beast river!

Yesterday I was at the job that I wish wasn't mine, and if you think I was bored, then you would be right. Well, I brought my newfangled digi-cam (what that I done got from sinter cloose,) so that I might have some photos for my upcoming Times article entitled "Extra! Extra! Why Asians Love to Have Their Wedding Photographs Taken at a Dirty Pier in Brooklyn: An Exposé, Report."


On any given day, Asians (Above, Above-right) can be observed taking weird wedding photographs. [James Irving/The New York Times]

So I'm clickin and clackin, oblivious to the call of my car parkage duties, when what should the karmatic sea gods bestow upon my supple face but a poorly-mixed cocktail of diluted sewage, industrial chemicals, and death. It came at me in a tremendous spray like that from a dying whale's blowhole--the East River, with its infinite power, had displayed for me its infinite grossness.


Actual photograph of actual spray that actually hit me in the face region of my body. [James Irving/Idiots]

Then, of course, I had to park a car, and then some line cook or something was in the crapper for-freakin-ever, so I had to walk around with eau de NYC's toilette all over my face for like 20 minutes.

To relieve the suspense, I finally washed my face and gave it a little spray with the bathroom's lemon-scented Lysol, for good measure. Then I got back to what I really wanted to do, which was take pictures of kitty.

Me-OW! Kitty looking frisky on the driveway.[James Irving/Cat Fancy]

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remember that time when i hate people?

Someone stole my newspaper.

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ode to neil nice

Once upon a time, there lived across the hall from us a man named Neil. To his friends and DJ-promoters, he was Neil Nice.

Last month he left, and with him went an unpredictable dose of hilarity that our Hopkins Street apartment didn't know that it had until it was gone.

Sure, his six-foot tall stack of DJ magazines is still in the hall, and of course we'll have the memories, which include his biweekly pass-out in bed with his door open to the building's hallway, so all of the upstairs families that walked by had to see his naked backside until his 2pm wake-up; and his arguments concerning the band UB40 being dope beyond the popularity their hit single Red, Red Wine, (during which he would use Red, Red Wine as the example of this dopeness.)

And even after the magazines are drunkenly pushed down the stairs by me (hopefully this weekend,) and we can't quite remember who it was that stumbled into our room at 6AM, wearing only boxer-briefs and a fitted baseball hat, and asking if we've seen his Blackberry; we'll always have this video of him in a typical outfit, trying to kill a bee with a mop:

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