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friday, june 28, 2002 i demand that everyone who is my friend enter this contest wherein the prize is a tour of the brooklyn brewery guided by bob pollard, followed by beers with the band before you head over to the show at irving plaza. me and nate farley, together at last! don't you want to make this happen? of course, if you win, you have to bring me as your guest. i'm trusting you here. seriously, everybody must enter. do it now! despite the fact that betsy and i were comparing notes on our initial impressions of "the instigator" this morning, i am going to withhold full scathing commentary for a little while. however, i will tell you that the word "pablum" comes to mind. aroused giraffe jumps off cliff after killing u.s. pastor in luxury hotel. you must click. [via the morning news] all of a sudden i keep seeing the words "avril lavigne" everywhere. bill werde tells me what her deal is. "I was actually staring at a middle-aged mom in a supermarket and thinking about how great it would be to take a 2-foot Samurai sword and lop her head off": a must-see drunken rant from cormi. now it is time for Funny Emails from Foreign People (oh come on). the following came with the subject line "funny web": hi catherin???
wednesday, june 26, 2002 is this the end of aliensocks? yahoo is telling me i'm wrong about my password, my birthday, and my zip code. i find this very, very frightening, not to mention inconvenient and frustrating. in the meantime, i guess i'll revert to the boring, for-resumes-only cmhopkinson. if you need to email me, use that one. also, if anyone else is having this problem, tell me. update: someone must've hacked into my account. if you get any weird emails from aliensocks, please disregard. in the meantime all the person has done is try to set up a marketplace account at amazon (?!). now i guess i need to change my password at, well, everywhere. aaahhhhhhh!! help, i feel like i'm living a sandra bullock movie! it is not pleasant.
tuesday, june 25, 2002 new york is the 30th-sweatiest city in the land. rollercoasters can make your eyes bleed?
that's busta rhymes up there on the central park summerstage, um, stage. he was the exciting special guest for the n.e.r.d. show, which was pretty fun and strangely uncrowded. with all the sitting (read: butt cleavage) going on, holly was provoked to make one of her trademark gut-busting assertions: "people need to keep their asses under control." i don't know, maybe it was the heinie talking, but i thought it was hilarious. holly had no such worries, as she wore her housecoat all weekend. tonight is the taste of times square eating-fest followed by "the man who knew too much" in bryant park. even though they didn't know how to act back then, it is always fun to prance about on blankets and drink wine in public with your friends. wednesday is clinic, firewater, and radio 4 on the hudson. and that is going to rock. yay summer. while i am on the PSA tip, everybody check out the schedule for celebrate brooklyn in prospect park. some good stuff there. oh, and thursday, starting at 8, is a gbv listening party at drinkland. hear the new album, enjoy $2 buds, chat up cute boys. ladies? books that will make you cool. [via whitney]
i decided to put up some more miami pics since i seem to have nothing to say today.
yep, it's like "where's waldo?" except it's "where's betsy?" let me tell you, picture-taking during rollerskating night at the roxy is not easy! i just could not get the shots i wanted. neither could i stand to be out there looking so amateur with all the hotshots flying around. it's not like the kendall park roller rink: everyone out there is dancing on skates. everyone is really, really good, and if they're not, no offense to the members of my party, they're not fooling anyone. i did five times around, once for each buck i ponied up for the skate rental, and sat down on the rinkside couch. it was great people-watching, the birthday girl did not stop smiling, and there were several fantastic crashes, so i guess it was a good night. you may also want to read about this guy trevor's experience there (i've been reading his diary for, like, ever). it's true; even i grabbed someone's ass. however, i got my comeuppance not soon after, as holly inexplicably gave me a wedgie upon our arrival home. very odd, all around. note: have decided i totally love text messaging. the other day i thought i had a secret admirer. so fun! kind of like the first time you used instant messenger. everybody, send me text! royalties on used cd's? bite me, music industry.tickets to the strokes/white stripes at irving plaza sold out in literally one second. how does that happen? whatever, i didn't want to go to that lame-ass show anyway. and twenty-five bucks. p-shaw, i say. i have some great fans. francisco works across the street with vanessa and has stated that he wants his band's name to be "catherine's pita." he's got an entertaining little blog. i agree, dude: never date a guy who likes creed. (certain other people might back us up on that. ahem.) and while i'm on the subject, this nyc photoblog called slower.net is really good, too. [via lightningfield] holly got very upset at this headline. it was rather amusing.
i'm back! did you miss me? holly and i had, if not tons, then acceptable amounts of fun in south beach. the weather was not exactly cooperating with us, but we laughed at the absurdly unfavorable forecasts and set out for the beach every day anyway. we did not go clubbing because we are not clubbing people. we are laying-around people. and so we laid around a lot. i also listened to a lot of swearing at motorists, read kissing in manhattan (great book), and helped holly through her heat-induced delirium. here is a little travel diary i kept every day on the hotel stationary for my our amusement (and now, yours). it's probably a bit too long for the pita, but maybe you'll read it anyway. wednesday: arrive at governor hotel, find it slightly dumpy, but stocked with delightful geckoes. take long, roundabout walk to ocean drive in sweltering heat. become obsessed with the term "face sweat." discover that south beach is about 50 percent pastel & neon cuteness, and 50 percent run-down ghetto beach town. get lunch at cardoza cafe as mist streams down onto the deck. return to dump, put on bathing suits, scamper downstairs, only to find it suddenly pouring. return to room, watch ananda show. walk the two blocks to deserted beach half-hour later, swim in beauteous green ocean as construction vehicles zoom up and down beach. get dressed, go out to eat at the tourist destination news cafe, watch hoochie parade. return to hotel and watch american idol, read lucky, go to bed. thursday: get up early. eat breakers at dump cafe, get to beach by like 10. enjoy intermittent sun while lying around and swimming in ocean. adjourn to holiday inn pool (which, unlike dump pool, has tiki bar) right on beach, order some cocktails, lay around. get lunch at dump cafe, take buds to dump pool, converse with german boy, get rained on, escape to room, watch the legend of billie jean. note: dump's water not working. take long naps. go to dinner at pelican, get hit on by waiter. learn there is no rock music available in south beach. hit up lola, well-designed lounge wherein we are served up free drinks and listen to creed on jukebox. holly throws on silly weezer song and immediately regrets it--crowd totally nu-metal. exceedingly hot owner strikes up conversation as we leave. may return solely to behold his hotness once again (only two blocks from dump, after all). home by 11:30. friday: now-familiar doddering old couple serves us blueberry pancakes and french toast in dump cafe. green ocean, topless fat ladies, etc. man shoots holly look when she yells down beach to inquire if i am peeing in ocean. adjourn to holiday inn pool, eat lunch, get drinks (one extra each!), lay around. then get hit by rain, nap, wander lincoln road pedestrian mall. dinner at nexxt cafe (best food of trip), beer at some irish dive. home by 11:30 again. saturday: up at the usual 8:30. verbally abuse holly until she rises. more french toast. tromp to beach--extremely windy. lay down towels, immediately feel rain. enter denial. watch cute russian boy with girlie legs. laugh at holly's troubles with umbrella. endure rain for while. finally get sick of rain, return reluctantly to dump and shower. take taxi to big pink, eat comfort food. head out into godforsaken rain, get very pissy. proceed to art deco museum, take in beatles exhibit. a rainy saturday afternoon, and we are the only people in there for over an hour. check email at cafe, buy pants at banana republic, see insomnia (good not great), eat dinner, go home (10:30). holly dismisses suggestion of following friendly russian boys to beach due to fear. she is a pussy. sunday: drag holly out of bed at 7 a.m., check out of dump, on beach by 9. glorious day. our only great weather the whole time. bliss. to pool around lunchtime. notice thighs go from white to pink at precisely 2:21 despite dutiful reapplication of spf 15. curse english heritage. later, get on hottest plane ever. who has ever heard of AC not working properly on an aircraft? pure hell. and that's the end, valiant reader. well in truth sunday's entry was just composed too, but i think you can handle a little blurring of the lines. in the cab on the way home we learned that saturday night in the east village, some psycho sprayed gasoline on patrons at a wine bar. crazy. oooh, and my cell phone is working! i must admit that last night i thoroughly enjoyed stalking the streets in my heels and oh-so-cosmopolitan cell phone. calling people. and, ha, trying to figure out how the hell to get into my voicemail. i just read this excellent, difficult-to-read account of the experiences of the people on the top floors of the WTC, assembled from emails, phone calls, and survivor accounts. physiological reactions guaranteed. maybe you just want some light reading today, though. "for some reason or other, you just can't keep these people out of the Benz dealer": fun story about recording artists' spending habits. with that, i am off to south beach for five glorious days. last night i cleaned up at macy's, picking up a half-price swimsuit, a half-price bandana-print beach bag, and a full-price stripey makeup bag. unfortunately the weather has changed since i last checked it, from "isolated t-storms" to simply "t-storms," with the occasional "scattered t-storms." that better be wrong, or i might be coming back with one dead holly.
and now (*drumroll please*), my favorite picture in recent memory:
and so eileen yet again proved her love for nyc by coming down to see ben kweller (thanks to pita reader sal for hooking us up with an extra ticket) at northsix. bk rocked most assuredly, despite his admission that he was a little "down" due to playing music every night. it was a fun time, and he even played "bk baby" at the request of an audience member (whom he called on). we were happy. we also experienced the first outdoor summer entertainment-event, a free concert yesterday at pier 54 featuring los amigos invisibles and some other latin artistes. there was lots of good people-watching, dancing, sun, and food. next up: june 26, with clinic, firewater, and radio 4. another major event of the weekend was the purchase of a 19-inch, one-year-old television for fifty bucks from a dude who posted on craigslist. holly and i got to see a lot of grand street yesterday morning, as said dude put 50 grand on his ad despite actually living at 504 grand. nice. anyway now holly won't be "lonely without the tv." (that is an actual quote by the way. heh.) in other news, i am finding it difficult to live without my cell phone and i don't even have it yet.
friday, june 7, 2002 unintentionally humorous essay from some dude who used to work for maxim. he quit because it lacked the high degree of journalistic integrity he was apparently expecting. "obvious editoral concessions to advertisers"? i'm shocked! [via cormi] i purchased a cell phone, lord help me. i should be "blowing up" in a week or two, or whenever amazon gets around to shipping my cute new motorola to me. yay me! what pixies song are you? [via the modern age]
i don't understand either of these two messages. but i still love stencil art. been busy staring at comparison charts of cell-phone plans for the last two days. that's right, i've decided to go mobile. the apocalypse must be coming. what do you think, this cute motorola flip-phone with at&t, or this somewhat less cute samsung with sprint? it's so hard. could i talk more about radio 4? why yes, in fact, i could.
this was the weekend justin moved out, off to london to help them with their urban planning. so we threw a party for him, gave him some gay books, and had brunch both days. the reason the room looks so smoky is because someone brought a fog machine. a freakin' fog machine, people. i was mortified. and i had a panic attack when "sweet caroline" was played too early and too loud. my heart began to race, faster and faster, and i could not concentrate on conversation until i turned it off: severely uncool music can wreak devastating effects upon a body. it was bad. but the roof was nice and cool, and the punch was really good, and everybody seemed to have a good time, despite the *disco lights* that were also in effect. if you missed it, we will be having a bigger and better party later in the summer to welcome our new roommate, who joins us in a couple of weeks. stay tuned. also, i'm starting to get used to weekends with eileen. after a lovely dinner at b3 (i just love friday night dinners in the east village), we went to the radio 4 show at brownies. we stood up front, right behind the gray-dreadlocked dude with the spandex pants and bare feet who was filming the proceedings. (he was weird.) we danced a lot and even did the hips-bumping thing. jami wonders whether they can last, but she's wrong. it's rock you can dance to! they are clearly going to rule the world! everybody say a hearty "happy anniversary" to pete and kelly bothum, all together now! two years and counting. they rock. here is a fun picture of the two of them in the limo on new year's eve:
and finally, holly and i booked our trip to south beach for next weekend. skin cancer, here we come! |
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