With the fate of the world seemingly in question, this year I predict a major turn out for Earth Day events. Aside from the parade, there are numerous events, concerts, talks, events at the Museum of Natural History, The Brooklyn Botanic Garden and The Brooklyn Children's Museum.
There's also the massive Green Apple Festival, a triboro festival of concerts with such performers as the Paul Green School of Rock All Stars. Any way you slice it, there is something you can do to celebrate.
My ear nose and throat doctor is kind of a dick. You know the kind that interrogates you about symptoms then tries to trip you up as if he knows you're lying.
I came to him for help, why would I lie about post nasal drip? We're talking about my sinuses, not whether or not I robbed the Rite Aid last night, bad cop. And while we're on the subject of jerky doctors, I had an orthodontist that I would like to call out, his name was William Something.
That being said, I was nervous about my hearing test, not because I have bad hearing (I can hear someone eat with their mouth open from across an ocean; a blessing and a curse), but because I thought he'd throw me off with his jerky ways.
Fortunately, this totally nice lady wearing one of those odd shoulder pad short sleeve shirt long dresses was my tester. The experience is pretty cool, I felt like I was in Andromeda Strain, being tested to go into Wildfire, if the art director had gone in a brown carpet direction rather than bright whites and primary colors. You go into a box and repeat words and phrases like “birthday”, “blackbird” and “sunshine” as well as listen for tiny beeps.
I passed with flying colors, but found out I do not have super human hearing like I had hoped. I can not, as previously stated, actually hear someone eating with their mouth open from across an ocean.
Of course, Dr. Doom had to throw some shadows on the proceedings by telling me that there is a slight imperceptible dip in my hearing due to exposure to loud noises. He cited earphones, subways, and bars as culprits. He also suggested I wear ear plugs all of the time because, “You're young and you think that you're invincible–well your not”.
He said he wears earplugs all the time and it never impedes on his life. “Oh really, I wanted to ask, is that why you aren't wearing them right now?” But I just smiled politely and promised to buy some wondering why he was so cheap he couldn't just give me the packaged pair he was waving around in my face.
But, yeah, get your hearing tested – you're young but you're going to die someday!
Last week I mentioned that I had attended a few live WWF events. This soap opera with violence was an obsession at the time, from watching on TV to eventually screaming in stadiums. In all I saw four live shows: the first found me naive and ignorant, going in American flag face paint (because we didn't know any of the current wrestlers then, we just assumed one would be into the red, white and blue).
That one was the gateway show and soon, after watching the program religiously and becoming very well acquainted with the people's elbow; Austin 3:16; braces on huge women; face masks, and an evil genius, we attended our second and most fulfilling show outside the city: Excitement was in the air and we felt as one with the other fans… we saw the people's elbow in person and it was AWESOME! But all good things must end, just ask Stone Cold Steve Austin, a man who used to grace a talking t-shirt I gave Jim during our courtship (it yelled “And that's the bottom line!”) who is now but a faded memory.
My love affair ended abruptly during my fourth live show. Jim and I splurged and got up close floor seats where the barbarity and of my die-hard fans in “the pit” made me turn in my Triple H fever and my Undertaker excitement and never look back. I liked WWF for the fun and over the top, scintillating drama. What I didn't see on TV or up in the bleachers was the violence and terrible behavior it endorsed and perpetuated in its most loyal followers: Men were telling twelve year old girls to sit down in front or they'd do things to them that I won't mention; fans were fighting and angry and I was actually scared.
It was ugly and it was crude and I no longer felt a comradery with the crowd, but my more familiar snootiness. That night ruined wrestling for me, but I can never forget the memories.
Maybe you can experience what I once did, after all, the Undertaker is still active and the company is on tour perpetually. But I recommend getting cheap tickets, the pit fans are no good.
Watching me try to do this hip hop exercise routine is so mortifying, I even thought of videoing it as part of a comedy routine. I can't remember the exact name of the DVD I own because it's (thankfully) still boxed away right now, but I do know that the lady is a choreographer for Madonna and that she repeatedly shouts out some phrase like “Show me your flair!” or “Add your pizzazz!” or “Give it your own styilio!”
See, not only do you have to attempt the sexy club dance routine, but this mad woman wants you to make it your own by adding your own personal hip hop elan. I have not seen what my interpretation of this unfair and unexpected demand looks like, but since I'm so far from being naturally hip hoppy I can only imagine it looks like crippled pain or deflated sorrow. I haven't done this since it left me feeling painfully shy and embarrassed in front of my own cats
There is only one upcoming New York performance listed (March 21st), so I have to give you a heads up before I have a chance to actually see it. So if it is terrible you can go ahead and blame me, see if I care. I truly don't expect anything less that a great time however, especially since having read the book version of this cringe-fest (more on that book next week, promise).
The book and live show feature real diary entries, notes, and letters from the most embarrassing and awkward years of the authors' lives. I have no idea who will be reading this week, but if the book is any indication, there will be at least one journal entry dealing with the hotness of Duran Duran's John Taylor.
Mortified is the brain child of David Nadelberg and he and friends have opened several grass roots chapters across the country, so keep an eye out for a performance near you. If you live in the city, pick up a ticket (only $12).
Take a couple minutes to make a reservation for Dine In Brooklyn week.
Unlike the less than impressive Restaurant Week in Manhattan, which features drab pre fixe menus and slightly higher prices, it looks like most of these places are making an effort to use the week as an opportunity to introduce outsiders to their neighborhood and food.
Of course, we shall see when Jim and I dine at iCi (pictured) which will make its way to the Picks if it's worthy. And even if the menu choices end up not featuring the best the restaurants have to offer, it will only set you back $21.12 and you will get to see a new part of Brooklyn in the process.
Have fun and don't reserve a place down the street, venture out a bit. Brooklyn is huge and varied and this is a great excuse to see more of it.
This is one of those tasks that starts as a fun project and grows tedious when you realize you are only in the G's and the question of whether or not to keep Georgie Girl seems to matter less and less (I mean, I love the movie, but frankly, the whistling is on the wrong side of annoying–you know what I mean?).
So I actually recommend doing this chore for a couple hours, but over several days. The amount of things I don't know the who, what, where, when of how it ended up on my machine is amazing with all the songs I have been given and downloaded. Sometimes it's good, nothing beats discovering a great song, but it goes the other way too, and before you know it your either stuck listening to the bad kind of whiny indie rock or some horrid club music and you can't get the space on your crowded train to maneuver a change.
It is an awful experience and requires a good iPod cleaning, even if it means sifting through 3000 plus songs to do it.
There is much to explore in this brownstone and babies neighborhood as far as shopping goes. You will find yourself particularly content if you're a fan of the new craft and design movement, the likes of which are featured on previous pick design sponge.
I went the other week with co-workers on a shopping excursion to see the trends and find inspiration. I also found a great new purse with copious amount of pockets on the outside at Rare Device, a great shop with an equally good site in case you can't make it.
RD is on 7th Ave., one of the two main drags we explored, the other is 5th Ave. Both will take a few hours to traverse. There are a ton of shops along the route–my only complaint being that after a while many seem to blur together.
Bird and its for children sister, Babybird, Matter (which was closed when we stopped by, but was exciting just to pear inside the window), Cog and Pearl, and the aforementioned RD are the ones that really stand out. It was toe freezingly chilly the day we went, but as the weather gets nicer, make sure to rest your shop til you drop feet in beautiful Prospect Park.
Based on the video on this site (where I purchased my tin), one would think installing your own pressed tin backsplash would be simple. Yet, I was nervous like crazy once we got the panels, fearing that I had really gotten in over my head.
So, was I right? Yes and no, it is certainly hard work and you need to take your time and measure, but we found ourselves totally capable and it looks so very lovely.
I never thought I'd say this, but if you haven't seen the movie Point Break, you just won't get it. This joyfully low budget production pays homage to the ludicrous and entertaining Keanu/Swayze surfing caper/action adventure movie with relish.
Each night the the production calls forward a member of the audience to play the Keanu character, Johnny Utah; the rest of the cast varies from annoying theater girl to pretty hilarious. The actors portraying Angelo Pappas and Roach stood out as the most excellent, but mainly, perhaps, due to those characters having some of the best lines.
It feels like a very creative jr. high school performance with blood, cap guns, water fights, and lots of boy wrestling. Oh, and that blood and water can make its way into the audience, so do pick up a survival kit for a dollar at the door. If only more plays could have this kind of energy and merrymaking.