Boat Guy

On the way back from our trip to Europe, we encountered an older man, probably in his 50s or 60s sitting near us on the plane. We named him "Boat Guy," because at the beginning of our flight, he was looking at boats online on his mac.

Later in the flight, Laurel and I played M.A.S.H. so as to keep ourselves awake, and also because it was hilarious. Unfortunately, my results were rather dismal: I was to marry Boat Guy.

Even later in the flight (this flight was a connection flight from Raleigh to NYC, so it was actually quite short), Laurel and I both noticed that BG was typing furiously on his keyboard. I assumed that his profession was that of an author, or that he just really likes to journal his experiences.

Then Laurel gave me a look. She was closer to BG and had seen what he was typing. She was giggling, and I forced my camera, zoomed in, into her hands. She took a picture, and below is what he was typing. Click on the picture to read it.

In essence, yes, he his an author. Of EROTIC FICTION. And terribly written erotic fiction at that. When the steward made him put his computer away, BG was visibly upset. He was obviously in the middle of a fit of inspiration and couldn't be bothered.

He closed out his Microsoft Word, and as he was turning off his computer, we got a glimpse of his background: a picture of him, his wife, and his two children.

Simply put, I can't wait to marry him.

Atlantic Antic

This past Sunday was Brooklyn's infamous Atlantic Antic, which I had never been to (and therefore never truly lived in Brooklyn, but that's fine considering I just moved here from Queens in March).

We went to check out the digs, which included...

A snake, and a little girl who was having a staring contest with me...


The weirdest tribute to Patrick Swayze I've ever seen. I really wonder what the sign was before he passed...


And some old timey buses...


I wanted to get a shot of the Jackie Gleason Depot bus, but my camera died. It was a bus that had JACKIE GLEASON DEPOT on the front. Click "Yes" if you find this description redundant.

All in all, it was successful. I ate BBQ and Blue Marble ice cream, Laurel had some tasty pizza, and Adam found the perfect desk chair at an antique shop.

Timely Manner = Two Years

so i applied for a job at the metropolitan museum of art 2 years ago, and JUST got this email.

way to be, mma. way to be.

Anti-Stress Videos

They're all a bit old; some recently discovered and others I revert back to on occassion.

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Mayer Hawthorne - Just Ain't Gonna Work Out from Stones Throw on Vimeo.

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Love in Old Age

From One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez:

Aureliano Segundo thought without saying so that the evil was not in the world but in some hidden place in the mysterious heart of Petra Cotes, where something had happened during the deluge that had turned the animals sterile and made money scarce. Intrigued by the enigma, he dug so deeply into her sentiments that in search of interest he found love, because by trying to make her love him he ended up falling in love with her. Petra Cotes, for her part, loved him more and more as she felt his love increasing, and that was how in the ripeness of autumn she began to believe once more in the youthful superstition that poverty was the servitude of love. Both looked back then on the wild revelry, the gaudy wealth, and the unbridled fornication as an annoyance and they lamented that it had cost them so much of their lives to find the paradise of shared solitude. Madly in love after so many years of sterile complicity, they enjoyed the miracle of loving each other as much at the table as in bed, and they grew to be so happy that even when they were two worn-out old people they kept on blooming like little children and playing together like dogs.

yummy quiche

I made this delicious quiche Sunday for our Sunday Supper Club. That's right, we have a Sunday Supper Club. If anyone wants to join, let me know. It doesn't mean you'll get to, but you can let me know that you want to. BAHAHA.

Word Searches

This morning on the subway, I saw a guy doing a word search that looked like this:
Obviously, he doesn't know the "rules" of crossword puzzles. However, I must now give him credit because that was really hard for me to imitate, because I kept just finding the words spelled out as they're supposed to be: vertically, horizontally, and diagonally. Maybe he's a genius and was so bored with the way normal word searches are, he decided to challenge himself.

Or maybe not.

Race for the Cure in Central Park

We did it! Laurel ran, and I walked.

Radio Silence

I don’t listen to the radio.

In fact, I would assume that a majority of Americans no longer listen to the radio, perhaps with the exception of NPR.

However, I say this living in a city that isn’t quite radio friendly. In New York, it’s not like you can carry around a radio with you while riding the subway. Or at least, I assume that the radio waves can’t make down there, considering cell phones can’t.

You can listen to the radio on a podcast, but even then it’s not quite the same. You can’t sift between stations when an ad comes on, and you can’t sing along – which might be the most important part.

When I come to LA, I always forget to bring either an iPod adapter (which I don’t even own, so it’s not that much of a surprise that I would forget it) or some CDs to listen to in the rental car.

This trip I DID bring a CD that I had just purchased at brunch the other day – a NYC band called “Baby Soda” who I simply loved. However, when our car broke down I completely forgot to retrieve the CD and must now call tomorrow to see if they found it. I’ll be quite sad to lose it, and I hadn’t added it to my multiple devices yet.

Either way, LA usually means a lot of listening to terrible radio stations. Honestly, trying to find a radio station you can relate to is like finding a significant other.

You surf through the channels over and over and once you land on one that sounds familiar or interesting, you realize that it’s either just about to end as quickly as it started or it’s in a language you don’t recognize. Then it starts to get boring during the commercials so you give up and start surfing for more. If there was one song on the station that you enjoyed before the commercial break, you try to remember said station to try again later. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

For the most part, I end up turning the radio off for a while and leave myself with my own thoughts, much like my dating life.

But I like it that way.

Caffeine Overdrive

This is from a few trips ago to LA, but very much like the airplane ride I just took. Damn kids.

For my 8:30am flight from New York to Los Angeles, I came prepared to sleep. I was completely unprepared for the trip, and spent most of the night dreaming of things I forgot to do, only to wake up every 30 minutes and write them down. I know that I still didn’t do everything I was supposed to, mainly because I couldn’t read my dream filled handwriting. I’m still not exactly sure what “Take alligator repellent” means.

While waiting to board the plane, I saw one hindrance to my sleep plan: a 5-year-old boy holding a Grande Mocha Frappucino with whip. As a longstanding customer of Starbucks, I know my frappucinos, so much so that anti-Starbucks militia would probably throw cheaper coffee on my over-caffeinated body like I was wearing fur and they were carrying fake blood. And any idiot who has ever been to a Starbucks could safely this boy were going to stay awake for the duration of the 6 hour flight. Undoubtedly, the kid sat directly behind me and his mother and father, for some reason separated, sat all around me, so the kid was free to run back and forth in the aisles screaming about god knows what.

Strangely enough, this didn’t start happening until well into the flight, when I was dead asleep dreaming I was on a bus being taken to a Hertz station that looked like a federal penitentiary. And I had to wait there for my boss. For 6 hours.

Luckily, the screaming children and the annoying high schooler on her way to soccer camp, who kept elbowing me because she had obviously never flown in a plane in her whole entire life, woke me up.

That dream was awful and my body was definitely uncomfortable, and I still had another three hours of flight time. Additionally, now that the caffeine had kicked in, so had the boy’s ability to kick the back of my chair.

See, when I was little, I wasn’t allowed caffeine. I needed a lot of it when I landed in LA.

watch out for jaguars on 19th street

grandma got mad skating skillz

Want to play chicken?

Yesterday, Laurel and I woke up with the desire to venture to the park. However, the moment we stepped outside and looked up, we realized that at any point, the sky was going to break open. So we walked faster.

We finally reached the park and after scoring some tasty Mint Iced Tea sweetened with Maple Syrup, we stretched our blanket out on the ground. Laurel went for a run, and I settled in to listening to my iPod and writing/doodling. After listening to an entire album (The Juno Soundtrack), I glanced up. There was a little boy playing with a Nerf rocket launcher and he was shooting at two women walking by, and he was giggling ferociously. His balding, slightly heavy father was trying desperately to talk to said women, while juggling.

I laughed to myself and whipped out my magazine. It started to mist, but I figured if there was a heavy downpour, I would just meet Laurel under a tree or something. Then I realized something: Laurel wasn't back yet. She told me she was only going to run  a short run, and I've lived with her long enough to know that means 15-30 minutes tops. It had been at least an hour. I checked my phone and decided that if she was not back in another hour, I had to find a police officer. I put up all of my reading material and (probably looking either creepy or crazy), proceeded to scour the four corners surrounding my blanket. I did so for about 30-40 minutes, when she finally showed up, safe. She commented she got lost, and saw a side of the park she had never seen before and that we should go. Problem was, she hadn't the faintest idea where it was.

We decided to pack up camp and head back. We went to the new Beri Outlet to see if we wanted to purchase anything. After leaving empty handed, we decided to continue walking down Classon, so that we could see if Choice Atlantic was open, and that I could get some Iced Coffee and a snack. When we were walking, I saw a sign that said "Live Chickens." I immediately commented that if I looked in this open warehouse, I was going to be sick. But of course, curiosity took over, and I turned my head. There was a glass booth to the right of the building with a sign that said "CASH ONLY" and then to the left, there they were. Probably about 15 stacks of chicken coops, all ready for the taking. 

Choice Atlantic was, of course, closed, so I decided to venture into Michael Allen Desserts. Nice choice. We then got ready for the evening. We were going to Tiny's Giant Sandwich Shop and out for a while before a 9:40 showing of Moon. The food at Tiny's, yet again, was superb, but I was still starving. I had a Black and White cupcake from Sugar Sweet Sunshine and later ate a rice krispie treat. I'm always hungry.

Welcome to the Johnson's was (for once) not crowded, so we scored a couch seat and sat down. There was a man at the bar who Laurel and I decided was a daredevil. He had a neck brace and hand brace on. We were making comments about how to pick him up ("How much mobility do you get with that thing?" "Can I help you with physical therapy?") when the dude took off his neck brace and put it around his thigh. Immediately disinterested.

We then ventured to St. Jerome's, probably my favorite bar in the LES - at least when it's early. It's always really dark, and there is no real sign, but there is always something awesome playing on the projector, usually a rock documentary, or if they are playing a movie (they were playing "Ice Age" and then "Road House" one time), the music over it is damn good too. Either way, the bartender was a dude we met about 7 months ago...I think his name is Jeremy. He didn't remember us, of course. We were with a few people, and well, he has no real reason to. 

Finally we got to our final destination: Seeing Moon at Landmark Sunshine. I was extremely excited to see this movie. I had attempted the night before, but it was sold out. However, this time, we had a our tickets in hand. The nice attendant ripped my ticket, and I said "MOON!" and he said "You are beautiful." He had sight problems, and I wish I was kidding...but he did. While everyone waited in line to secure seats, I ventured up the the bathroom. There were two pint sized older ladies in front of me, talking about the movie they had just seen. A woman in front of them turned around and started commenting, and they proceeded to break down the entire movie. I still have no idea what movie they were talking about, but apparently it was "thought provoking", "beautiful" and "awe insipiring." I probably won't see it.

Moon is a pretty good sci-fi movie. The director, David Bowie's son, introduced it. I saw him standing outside the doors of the theatre before I went in, and he was talking about how nervous he was and thanking someone for having him. I was like "Thank you for having me to! It was my pleasure to pay $13. I'm nervous I'm broke." Luckily,  I said none of these things out loud, as I hadn't the slightest clue who he was and assumed he was just another theater goer like me.

Either way, if you have the desire to see Moon, follow through with it. It's a good movie, and Sam Rockwell is great in it. I don't like it when people give me premises of movies, so I'm just going to link the trailer. However, as a warning, the trailer gives a lot away. So, let me give you three seconds of a premise. A man has a 3-year contract to work by himself on the Moon. Stuff happens. 

After the movie, we ventured to Local 138. It's a good bar if you just want to relax and don't want to be hit on. That's exactly how I always feel. However, someone we were with wanted to have a little bit more fun, so we went to Arlene's Grocery. After dancing our way through the crowd, we spotted seats in the back. We sat down, and a dude came over to get his guitar. He made a comment that it was his date for the evening. I laughed. He then leaned over and told me that I "had the look." I couldn't quite make out everything he was saying, but at one point he shoved his ass in my face. I guess...he wanted me to smack it? Weird. Either way, he then told me I had the look a few more times, and started to walk away. I yelled, "Have fun with your girlfriend!" and he ran back to tell me he doesn't have one. I pointed to the guitar on his back. He said "Oh yeah, her. If I had a girlfriend she wouldn't be as pretty as you," and he bit his fingers and walked away. For the life of me, I still cannot figure out if he was making fun of me. He was a cute guy, albeit extremely weird.

Leaving Laurel and everyone to whatever they were going to do for the night, I checked out. After desperately seeking a cab, I decided I would just walk to the C. However, on the way, I spotted an open cab so I hopped in. The entire way home ($14.20), the cabbie told me about every experience he or his friends had with seeing people get hit by cars. Two girls were run over on Houston and 1st Ave. Two other girls on 46th St and 7th Ave were hit, one was fine, the other was propelled against a wall. An older couples limbs were ripped apart on 28th St and 9th Ave (which prompted a separate conversation about a gay club where there is oil wrestling and biker dudes. The guy seemed to know a LOT about this bar). During the trip, he turned left on red, and we almost got hit by a line of taxis, he slowed down in the middle of the street to show me a car that was totaled, and sped up through a yellow light yelling to me that it was illegal. When I got out of the car, he motioned for me to walk in front of his cab although the light for him was green. I smiled politely and walked behind him. I'm just glad he didn't put it in reverse.

i totes did.

F**king a Mermaid from Jennifer Holder on Vimeo.

CAT MAN

SPOTTED: Cat Man in Prospect Park.

he had a cat on a leash, which of course goes against all things cats stand for. and he was dumping water on its head, which of course, it was FLIPPING out, because it's a CAT. then he started brushing it. then to everyone's surprise, he pulls ANOTHER CAT out of that black bag on his shoulder. seriously, look at how he is holding that bag, would you have thought a cat was in it? he was dumping water on it, while the other one was trying to get away. as far as we could tell, he was trying to sell the cats, but no one was buying. then when the cat on the leash wouldn't walk with him, he picked it up and carried it, cooing to it saying 'when we get home, we're going to watch spongebob.' so if you want a cat to dump water on, throw in a bag and watch spongebob with, give this dude a call at 718-CAT-MAN1.

BONER PARTY

SPOTTED: Banana hammock g-string in Brooklyn Bridge Park

he was applying lotion so that he tans evenly. Wish I had gotten him bent over applying lotion under his g-string. Walker was embarrassed, and tried to be incognito by putting Laurel's hat and my sunglasses on. It kind of just makes him look like a douchey hipster, I mean, awesome.

hope this letter finds you well

Dear R Train,

I'm sorry, but it's over.

After a year and a half of back and forths, wobbly roads, and a lot of impatient waiting, I am moving on. And I want you to know that the C and I are starting to see each other.

Don't get me wrong, I've enjoyed our time together. You're clean, reliable, and relatively good looking, but the C is just closer to my new house and work, and therefore more convenient. I know it's shorter, but sometimes a little less isn't so bad, and so far the C always crowds me, but sometimes I need that in life. You never seemed to care as much. You always came too quickly before I could get downstairs, at least the C will wait for me to get there first.

Also, I wanted you to know that sometimes on late nights... I, well....frankly, I cheated on you with the E. I don't know what it was... I know the E is ugly, really slow, and very seldom reliable, but you weren't around at night when I needed something there for me to help me get home safely. As for the other trains, we're all just friends, despite what the V has been telling you.

You've been good to me, and I appreciate it. I can't say I won't miss you, and I promise I'll visit sometimes. I'll stop by and say Hi if I need to go to SoHo or the Flatiron Building, but I can always take the W if it's too awkward.

I will always hold a special place in my heart for you. You introduced me to this city, and hell, if it doesn't work out with the C, maybe I'll be back for you.

Love,
Jennifer