillane, who returned last month from a yearlong fellowship with Catholic Relief Services in Latin America and is looking for work. “I dropped the soap in the shower and literally could not see it in the steam to pick it up.”

Ms. Ford-Madrid, who works as a production assistant at Nickelodeon, has sleeping rights to a sofa in an apartment in Borough Park, Brooklyn. “My roommate is a third-year resident at Maimonides, so it’s cheap hospital housing,” she said. “He’s friends with a friend of mine in New Orleans, and he said, ‘Oh yeah, you can stay on my couch.’ ”

She came north during the summer with Samantha McKinney, 24, who now works at an art gallery in Chelsea and lives above a wheelchair store in Williamsburg. “My roommate has a wheelchair she spray-painted gold that she uses at her desk,” Ms. McKinney noted.

In separate police blotter moments, Ms. Ford-Madrid and Ms. Ellis each had a purse stolen in bars. “Some woman came into the bar like a housewife of Orange County — only a 50-year-old hussy,” Ms. Ford-Madrid said, as if such a profile were inherently bad. “She went on a shopping spree at Brooklyn gas stations.”

Things felt secure on the houseboat. Occasionally, someone going for a beer would knock the cable out of the television set, temporarily interrupting Louisiana State’s blowout of No. 1-ranked Ohio State in the Bowl Championship Series title game. Everyone at the party was connected somehow through Loyola University New Orleans. Mr. Markey graduated from there in 2005; Mr. Cahillane grew up with him in Springfield, Mass.

At night, one roommate gets the arthritic sofa, the other, a foam chair that unfolds to bed length. They are not sure how long their residency on Westchester Creek will last, for all its charms. “At low tide, the bluefish will chase the little shiners, and they’ll jump in the air, and the seagulls are waiting to get them,” Mr. Markey said. “The food chain.”

Ms. Ford-Madrid took her spot on the New York food chain in a moment of pure impulse. “Samantha and I worked at the same restaurant, and I turned to her one night and said, ‘Samantha, let’s move to New York,’” she said. “That was it. Just came here on a nickel and a wish.”

Tiger Taters!

Since there's not much I can add to the reams of print - both electronic and paper varieties - that has been written about LSU's victory over ESPN darlings Ohio State, I will instead write about my experience as the school's ambassador to the not-so-frozen-north, particularly my newsroom.

As soon as I stepped off the elevator today my immediate supervisor saw me and said, "Well I didn't expect to see you today. I thought you'd be too hung over from the celebrating." There was much congratulations thrown my way and as I told everyone that stopped by, "Yes. I take full credit for the LSU victory." And there is something to be said here, in that I purposely avoided going to the LSU alumni bar in the city to watch the game - though it would have been nice to celebrate with my fellow alumni - due to the (previously mentioned in another post) run of bad luck I've had with the place. I wanted to do nothing to jinx this game. Instead I opted to watch the game at home with my boy friend (I don't think I can quite put those two words together yet), Abita beer and pizza. Actually we were playing like buffoons until he showed up and then right on cue the game turned in our favor. So now not only do I have to avoid the alumni bar, but I have to haul this guy over to watch the games with me. Ensuring victory for LSU is getting harder and HARDER!

But I digress. Back to work: I came armed with my Zapps LSU Tiger Taters, which I put out for the newsroom to enjoy and wrote an obnoxiously glowy e-mail informing said newsroom of the afore mentioned chips. They were a huge hit and were gone in like 120 seconds. The executive editor kicked off the supervisors meeting today by saying the first order of business was to congratulate me on LSU's victory. And things continued along in this manner for the rest of the day. I heard confessions of people from Ohio who hated Ohio State and were secretly glad for their loss. There was much smack talk about the Big 10. It was nice...like I'd converted the entire newsroom in SEC - and in particular LSU - fans. My favorite story was form the assistant sports editor who went to LSU for something to do with a basketball tournament (I was unclear on whether he was playing or covering) and he was in awe of the acres and acres of sports facilities. He was all "the Mississippi River was right there," as if we aren't all "the Hudson River is RIGHT THERE" ourselves.

So anyway, I'm exhausted by my missionary work up here. Any other LSUers have funny day after stories to share?

Sad Tree. Sad Bucky.

I'm feeling a lot of sympathy for this tree, which is still just as it appears here, off my balcony. Is everyone still on vacation? Does no one goof off at work anymore? Is that one of your New Year's resolutions? "I will not goof off at work anymore, watching YouTube videos and reading blogs? In my free time, when I have it, I will only read the McLaughlin Report Web site." Well, let me tell you, my friends, that is a very BAD resolution. You won't get any smarter like that. You'll just start to realize how dumb you really are. Better to stick with YouTube — and this blog - where you'll feel like a genius.

So, anyway, this tree. I noticed last week. Someone had apparently just decided that it was too much of a hassle to drag it across the parking lot to the dumpster or to take it to be mulched for free at the park. No, much better, just to toss it out the window because, after all, it is nature and the stuff behind our building is also nature. Nature to nature, dust to dust.

I swear I don't know where I live anymore. This place used to be filled with adults. Now it's like I live with a bunch of children. Or, as I've mentioned before, in a frat house.

Sigh. Come back friends, come back. I need some intelligent conversation. Clearly that's not to be had here where I live.

The Apple Cart: Day 7 (Red Delicious)

Hello, old faithful!

I think anyone who's had an apple has had a Red Delicious. It is the generic of apples and available everywhere. It has a dark red peel and a white meat. They are grown everywhere apples are grown. It is a sweet apple, which is crunchy, though closer to the core becomes less so. It has versatile applications, though is probably most popular eaten in its original apple form. It is also very cheap, which is good. At my grocery store you can buy organic and the waxy, shiny version we're all used to seeing. However, strangely, the organic version is one cent cheaper.

Here is the history of this apple as told by Wikipedia, so who knows if it's true:

The Red Delicious was originally called "Hawkeye" by Hiatt, but after taking it to the fruit show in Louisiana it was called simply "Delicious". When the Golden Delicious was discovered in 1914, the name changed again to "Red Delicious".
This variety of apple became increasingly popular until the 1990s, when overproduction began to degrade the quality and when better storage and transportation techniques made other varieties more available. Recently, apple aficionados often consider this apple bland and deride the Red Delicious for its overly sweet, relatively simple flavor compared to other apple varieties.

Apparently the Louisiana referred to isn't the state, but a city in Missouri. I have no idea what or who Hiatt is. I have also discovered that the "yellow" apple that I mentioned in my first apple post is actually the Golden Delicious. We'll have to give that a go soon and review it. We shall see how delicious it is.

Happy New Year!

Welcome to 2008. In New York the year has begun cold and rainy. And I'm at home alone with my dog and cat. So I figure things an only get better from here.

I did go to that party last night, by the way. I did not take anyone with me. (Though when I got there someone asked, "Why didn't you bring Roland?!" The dog is more popular than I am.) I did however go late after everyone was pretty much soused and so no one even noticed.

There was a lot of drinking and fooding and playing of Guitar Hero 3, which is the most insane idea for a video game I've ever seen.

Hope you guys had a good New Year's Eve and it continues into '08!


A million revelers. A ton of confetti. One giant celebration.
by Associated Press

More than a million revelers in Times Square cheered as the giant crystal ball made its 100th drop last night and a ton of confetti rained down on the urban canyon, ushering in the new year.

University of North Carolina junior Reid Medlin, 21, attended the celebration with his friends Rachel Rand, 20, and Jeremy Crouthamel, 20. They were in the city for the first time and planned to stay up all night because they had no hotel.

"I think the best part is being here with friends," Medlin said as confetti floated down on him and people kissed around him. "This was beautiful. It makes you appreciate everything."

Rand said it didn't even matter that they didn't have a place to sleep.

"I'm too happy to go to bed," she exclaimed.

A century ago the Times Square ball tradition began with a 700-pound ball of wood and iron, lit with 100 25-watt incandescent bulbs. This year's event featured an energy-efficient sphere clad in Waterford crystals, with 9,576 light-emitting diodes that generated a kaleidoscope of colors.

Organizers said well over a million people attended the festivities.

They were treated to an entertainment lineup that included Dick Clark and Ryan Seacrest handling the countdown to 2008 and musical performances by Carrie Underwood, Miley Cyrus and other acts. Even New York Yankees slugger Alex Rodriguez showed up, shaking hands and posing for photos as he waited for midnight.

The Times Square Alliance, the business group running the event, handed out thousands of balloons and mittens to the crowd, which waited for hours in chilly winter weather for the main event. The confetti included pieces of paper with the new year's wishes and resolutions of people who submitted them in advance.

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.