Remember the band, Travis? Remember when Coldplay was good? Remember in the 90's when half the bands you loved were British or wannabe Brit's? Well, that 'era' really never stopped for me. Of course, my hair reflects otherwise but who's counting?
As my quest continues to find music that isn't thrust upon me thru the American Idol marketing juggernaut, or Grey's Anatomy soundtrack supervisors I came across this fine group called 'Thirteen Senses'. Click here to visit their myspace page. The song "Lights Out" (no, not a remake of Westside Connection's anthem) was what I wanted to plug. Alas, it wasn't to be found on imeem. Bastards.
I do seem to have a propensity for finding myself part of rain-soaked random nights out in New York. Not only do they manage to ruin shoes, spirits, and straight-from-the-salon hair dos (not mine) but they usually end up with me, amidst some most random company. In the case of Saturday night... at a sports pub, an underground cavern/club and at a late night bar/cafe with a bachelorette party. Um, huh? Yeah, I'm not so sure either. Thought I'd share the evening's mayhem thru a map because hey, everyone loves maps.
Scruffy Duffy's - Irish pub meets over-testosterone-ized sports bar. La Caverna - Underground Lower East Side club for art-types plagued with identity crisis, but let's face it, still pretty hot. The DJ was spinning the classics and any DJ that can integrate rock into a set gets a thumbs up in my book. Schiller's Liquor Bar - Run by the same people that made Balthazar. Ambiance couldn't be cooler, think retro French cafe meets Tribeca loft. What can I say? I' m a sucker for 'ze cafes.
note: I've purposely been toning down the posts with pics of friends and folks. Just decided it best for the sake of privacy.
I enjoyed "Sin City". Perhaps not as much as a lot of people, but it was pretty good and artistically stunning. Now, I could sit here and say the same for "300" but I think the meat of it would basically be: it was pretty good and athletically stunning.
I mean seriously. How defined can one's abs be? Well, this movie brought that to a new level. There's a scene where the Spartan soldiers crest a hill and the vaseline-lathered, ultra flexed muscles of the men cast in painfully perfect lighting on a super slow-mo camera cause the entire female audience to go into convulsions and the men to put aside their buttered popcorn and start poking their belly's in shame. The camera never goes 10 minutes without making sure you're aware those abs are there. After all, they did go thru ridiculously grueling workouts to get those puppies.
I digress. Heck, I didn't even talk about the movie. Let's just say it's worth a watch, but only if you're a woman (or man) that wants to swoon. Otherwise, it's just endless amounts of slow-mo-gore and chiseled cheekbones. If I could review this just on the cinematography and visual effects I'd give it a 5 stars hands down but alas, that is not the case.
Ever discovered something in the toy aisle at Target, built up its fun-potential through the roof, and then thought, "Wow (or in my case, Dude)...I really NEED this!"...Okay, maybe you all haven't done that since you were 12, or, perhaps you've maintained a higher maturity level than me since birth (I'm not judging you, I swear...just saying some of us have...and no, I am not trying mitigate any personal deficiencies -maybe I am, but I digress). Anyway, ladies and gentlemen (boys and girls), I purchased this fine device (pictured to your right, courtesy of Amazon -evidently, I got a steal compared to the online price...and yes, i'm unashamedly trying to save some face with meager dollars and cents). I mean, virtual reality HAS to be cool this day in age -they've only been talking about it my whole life now! What better way to test man's technological prowess than through a plug-n-play table tennis game? Am I right? It's shocking how easy this decision was for me.
Well, I purchased it, hooked it up to my TV, and somehow coerced my girlfriend into playing a few games. True to my table-tennis style (trust me, you would remember if we've ever played), I was kickin' tail (and lost two or three matches). The worst part about it (and also true to style), I was taking full-on, Sampras-like forehands, swatting bitch-slap backhands (mere phraseology kids), and manipulating my spins with utmost precision...or so I thought. Meanwhile, my girlfriend, well, she yawned and flicked her wrist every once in a while (which I'm told was later reduced to twitches). I didn't care to notice, as my competitive zeal had already taken over. In fact, what I had purchased was not a Wii. For a brief moment, I had achieved nirvana (or had to be close). I had somehow managed to rekindle my 5-year old imagination while satisfying my inner, mid-20's, bargain-hunting, hunger-driven, consumer-beast and thought my new game was spectacular. In truth, I stood in my living room (sweating) with nothing to show for my money or athletic ability (guys, this is not the way to show off to your girlfriend). It's hard to do but I'll respectfully admit, it's junk -they pulled a "fast" one on me...but, I'll hang onto it (and maybe beat her next time -at VR table tennis...or perhaps a sports trivia contest based solely on the Rick Pitino era at UK circa 1989-1997...ya' know, whatever works). Maybe, just maybe, it will entertain a two-year old one day (or a dog, you never know). Thank goodness I didn't buy the baseball game (I was so close). If I just rained on anyone's parade, my sincerest apologies (at least we can start a support group or something).
This morning I went for brunch at a friend of my cousin's friend's (huh?) place down in Greenwich Village. Man, I went there only expecting a Falafel and some soda but it turned out to be far better then that. As you can see from the photo it wasn't exactly "fast food" but more like "lotsa food" cooked supremely well by Beto (Alberto) and his legion of orange t-shirt clad certified Vegan cooking compadres.
Definitely worth a visit if you're ever up in the city and looking for some Kosher food, or just a damn fine falafel.
One of the best bagel places in Manhattan is Ess-A-Bagel. Ess-a-bagel is delish and if you ever want a try, go to their website and order yourself some. They deliver all across the world, it's the best. The toasted wheat bagel with smoked tuna salad and pepper jack cheese is chewable bliss. Luckily enough Ess-a-Bagel is about 100 feet away from the front door of my apartment building. One of the best places to eat a bagel in Manhattan is Greenacre park. Luckily enough Greenacre park is about 25 feet away from the front door of my apartment. Combined, it's breakfast bliss.
This weekend I was at a restaurant called Da Nico. It was Delish. (ok, i'll stop with the jokes)...
Anyway, it was made better by the fact that it was more or less a spontaneous experience since there was no original intention to go there. The matire' des were quick, courteous and well dressed (yeah, I know...).
Beyond that I have to say the food turned out quite well. We dove right into several antipasti dishes of portebello mushrooms, homemade mozzarella & tomatoes and calimari. I opted for one of the day's specials, a lamb chop with broccoli rabe and a Charlie Brown Christmas tree sized stalk of rosemary (alas, no red ornament). The super size portion of lamb was tear-inducingly tender and each subsequent bite caused further crying. That's ok, I had Pellegrino and Chianti to wash them away with.
My cousin is in town and we've been acclimating her back into the New York scene after her one point five year hiatus in Korea. One of the things I love most about my cousin is her tenacious appetite. It's a beautiful thing.
This morning, er, afternoon we went to get brunch at The Spotted Pig down in Greenwich Village. As you can see from the photo to the right it was certainly a most scrumptious affair. She partook in a chargrilled burger with Roquefort cheese and shoestring fries and I in a more concerted effort at breakfast - two eggs, salt cured pork and home fries. We washed it down with still water and some French press coffee which certainly awoke us from our groggy-eyed late start.
Well suffice it to say that the meal was devoured with smiles, laughing and caffeine induced hand shakes. I think I managed to get half the coffee into the mugs and half on the table. I think the only sour point was the massive quantites of what appeared to be bacon bits in our coffee cream... that or 'spots'. Get it?? Wow, that wasn't funny at all.
Delicious food? Yes. Pricey? A bit. Long wait for table? 40 minutes.
A couple of weeks ago I went to dinner at Rare, a restaurant at the base of the Shelbourne Hotel here in midtown. 'Twas a delightful dinner of belgian fries, sweet potato sticks a delicious house salad and quite possibly the tallest burger I have ever laid my brown-hued cow eyes on.
I mean seriously, they couldn't even use one of those over sized toothpicks to hold it together. I had to stand up and pull the flagpole out of the burger then quickly catch it using my right elbow and left knee to make sure it didn't topple and crush my dinner companion. If you look carefully to the right you'll see a somewhat normal sized ground-beef sandwich, I mean burger. Mine of course, stood there in an almost comical stature of 12 feet 16 inches.
All that said, it was a delicious dinner but that's probably the last time I'll ever take on a place wheren $86 tab can be rung up over burgers. No mas.
TOSMR: "Rare is delicious but it will make your money just as rare." Midweekpost Rating (out of 5):
Midweekpost.com
is a take on New York City thru the eyes (and camera) of an OCD, ADD, Scorpio written in the timeless, Thoreau inspired, form of blogging. Or as we like to refer to
it: ADD writing for ADD reading. It's authored by a most contradictive guy armed with a most applicable Univ. of Tennessee economics degree working in the media industry
as a producer (you're damn right that's cliche') of design (huh?) for a major broadcast company's digital initiative (say wha?) that has somehow managed to
find his Korean, yet not Korean looking self living in the city that Ambien & Cosmo induced coma never sleeps. All that said, I don't promise greatness and I won't promise awesome but I will
promise New York and a little dash o' me.
Remember the band, Travis? Remember when Coldplay was good? Remember in the 90's when half the bands you loved were British or wannabe Brit's? Well, that 'era' really never stopped for me. Of course, my hair reflects otherwise but who's counting?
