England: Part 1, The Christening

So in case you are just joining us, I've recently (i.e. Monday) returned from England.

I was there because my friends, Sarah and James, asked me to be godmother to their daughter, the most adorable baby ever (well...if you called me out on it, you'd learn that I said the exact same thing about my cousin's daughter Penny and my friend Evy's son, Connor. So my definition of "most adorable baby ever" is very fluid) Amelie. A reminder in case you life in a bizarro cyber world that will not allow you to view any of my previous posts:


The christening went well. It was held at the village church. My friends live in a place called Wanborough in the county of Wiltshire, though I don't think they are actually called counties in England. The village has a little store that is also the post office, a park and a village hall and several inns with pubs. And that's about it. However it's only a few minutes from a bigger town that has a grocery store and a McDonald's and such.

Though I'm starting with the christening, it was actually one of the last things I did there. However, it is the primary reason I was there. The christening was pretty short and involved us all denouncing the devil and promising to pray for Amelie, etc. and there was some water and candles involved. Afterward we got little godparent certificates, which prove helpful the next time we're stopped for driving under the influence of juice boxes. Above are my friends with the vicar after the christening.

The reception was held at a nice seafood restaurant called The Crab at Chieveley.It was about 25 minutes from the church and there's not much else near it. Dear, little Amelie clearly knew the do was all for her because after waking up toward the end of the meal she really hammed it up for the cameras.

I have to say that I totally feel in love with this little baby. She and I got on quite nicely. I made her laugh and she chewed on my sunglasses. She was already asleep the night I arrived and when she woke up the next day and saw me for the first time, she acted like it was the most normally thing in the world that someone she had never seen before would be standing there in her pjs. She liked me immediately. I was heartbroken to leave her...covered in chocolate doughnut, which is what she had been eating in the car on the way to the airport. The next time I see her, she'll probably be making complete sentences (not just dada, mummum and cat) and walking. Oh, they grow up so fast!

So more photos below:

Definitely my goddaughter

Now THAT is how you enjoy pizza!

Bucky lag

Oi. I'm back, but still dragging a little. Updates and clever things to be said will appear again soon.

Bucky Across the Pond

Not that you'll even notice, but the blog will be on hiatus for about a week while I'm in England. I am to be a godmother. So while I'm gone I'll leave you with a little photo of godchild to be. A not quite full report to follow upon my return.

Happy Fake Easter

Easter always bothers me — except every four years or so when the stars align and all the Easters fall on the same date. It bothers me because I know what it must feel like not be Christian in a Christian society; and what it feels like is annoying. I'm annoyed at having to explain over and over - sometimes to the same people - thanking you for wishing me a Happy Easter, but no, it's not my Easter. Do I go around wishing random people holidays they don't celebrate? No. I do not. And if I did, they would certainly complain about it. So now it's my turn to complain.

This year the Eastern Orthodox Easter, along with the Passover it always follows, isn't until the end of April. A full month after the Western world celebrates it's Easter.

I'm annoyed by the people I encounter who keep giving me sad looks like, "Oh, poor girl, she has no one to spend the holiday with." And I want to shout at them, "It's NOT MY EASTER! Stop feeling sorry for me." And then I'm annoyed because I feel sad I have no one to spend the day with. Just me and Roland, doing laundry and repotting the cactus and finishing our state taxes (well, my taxes; he's finishing a bone I gave him last week).

I'm annoyed because I have to work tomorrow and I leave on Wednesday for England and I need to do a bunch of stuff and this is my only day off to do them and I can't because all of the stupid stores are closed for Easter. It makes me want to scream, "What about all the people who AREN'T Western Christians?! Huh? There are a lot of Jews here, a goodly number of Hindus and Muslims and Orthodox Christians too! We NEED to shop. Why aren't you open for us?!

I'm also annoyed because it's the end of March and it's still cold outside...but that's a different topic for a different day.

Crazy excuse for bad driving 3012: It wasn't me officer, it was the Oreo

SALISBURY, Conn. (AP) — Police say a man’s excuse for speeding through a small Connecticut town takes the cake — or, at least, the cookie.

A state trooper who stopped the 1993 BMW says its driver, 28-year-old Justin Vonkummer of Millerton, N.Y., blamed the driving problems on an errant Oreo.

Police say Vonkummer told the trooper that an Oreo had just slipped from his fingers as he dunked it in a cup of milk, and that he was trying to fish it out when he lost control of his car.

The alleged incident occurred last fall in Salisbury, but came to light in Bantam Superior Court this week.

That’s when prosecutors learned Vonkummer had been charged with speeding and driving under a suspended license — not driving under the influence, as a clerk had mistakenly noted in the court records.

Vonkummer’s attorney would not comment. The case is pending.

Me gusta mucho Ashley Tisdale

Everyone must go to this site immediately. It is so totally bizarre. I have no words for it.

Party Train

I don't think you really get how truly crowded the 10:51 a.m. St. Patrick's Day train to Grand Central was from this photo, but it gives you a hint. My car was standing room only and people were singing, chanting, banging on the roof of the car. At one point I thought they were going to stop the train and call the police.

At least twice the conductor came over the intercom to ask people to put out their cigarettes. (Might I remind you, you can't even smoke in bars in New York!) One guy had one of those camel packs long-distance runners wear to stay hydrated and he had filled it full of what looked like vodka and was going around giving people shots. He was falling down drunk and it wasn't even noon. Another girl had shot glasses stuck to her suspenders and was giving people shots. EVERYONE had cups or bottles filled with liquor. There were cases of beer.

I swear, it was like someone took the French Quarter at Mardi Gras and crammed it into a train. I had my iPod turned up to full volume and I couldn't hear the music. My boyfriend called and he said, "Is that the train?!" He couldn't believe I wasn't at a bar. He said he'd text message me instead and hung up.

The woman who sat next to me, sighed when she got on. "I took the latest train I could. I have to go to work. I was hoping to avoid most of this." [The parade was at 11 a.m. This train didn't get into Grand Central until about 12:10.]

It was a hilarious ride - way crazier than my New Year's Eve trip two years ago. But, it was also annoying after a while since I wasn't doing any drinking. I had a massive headache by the time we pulled into Grand Central.

My ride home last night

This happened on my train car:

Fight results in stabbing at train station

BEACON – A fight between two groups on a northbound Metro-North train late Monday night resulted in a Newburgh man being stabbed in the side.

Beacon City Police Chief Glenn Scofield said Tuesday that the fight apparently began on the train and spilled over onto the platform when it arrived in Beacon around 11:40 p.m.

The victim, a 22-year-old man who he declined to identify, sustained a minor stab wound and refused medical treatment at the scene, the chief said.

No arrests have been made and the investigation is continuing.

(Bad Luck) O' The Irish

This was my St. Patrick's Day. German and Italian beer and pizza. What is they say — if it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all. That pretty much sums up my life, relationship included.

I have a pretty funny train ride in story, but that's about as Irish as my day got. As soon as I arrived in NYC, I had to wait for my boyfriend to arrive, as always. I sat at Starbucks for about an hour. Then he picks me up and announces that he passed a couple of Irish-pub type places on the way in and they were packed and he's decided we weren't staying in the city. So he takes me to Staten Island. He doesn't ask me, he just takes me there. I had plans with someone later in the evening - a former reporter of mine who now works in the city. The boyfriend was working nights this week and so when he went home to sleep, I was going to hang out with my friend and get in some celebrating time.

Instead we go to Staten Island, drive around for two hours. I don't know what we're looking for. He makes about five references to going to Chili's - though he knows I wanted to do an Irish pub or at the least get a corned beef sandwich; something he had previously claimed to also want to do. Finally, I say, "Fine. Let's go to Chili's. I don't care. I'm starving." (It's now 3 p.m.) And he snaps at me, "What's with your attitude?! You don't think I'm hungry too!" And that was pretty much the end of our conversation for the day.

We wind up at this Italian restaurant/pizzaria called Villa Monte and have pizza and the beer seen above. Then he takes me back to his apartment where he packs for his week at work and then takes a nap. I nap too, because I have nothing better to do. We wake up at 7:10 p.m. and finally around 7:45 p.m. I say to him, "What are your plans for me?" And as if it's an annoyance, he says to me, "I'll drop you off at a train station in the city on the way to work." Which is what he does.

When he drops me off, he leans over to kiss me and I reflexively, without even thinking, turn my head so he winds up kissing me on the cheek. He says to call him when I get home and something about being safe, but by that time I was already out the car door and halfway to the station. I did not call him when I got home.

And that was my day.

I'll write up the brief, but funny tale of my trip in later. When I'm feeling a little more festive.

So much for parade fever

I overslept this morning and won't be making it down to the city in time for the St. Patrick's Day parade. I am so lame.

I will, however, still be heading into the city, so there will be merry making for all. More to come on that later...

Funny sign

Ah, warmth!

You may have noticed the lack of entries lately. It's because I've been in New Orleans, but I'll be catching a plane home in four hours and I'll update you on some happenings and funny stories. In the meantime I will report that it is super windy here and also warm. And if you wear a green dress, people will shout at you, "Hey Irish girl!" or sometimes "Hey Irish lady!" depending on if they're trying to be classy, I guess.

Potential entry for worst column ever written

We aren't running this, but one of our columnist submitted this as his column for the weekend. He's a Vassar College professor, who will remain nameless. I'll leave the rest for you to judge.


It’s always Easter. But at this time of year we actually talk about it, celebrate it.

Without contradicting any biblical account, I believe it’s useful to imagine the details of the first Easter morning differently than it’s usually depicted. Here’s what I mean:

As the blackness weakened in that hour before sunrise, Jesus suspected He wasn’t dead.

First, He noticed a gray halo of light slipping through the cracks between the cave in which he was entombed and the big rock blocking the entrance.

Then Jesus groaned, “My hands…. they hurt.” He also noticed His ankles ached and there was a throbbing pain in his left side.

When He was finally fully awake, He was still surprised. “Oh, the resurrection, it worked,” He thought. But Jesus was even more surprised at just how painful it was. During His lifetime it just never occurred to Him that the resurrection would hurt.

Now the practical problem: “How do I get the rock out of the way?,” He wondered. Jesus even smiled to Himself at the irony of rising from the dead only to die again of starvation if He couldn’t move that rock.

Avoiding his left side, Jesus slowly twisted Himself off the cold white marble slab, into a standing position. With swollen feet, He hobbled over to the entrance of the tomb.

He leaned against the rock, it didn’t move; He pushed, to no avail; He strained, without success.

Already sweating, He took a deep breath. As He let the air out, an angel appeared. Happy for the company and buoyed by the angel’s glistening garb, the task suddenly seemed less daunting

Working together, Jesus and the angel budged that big rock. “Good, good. That’s enough. I think I can make it through,” Jesus told the angel.

Then, standing straight and sucking in His stomach, Jesus shimmied His way out of the tomb and shuffled into a new dawn, a new civilization.

The advantage of this incarnation-laden account of Easter is how it reflects our deepest experience hope. Even if we have hope to the ultimate degree, all the way to resurrection, it’s always accompanied with struggle.

Of course this is true [here], like anywhere else in the world.

So if we’re homeless and seeking shelter with Hudson River Housing, or hungry and eating your one meal a day at the Lunchbox or depressed and seeking solace from the Mental Health Association our suffering doesn’t exclude hope, in fact, as Jesus shows us, it’s a condition for hope.

Weighing in on Spitzer

I don't think anyone is coming to Bucky's World for news of Spitzer, so instead I'll just share some inside anecdotes.

At about 1:55 p.m. the managing editor comes running (ok, really, it was more walking fast) to my desk and says, and I quote, "Sptizer. Prostitute. What's your plan?." The last line may have been "We need a plan." But I can't remember now. I look at him blankly and said, "What are you talking about? Is this a knock-knock joke?" He said, "No. It's the top update on the Web site." I look at our site, which is up on my computer and say, "I don't see it on our site. What are you talking about." Then he says in an even more frantic voice, "No. The New York TIMES Web site!" As if I was just supposed to guess that. Then for the next seven hours - including two meetings on the topic - my meager staff produced about 14 stories - four full inside pages, plus all but one slot on the cover. More than any other paper in New York State, including the New York Times. Today, the executive editor seemed to be thinking, "Okay, maybe she was right (talking about me, who, for once, was the voice of reason). This WAS a little overkill, as there was no actual resignation."

Now we, along with the rest of the state and national media, are on Spitzer resignation watch.

And this blog entry would not be complete without us giving some love to the New York Post, which once again through taste and ethics out the window when it with the following headline in today's paper (complete with the indefatigable slammer):

And to no one's surprise....

AP: Obama wins Mississippi primary

The Associated Press

JACKSON, Miss. — Barack Obama has coasted to victory in Mississippi’s Democratic presidential primary.

Tuesday’s contest was the latest in a string of racially polarized contests across the Deep South. It was also a final tune-up before next month’s high-stakes race with Hillary Rodham Clinton in Pennsylvania.

The Associated Press made its call based on surveys of voters as they left the polls.

Headline I never thought I'd see

Obama looks to Miss. for momentum

WASHINGTON - Barack Obama focused on Mississippi's primary for new momentum in his tight race with Hillary Rodham Clinton, as a consensus began to emerge about two states stripped of their delegates where do-over contests could weigh heavily in the fierce Democratic White House battle.

Obama was favored to win in Tuesday's nominating race in Mississippi, a southern state where blacks — who have carried him to wins previously — make up a majority of the Democratic voters. The first senator trounced Clinton in Saturday's Wyoming caucuses, rebounding from earlier setbacks in a win that allowed him to retain his all-important delegate lead in his quest to becoming the U.S.'s first black president.

No parade, but I am wearing green today

Well, my resolve to hit up every St. Patrick's Day parade possible didn't get me very far. I did not, as promised, go to the Staten Island parade today. There were a number of reasons this happened. 1) Boyfriend, not on the island this weekend. He's working and his job has him staying at a hotel near JFK. 2) High winds. Lots of water. 3) I was at work last night...well, technically this morning, until 12:15 a.m. Then we had to Spring Ahead, so I didn't wind up going to bed until 3 a.m. (Daylight Savings Time) and I got up at 11 a.m. Thus making it impossible to get to Staten Island for a noon parade.

Oh well, I suspect the other parades I have planned won't present me so much a problem. And I've already begun recruiting people to join me for Greek Independence Day.

Batesville, Miss.

Parade Fever

Speaking of Staten Island, its St. Patrick's Day parade is Sunday. I plan to be there, even if my boyfriend can't make it. (He is already starting in with the whole, "I may have to work" excuse — an oldie, but a favorite of his.) I also plan to attend the NYC parade, which falls on a Monday (along with the actual day).

This is a great year for parades...for me, at least. Everything is falling on the days I have off — Sunday and Monday. This includes the Greek Independence Day parade on April 6, a Sunday. I've decided that since I can't recruit any of my fiends (including the alleged boyfriend) into doing things with me, I'll just have to do them all by myself because there's too much to do to just be hanging out at home all the time.

That said, you are all welcome to come up and join me.

A good review of Staten Island (not mine)

Someone had something positive to say about the island, suggesting Manhattanites take the Staten Island ferry over and hit the restaurants on a nearby street. Sounds nice. I'll have to try them when the weather gets a little nicer. I'll have my own review come the spring.

Has the salt air made you feel a bit peckish? Is so, exit the ferry terminal and walk to Bay Avenue, Staten Island's picturesque corniche. Go three blocks left to Victory Boulevard, which is a hotbed of amazing eats.

Your choices include Trinidadian, Polish, Italian, Jamaican, and Sri Lankan, plus a half-dozen Mexican taquerias. I most recommend Island Roti Shop (65 Victory Boulevard), where you can get a mean goat or conch roti, and Taqueria El Gallo Azteca (75 Victory Boulevard), where you can scarf cemitas, the round Pueblan sandwiches. My fave is milanesa, made with a pounded and fried beef cutlet and fiery sundried chipotle peppers.

New Jersey Transit

Had my first experience with public transportation in New Jersey today. I took the train from Newark airport into the city and was surprised at how easy it was to use. The ticketing process was simple and it took no time at all to get from the airport to Penn Station (New York).

I also learned there was a Penn Station Newark. That is a little confusing. Anyone know why there are two Penn Stations in such close proximity? There was at least one guy that wasn't paying attention and got off in New Jersey when he was headed to New York. Then again, he also tried to get off at the airport where I got on, not realizing it was NOT NYC, so I think maybe he just has some serious confusion issues going on.

Actually, so far getting to Newark rates WAY higher on the ease and quickness scale than getting to JFK via public transportation. I haven't yet tried to get to LaGuardia, but I've mapped it out in case I ever have to. It involves a bus and I'm pretty leery of those as I have a fundamental inability to understand their routes. But a bus with a giant sign that says "To LaGuardia airport" pulls right up to the Harlem/125th Street Metro North stop, so I'm confident I can get TO the airport. I'm just not so confident I could get back...you know without calling up TomClancy and saying, "Come get me at the airport. I have no idea where these buses go!"

The C.A. in song

So for the last few months I've been driving around with this Spoon CD in my car (given to me by one of my two music gurus, Min), listening to it off and on and bugged by Track 9, which I could have SWORN was about a newspaper I used to work at. But then I thought, that's ridiculous, why would anyone sing about The Commercial Appeal.

But it turns out, that's exactly what they were singing about:

Spoon Lyrics
"Finer Feelings"

Memphis comes creeping down my back
Somehow this place tastes just like an attack
A hundred-yard-stare of a kiss
Lord, I know I'll never miss it

They told me stop scouting the field
They told me have a look in Commercial Appeal
And start getting that hair cut sharp

Sometimes I think that I'll find a love
One that's gonna change my heart
I'll find it in Commercial Appeal
And then this heartache'll get chased away

I was part-time at the Tasty Prawn
That and moving furniture and cutting lawns
Covered in newsprint, staying up real late
Just holding out for some fate

Sometimes I think that I'll find a love
One that's gonna change my heart
I'll find it in Commercial Appeal
And then this heartache'll get chased away
[x2]

I was dreaming in the driver's seat
When the right words just came to me
And all my finer feelings came up

Always out on some witch's hunt
For the one who never lets me want
Before you know it it's all fuss

Sometimes I think that I'll find a love
One that's gonna change my heart
I'll find it in Commercial Appeal
And then this heartache'll get chased away
[x2]

It's snowing. Again.

Sigh.

Go Cup Gold

I guess I knew that my godparents daughter (or godsister, as I like to call her) Cathy was famous - I mean I see her on TV, in cooking magazines, sometimes in the Sunday coupons for Glad or Reynolds Warp or something like that, and she has her own cookbooks - but it must not have sunk in because yesterday I was truly shocked when, looking at my boyfriend's Starbucks cup, I saw this:



Iron Chef is all nice and what not, but you know you've arrived when you score the quote on the back of a Starbucks go cup.

Snow dog

Snow, Snow

We got our first big snow of the year on Friday. I'm a little late putting these up, but here are a few scenes from my day:

Blast From The Past

Naxos. I miss you. Especially since a blizzard is supposed to arrive tomorrow.

Brooklyn by way of dishes

There's a store in the city called Fishs Eddy — for those of you that haven't yet gotten a gift from me from the store. It makes dishes. There are a couple of lines that feature local landmarks, like Central Park, Conney Island, the Manhattan skyline. And then there is the Brooklyn line, as seen here on my absolute favorite item — the butter dish.

Staten Island. Like Brooklyn, but without stuff, and with detached houses, and...OK, nothing at all like Brooklyn

[Sigh] I did not go to Park Slope today. I went to someplace that was very much NOT Park Slope. I went, instead, to Staten Island.

In particular, I went to what I believed is called the Woodrow section of Staten Island, where my boyfriend just moved from Westchester County. He moved to Staten Island because Brooklyn - where he works - was too expensive to live in. Actually he's not the first person I've heard say that. Some friends of mine recently moved from Park Slope to Manhattan because MANHATTAN was cheaper. When did THAT happen?!

Anyway, I digress. Staten Island.

You see, I really want to have an open mind. I'm not originally from here. (I know. I know. Who is?) I shouldn't have any inherent dislike of that island, no reason to think of it as a garbage dump. But here's the thing about New York - all of New York - everywhere I go all the stereotypes and things you see in movies and on television seem to be true (except people, in general, are WAY nicer than they are given credit for. WAY nicer). But from what I've seen of Staten Island - and it's not a lot yet - it is a dump. And, to make matters worse, there is nothing but houses for MILES where my boyfriend lives. There is a gas station and a Domino's that delivers. Google and the phone book were no help. So we had Domino's. ARG! Staten Island! ARG!

I'm sure this won't be the last you hear of my life with Staten Island. Unfortunately.

Oh, Cobble Hill! You are SO easy.

So, it's pretty exciting times here in Bucky's World, as I've managed to piss off an entire section of Brooklyn. [See companion story here.] I know, I know. I've reached the big time. I'll be expecting a call from the New York Times and Oprah any day now.

But, do you not think that, uhm, perhaps...just perhaps...they are a tad bit too sensitive in Cobble Hill as 1) I have a total readership of about 6 (well, until now) and 2) I spend an inordinate amount of my time eating and then blogging about apples? I mean, for all they know, I am an 11-year-old circus freak and I'm blogging from my winter home in Romania and I never even BEEN to Cobble Hill.

There was one kind soul, however, who wrote:

we live nearby and couldn’t agree more. Lupo is no longer welcoming as it was when it opened and it is a stroller parking lot at happy hr.
Snarky. Yes. Accurate. Yes.

Anyway, tomorrow I have my sights set on pissing off Park Slope. Also, I'm now taking requests. Anyone else I should try and anger while I'm at it? Apparently, wanting to have a decent lunch on Valentine's Day and expecting good food and good service are too much to ask for in the Big C.H. That's something only crazy people in the suburbs should expect. Oh you crazy, suburban dwellers with your Olive Gardens and your Trader Joe's and your Starbucks...Wait a minute!

Nothing can stay free forever, especially in this town

Well, I don't think anyone ever thought the ferry would stay free forever. But still, sometimes a girl like to dream. The Independent Budget Office offered among one of its many creative ways to raise money, charging for the now free Staten Island ferry. All I can see this doing is decreasing the number of people who ride it and thus making it not worth the effort and in turn leading to it being decommissioned like so many other ferries in the region. But I could be wrong. Maybe people would pay $4 just to ride the ferry. I, however, would not. Full story below:

NEW YORK (AP) — If the city is looking for ways to pinch pennies in tough times, an independent budget agency has a few ideas: taxes on cosmetic surgery, laundry services and luxury apartment rentals, charging tourists to ride the Staten Island ferry and collecting fees from residents based on how much garbage they throw out.
The Independent Budget Office, a city agency that does not report to the mayor, on Wednesday laid out 63 proposals in its report entitled “Budget Options for New York City.”
The report stressed that the agency’s economists and analysts do not endorse any of the ideas but simply present them, along with projected savings and arguments for and against.
While many of the proposals are unlikely to be enacted, Mayor Michael Bloomberg often says he appreciates creative thinking — particularly in finding new ways to save money and bring in more revenue.
And Bloomberg has increasingly warned that the city could be facing a precarious economic situation. Last month he presented a budget plan for the next fiscal year, which begins July 1, that demands cuts from every city agency.
The Independent Budget Office report looked at a variety of ways the city could find savings or generate new income. Many seem to be targeted toward the rich, like a proposed tax on luxury apartments.
Owners of units that rent for more than $3,000 per month would pay a 1 percent tax; with an estimated 50,000 such apartments in the city, this tax would raise approximately $24.2 million in 2009, the report said, and would only grow as the number of luxury apartments — and their base rent — also increases.
Or what about a tax on cosmetic procedures, both surgical and nonsurgical — like Botox, chemical peels and facials? The report estimates more than $1.4 billion was generated in the city in 2006 for cosmetic procedures by board-certified physicians, and much more by those who are not certified, such as facialists.
The report estimates $65 million annually could be generated by such a tax.
Another idea is to tax services such as laundering, dry cleaning, tailoring, shoe repairing and shoe shining.
The budget office projects that applying the sales tax to these services could bring in about $40 million annually, and it notes that the bulk of these taxes would be paid by “more affluent consumers who use such services more frequently.”
Another idea is a “pay as you throw” program that charges households for waste disposal, based on how much garbage they throw out.
Some cities, such as San Francisco and Seattle, already have versions of this program, the report noted. In New York, a household would pay an average of $91 a year, netting the city a savings of $296 million. It could also have the added environmental benefit of more awareness about trash and recycling and an overall reduction in waste.
One proposal that New Yorkers may favor — but those outside the city might not like — is to charge tourists to ride the Staten Island ferry, which is now free to the millions of commuters and tourists who ride it each year.
Of the 19 million riders each year, an estimated 3.6 million are from outside the metro area, the report said. Imposing a round-trip $4 fare on those outsiders, while also charging regular commuters a nominal fee for an annual pass, would bring in an estimated $3.4 million annually.

AP Dish, not Wire

Once upon a time, I'm sure, the news from the Associated Press (AP)* was transmitted over an actual wire. But as technology tends to do, we've advance now and the AP stories come shooting to us via large satellite dishes that sit atop our building.

I bring this up, not because it's any kind of new revelation — the AP dish has been around my entire career - but because as I was sitting outside the building earlier today, waiting for my car to warm up and staring at the dish, I realized how much the dish sucks in the winter. It particularly sucks on a snowy Saturday when building maintenance isn't here and we have to climb up there with a broom and knock the snow off it. It just occurred to me that this was nothing I ever had to do in the south. When news wasn't moving on the wire, it's because there was no news to move. Now it's because someone needs to go up and knock the snow off. Just another reason to be oh, so tired of snow.


*Most of you are either reporters or people who know reporters or people who at least READ the news and thus know what the AP is. (Some of you, it's true, even WORK for the AP.) For those of you who do not, it is a global news organization/behemoth, which provides print and broadcast stories for member news organizations...namely every paper you've ever read.

To anonymous, with love

We are all, so very stupid.

The New York Times
Dumb and Dumber: Are Americans Hostile to Knowledge?
By PATRICIA COHEN

A popular video on YouTube shows Kellie Pickler, the adorable platinum blonde from "American Idol," appearing on the Fox game show "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" during celebrity week. Selected from a third-grade geography curriculum, the $25,000 question asked: "Budapest is the capital of what European country?"

Ms. Pickler threw up both hands and looked at the large blackboard perplexed. "I thought Europe was a country," she said. Playing it safe, she chose to copy the answer offered by one of the genuine fifth graders: Hungary. "Hungry?" she said, eyes widening in disbelief. "That's a country? I've heard of Turkey. But Hungry? I've never heard of it."

Such, uh, lack of global awareness is the kind of thing that drives Susan Jacoby, author of "The Age of American Unreason," up a wall. Ms.Jacoby is one of a number of writers with new books that bemoan the state of American culture.

Cobble Hill is no Brooklyn Heights

I had a very miserable morning/afternoon stuck in New York traffic. I spent hours in bumper to bumper traffic both in Brooklyn and trying to get out. It was like it was Fourth of July weekend or something and everyone was trying to get to their summer homes. By the time we found a place to park and then a place to eat, I was cold, had a caffeine headache and was tired, plus my ears hurt [see cold].

So we wound up at Bocca Lupo, a wine bar that serves panini lunches. It's one of those places where the portions are small, the prices are big and the service is bad. And I was NOT in the mood for such a place. Then all of The Cobble Hill moms started pouring in with their SUV-sized baby strollers. It was everything the stereotype says it is. I am not at all enamored of Cobble Hill. I'd like to go back to Brooklyn Heights, please.

But lots o' love for this guy!

Yea! I've been cheering for this guy for the last two days. Watching Westminster beats watching the primaries!

NEW YORK (AP) — America has a new Snoop doggie.

Barking and baying up a storm, Uno lived up to his name Tuesday night by becoming the first beagle to win best in show at the Westminster Kennel Club.

The nation's new top dog was clearly the crowd favorite, and drew a standing ovation from the sold-out crowd at Madison Square Garden when he was picked.

No love for me

So I'll be spending yet another Valentine's Day alone. I don't know why I keep taking the day off. Well, part of the reason is that for the last two years I've had to work the Monday before and so I've had to pick another day in the week to take off. And while both years I was promised a date, the week of my date (the same one both times) has backed out, blaming it on work.

I've never been a big Valentine's Day person. I mean, I like to go out to dinner - or make dinner at home - and I'll take flowers any time during the year, but some people go crazy. The other day I was in Target and I was in line behind this guy and his thuggish friends. And the dude was buying two stuffed animals and six or seven hearts filled with chocolate. All together he spent just a wee bit under $100. And I don't think it was all for the same lady. He asked my advice on which heart filled chocolate I would prefer. When the woman working the register said, "What kind of chocolate does she like?" referring to the woman he was buying for, he answered, "I don't know. That's the problem." I suppose it was funnier if you were there.

I think I'll wish you all a happy UN-Valentine's Day and find some nice man-hating movies to watch on Thursday.

Earthquake

2 earthquakes rattle Greek port, but no immediate reports of damage

ATHENS, Greece (AP) — Twin earthquakes rattled the western Greek port of Patras, but there were no immediate reports of injury or damage, officials said Tuesday.

The Athens-based Institute of Geodynamics said a 5.4-magnitude quake occurred at 10:25 p.m. Monday and a 5.5-magnitued quake struck around noon Tuesday. Both quakes were centered around 100 miles southwest of Athens and 25 miles outside Patras.

“The activity is ongoing but the likelihood of a very strong earthquake is considered to be very slight,” Institute director Giorgos Stavrakakis said. “This is a phenomemon of twin earthquakes or virtually identical magnitude. It’s not common but it is well known.”

Before there were gods, there were...more gods?

I'm a little confused by this article in the New York Times today about a discovery of a deity that predates Zeus worshiped by the Greeks before they were Greeks. (I guess Greek-speaking people came later from the Balkans. At least that's what the article says.) I mean first I'm confused about how they look at these shards of pottery without any markings on them and determine that they were vessels in which offerings to gods were left:



Maybe it was just a good place to store meat. But more confusing is that I thought there was already established gods before Zeus. Much of Delphi was built over a temple to Gaia (otherwise known as Mother Earth). There's a cave there, which is off limits to visitors due to danger of collapsing, that was believed to be the birthplace of the deity; a crack that goes to the center of the earth and from which she crawled onto the surface and created life.

Maybe these new gods are supposed to pre-date her too, but Zeus is more widely known, so they used him? Either way, they should really explain it better.

NY Times: Giants Stun Patriots in Super Bowl XLII

This is a very dark day indeed.

Update: Books, Movies, More. Part 1: Books

There's not really a "more." I just thought it sounded better with three things, instead of two.

It's been months since I updated my reading/viewing, and so I won't be covering everything I read/watched, but I'll do my best to sum up.

Read:
The Sea, The Sea by Iris Murdoch - My least favorite book by her (thus far). Skip it unless you are trying to read the entire catelogue of her works.

The City of Falling Angels by John Berendt - This book had the opposite effect on me that his last book Midnight In The Garden of Good and Evil did. I never want to go to Venice, ever. Savannah, however, I would move back to in a heartbeat. The book was fine. I didn't hate it. It just wasn't very unique since it's the exact same formula as Midnight. You'd be better served re-reading the first book and skipping this one.

Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Season 8(comic) - I'm glad the gang is back, even if it's just in comic form. However, I'm not sure I've yet warmed to the legion of Slayers in army-like format. I would like to see something new and all of this feels a little rehashed.

Confessions of a Teen Sleuth by Chelsea Cain - (I may have mentioned this one in a previous post.) Funny. Funny. Funny. Especially for anyone out there that read Nancy Drew as a young lass...or lad — I'm not judging. It's a spoof of the teen detective novels we all loved as a child. The main character is indeed Nancy Drew. Though this is supposed to be the "real" Nancy Drew (actually named Nancy Drew) whose college roommate Carolyn Keen stole her story and wrote the world-famous books about her adventures as a falsely fictitious character. Anyway it picks up where all the books left off and follows her through college, marriage and into old age and is purposely written over-the-top in the language of the original hardback Nancy Drew books. Check it out. You'll have a good laugh.

Bought:
The Nice and The Good by Iris Murdoch
Love In the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
El Amor en Los Tiempos del Colera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
(That's right. I bought the same book in two languages. Take that Nick Hornby.)
The Daily Show with Jon Stewart Presents America (The Book): A Citizen's Guide to Democracy Inaction

I also sold three books on half.com. (Thanks, Melinda, for that introduction.)

Nice day outside, wish I had brakes

Because the weather is so nice today, I've decided to stay in and update my blog.

Well, the truth is I did just walk the dog, so I was outside for about an hour. But I can't really go anywhere till I get my brake pads replaced tomorrow. I went last week to have my oil changed and tires rotated at Firestone, where I always go, primarily because 1) it's on my way to work and 2) it's next to Borders, so I can look for books I don't need and also get coffee - two very important aspects of my life.

So I come back and the guy at Firestone calls me to the desk. This always happens. Every time I go in they try to convince me I need something done. I say no thanks and then I go to AutoZone and do it myself (if it needs to be done). WAY cheaper to do it yourself. For example: You need new wiper blades. That will cost $40. AutoZone price for Bosch wipers: About $22. This time they tell me I need new front brake pads. It will cost a little over $250 to have them replace them. The guy puts the hard sell on me, saying they are almost metal to metal. I need to have it done immediately. I find the phrasing a little funny since they are semi-metallic brakes. They want to replace them with ceramic. No price give on the cheaper semi-metallic brakes.

This is a problem, because I CAN'T replace the brake pads. Wipers, air filters, belts, batteries - all these things I can do myself. Brake pads require jacking the car up, take off the tires, taking off the pads, putting on the new pads, tires, etc. Then repeating on the other side. Not having any air compressed-tools and only the jack that came with the car, this would not be impossible, but would certainly feel that way as I was doing it. The current brake pads on the car came from AutoZone and my dad put them on four years ago. Apparently Nissan Pathfinders blow through brakes like I do bags of coffee.

So anyway, I obviously do not have a spare $250 lying around. So I'm wondering what to do when the mail comes (I'm back at home at this point) and there is a coupon for a local tire/brake place that will do per axle for $69 metallic $89 ceramic. This is too good to be true, I think. I call them up and ask if labor is included. They say yes and can do my Pathfinder. Woo-hoo! Victory is mine.

Sometimes I get tired of being a girl and dealing with auto-related places. They are always trying to get one over on you, thinking you don't know what you're doing. Actually between this experience and the first dentist I went to up here, I'm just getting tired of people thinking I'm a complete moron and trying to rip me off. I should start a blog of places NOT to ever go.

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.