Thinner than water?

One of the things that's shocked me has been how well Ross is getting along with my family. Since I really only see my extended family every four years or so, it's kinda a given that they'd treat me like a king. Ross has been getting the same treatment. But ionly took my grandfather a week to scare him. After a few too many Royal Challenges, he started challenging Ross on when he'd called his parents last. When Ross said he'd e-mailed them, Grandpa exploded that "voice and e-mail are not the same thing!" Then he made Ross dial them up in front of him.

"I am a father too, you see."
"I know, I uh, know your grandson quite well."

Don't believe the hype. Cleanliness is not next to Godliness.

I'd been putting off writing about this for some time, but since I'm pretty miserable with a stomach flu, Ross is gone, and there's nothing else to do, I guess it's time to write about Salim Chisti and Fatepur Sikri.

Do not believe what the Wikipedia article tells you. These are the worst places on earth.

Because being maintained by the Indian tourism board guarantees a certain minimum level of cleanliness and comfort, we'd been mostly insulated from the worst India had to offer. Unfortunately, these areas were maintained by a religious organization. Consequently, there was cow dung, beggars, peddlers, and filth absolutely everywhere. Ross and I spent the entire goddamn time being terrified.

The Sheikh Salim was supposed to be one of the first advocates of secularism in India, making his memorial's takeover all the more ironic.

We were all a little down after the Salim Chisti debacle, so the rest of the ride passed in mostly silence, except for when my mom's glasses were broken by our collision with a large rock.

Picture Post

And now, in a stunning turn of events, some pictures, because I actually have some time to kill.

From Ross and Pranks in India

Ross looks on while Dad raids the Duty Free Shop minutes after arriving in Delhi.

From Ross and Pranks in India

A toast in my Uncle's house.

From Ross and Pranks in India

We are going to order this eventually. I don't care what Ross says.

From Ross and Pranks in India

"We'll have to make a life here."

From Ross and Pranks in India

Our supposedly government-approved tourguide, who is unabashedly explaining that everything is the Muslims' fault.

From Ross and Pranks in India

White people spotted!

From Ross and Pranks in India

Very 'Zelda.'

From Ross and Pranks in India

The horse ride to the Taj Mahal.

From Ross and Pranks in India

Evening, Taj!

From Ross and Pranks in India

Hey, fancy guy!

From Ross and Pranks in India

The most dangerous game.

From Ross and Pranks in India

Aww.

From Ross and Pranks in India

International Relations.

From Ross and Pranks in India

The Red Fort.

From Ross and Pranks in India

Inside the Red Fort.

From Ross and Pranks in India

Stork Patrol.

Agra 2

In real time, Ross and I are in Kolkata. He only has three days left here, and I only have eight. On the plane, I annoyed Ross by singing my own version of "The 12 days of Christmas:

"On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:
FIVE GOLDEN RINGS!

Five golden rings, five golden rings, five golden rings,
and Fiiiiiive goooooollllden riiiiings."

I told him it was Sonic's version. He retaliated by reading me his book about the atmospere of Venus. It seemed boring, even for him.

In blog time, it's still two weeks ago in Agra.

When last we left out heroes, they were planning to see the Taj Mahal at sunrise. Somehow, this plan actually happened, and our friendly tourguide met us outside our hotel at 6:15 sharp. Mom and Dad took a rickshaw, so Ross and I navigated a treacherous field of lepers, cow dung, and peddlers all by ourselves.

"We are lost," said Ross after some time.

I agreed. "We'll have to make a life here."

From then on, whenever we'd been momentarily left alone and were sure we'd be stuck in India forever, that was all we'd say. Some of the places we'd be forced to "make a life" at included Rajasthan, the Thar Desert, and a Delhi shopping complex.

We somehow made it to the Taj Mahal. Our guide kept stopping at every pool of water, exclaiming "Friend! Friend! Take picture of reflection!" (He pronounced it refleckson.)

The Taj Mahal's color changes distracted me so much that I almost missed the troop of monkeys stalking tourists. Although I was pleased to finally get some monkey pictures, the story about the unfortunate Indian mayor they murdered kept coming to mind. The animals' hissing didn't help. Ultimately, some unspeakable monkey acts were accidentally witnessed, leading my father to compare them unfavorably to the famously sex-crazed Shah Jahan.

--

It is understandable that Indians would take an interest in Ross. He kind of stands out. But perversely, they seemed to be even more interested in his hat. Once, a strange man grinned broadly at Ross and said, hilariously, "Fancy guy, fancy guy! This is a fancy guy!" to no one in particular. Ross was nonplussed.

At the Taj Mahal, some idiot tourists approached Ross and asked to borrow his hat to take a photo. For the second time in two days, he was thoroughly shaken. Ross, whose politesse is usually more than enough for any situation, had no idea what to say. Thankfully, my mother was there to give them hell.

"Why didn't you just say 'no'?" I demanded.

"I...I didn't know..." he trailed off miserably, and I felt kind of ashamed for asking him.

He seemed to cheer up when he saw a flock of parrots and pigeons feeding on our way out of the monument.

Our next stop was the Lal Killah, or Red Fort, an amazing city-fortification made of red sandstone. We hadn't spent an hour there before some asshole family man who clearly should have known better asked Ross for his hat. My mother and I both said "Absolutely not," and Ross, who had hesitated, looked sheepish.

"You are a full-time job," was all I said.

Later, my guard slipped and some idiot tourists had gotten him alone and snapped a photo or two. I think he secretly enjoyed the attention.

--

Our next stop, if you can believe it, was McDonald's. Not wanting to miss the chance to snap some pictures of Ross in his least-favorite habitat, I was pleased as punch. Indian McDonald's is interesting, and not entirely bad. I will say that the models in their ads are ugly, horrible people who will probably die alone unless someone takes the initiative and rids the world of their blight through homicide. Their strange "Maharaja Mac" burger started Dad on an obnoxious royalty kick wherein he started to behave as though he were the Maharaja. Unfortunately, since he was American, most people treated him that way.

Do not quit while you're behind

oh god oh god so behind on blogging.

Ross is a stupidface, but I think my family likes him more than me. We went shopping today; it's our last day in Delhi.

Still to blog:

Agra -- Day 2
Train to Jaisalmer
Jaisalmer / Mirvana Nature Resort
Camel Riding
The Golden Fortress
Jaipur / The Ancient Observatory
Delhi and the Shopping

On to Kolkata tomorrow; hopefully I'll be able to catch up and upload all of the pictures from my camera. Not optimisic, though. Five hour flight.

Agra

Ross and I are finally back from our weeklong whirlwind tour of Agra, Jaisalmer, and Jaipur. I'll start with Agra.

The trip to Agra was mostly uneventful until our first encounters with India's silent killer - monkeys. I was excited to discover a monkey trainer next to our traffic-besotted vehicle. Mom told me not to take a picture, as the man would then demand payment and it'd be a bad scene. As I ignored it, the monkey's chattering and posing became more and more belligerent. "Go ahead, don't take a picture," it seemed to say, "you foreign devils will still pay in the end."

Although we avoided monkey business, more vendors mobbed the car. Ross was visibly shaken.

We arrived in Agra two hours before the Taj closed to visitors. A horseback carriage ride gave us our first view of drastic urban poverty -- we'd been mostly insulated in progressive Delhi. A man inflicted himself on us, demanding that we hire him as our tourguide. He proved invaluable.

The eastern gate of the Taj Mahal introduced us to another stable of Indian tourism -- countless would-be peddlers, mostly photographers and post card sellers.

Luckily, our guide shielded us from most of them. When we thanked him, he merely replied "Is my job, sirs."

The Taj itself is, well, 'indescribable' might be trite, but it's much safer to leave it at that than attempt to describe it.

Entering the Taj gave us another first -- the necessity of shoe removal. Most monuments or holy sites require it. I've resolved to rethink my shoe stance regarding the Ranch.

Ross didn't have to take off his shoes. You see, foreigners are charged extra to visit Indian monuments, a phenomenon I dimly recalled but one that didn't arouse my ire until it was (unfairly, imho) applied to Ross alone. My family had been doing its best to make Ross feel wlecome, and the fucking Indian government was doing the opposite. Along with Ross' 'foreigner' ticket and my attempts to hide my shame and rage at my ex-country's backwardsness came some plastic shoe covers for Ross.

As I know better than anyone, Ross is the stoic type, and if he felt any embarassment, it wasn't outwardly evident.

My mother is not the stoic type. Inside the Mahal, a large sign clearly prohibited photography, but violations were rampant. My mother screamed "CAN'T. YOU. READ?" at an ugly red-haired Indian who should have known better, interrupting and beflustering our guide.

"People like them are ruining out country," was all she said by means of explanation.

As we returned to our hotel, we were unable to avoid accostment by urchins. We rolled up our windows on the advice of our guide, but they were hard to ignore.

Our first-world guilt was forgotten when Dad announced a beer expedition. We came back with an armful of Indian brands -- Kingfisher, Royal Challenge, and (unfortunately) Hayward 5000. We made the mistake of trying the Hayward 5000 first. Its power level was decidedly under 5000.

The Royal Challenge was less challenging. While all of this imbibing was going on, Ross indulged in a new favorite pastime - forcing me to watch Indian 'talent' competitions. The one he'd picked this time was particularly vile. Children were performing Bollywood routines.

"No offense, Dad," I said, "but your culture has been huffing paint for like, the last twenty years." He endured this provocation without comment until a singularly obnoxious routine began, which consistented of two small children singing "I love you" in all of the Indian languages. Dad told us that my mom had once had three-year-old Pranks perform this with the neighbor's daughter at a talent show.

Ross and I were stunned.

"Oh yes," he said, happily, "we have it on tape."

Delhi, Day 2

We were able to visit four places before our handy-dandy Jet Lag Timer started to screw us.

We got in about fifteen minutes of Indian tv, which was enough. There was an astounding commercial where an incredibly obese man kept on dropping and catching various things until he was defeated by a mosquito. Then his unrealistically attractive wife sprayed "OFF" on him.

This was during "India's Got Talent."

We had a breakfast of Aloo Paratha, chicken sausages, and a potato curry. (I'm getting Mom to remember the names of the foods we eat for William's sake.)

After breakfast, we went to get our money transfered at a kind of seedy money changing station. Small businesses in India are kind of like apartment complexes. Ross picked up a piece of litter and looked for a trash can, and I was horrified.

"YOU NEVER PICK THINGS UP OFF THE GROUND," I shouted.

"But it was dirty. I wanted to throw it away." (Ross must have missed all of the other pieces of trash around. Thankfully.)

"Yes, it was very dirty. So don't touch it."

Ross looked sheepish. "It wasn't THAT dirty..."

"Ross," I said, mostly serious, "there are places where you can get a disease by squatting near the ground."

Ross looked at me for a second, then began to slowly lower himself defiantly. I told him it was his funeral. My nine-year-old cousin heard every word of this conversation but understood very little of it.

--

The first place we went was called Qutab Minar. It's basically a giant minaret constructed by some Muslim ruler. Or so the MAN wants you to think.

Our government appointed tourguide had an agenda. A hilarious one. He basically tried to convince us that all of the (ostensibly) Muslim architecture around us had actually been constructed by Hindhus. The main piece of evidence for this was the lotus imagery, which apparently doesn't occur in Muslim architecture. He told us the Muslim-capitulating governmetn was trying to sweep all of this under the rug, and that "Delhi" was a Sanskrit word for "attacked by Muslims." I looked at my grandfather after this, who had turned off his hearing aid and was staring off into space.

The Qutab Minar complex looked very Arbiter's Grounds. I was delighted.

Next, it was off to a Baha'i temple that was in the shape of a lotus. Ross told me that the Hindhus clearly constructed this as well.

--

One of the coolest things we saw was Humayan's Tomb. Humayan was some rajah who died after his daily prayer by falling down some stairs. Hilariously, his tomb contains incredibly steep inclines in it. Two pigeons flew into the tomb, and Ross was delighted.

In addition to the various ruins, I took a picture of every white person I saw there. Some people took pictures of Ross as well.

--

After Qutab Minar, it was time to go to the President's House. This house was built to entertain heads of state and is blah blah blah some boring stuff you can find out on Wikipedia. The best part of the tour was when my grandfather got belligerent and commented during the middle of the lecture on the state dining room, "Yes, indeed, one gets hungry. When the hell are they going to let us go?"

At this point, Ross, Dad, and I were all jet-lagged so we fell asleep on the way to the restaurant. We awoke to hands down the best food I have ever had in my entire life. And I HATE Indian food.

Today, we're going to see the Taj Mahal!

At the Deli...New Deli! India!

I am writing this with Ross' funky retro writing pencil. It is kept in a special, tiny case. His parents gave it to him, which makes complete sense.

We've learnt a lot so far. We learnt that gin and tonics are free, that my father has a pathological hatred for tempera paint, and even how to share.

Ross' headset doesn't work. I told him this is what Indians call "karma." He looked dour.

(Here Ross insisted I turn on my light. "You'll go blinder," he said.)

I am writing in my travel notebook because I have relinquished my working monitor for Ross, who is watching as many music videos as he can.

"Life is meaningless without a screen," Ross says happily, not even bothering to put on his headphones. The four gin and tonics we've had between the two of us have worn off.

I don't blame him for only watching music videos. There was a neat camera mounted at the front of the plane that doesn't really work anymore, and I already watched two (terrible) movies from their pitiful selection.

(There is a music video that takes place in a heart. GROSS.)

Last night, Ross' mother and stepfather treated us to a delicious dinner, and Ross' father did the same at a swanky brunch joint today.

Dad had similar plans when he met us at the airport, but there was nothing to eat at the terminal except soggy tuna fish sandwiches.

My father is currently displeased with my mother, who insisted he fill his suitcase with at least thirty pounds of gifts that can be bought in India.

His face fell when he saw the meagre food selection, and again at the Duty Free Store. He gave me a look when he saw me eyeing their scotch selection.

"There are deals in India," he whispered, "where you can buy three and get three free. That's three black label bottles for gifts, and one each for me, you, and Ross. Your mother need not find out."

"Dad," I said, "I couldn't turn 21 fast enough for you."

"Your mother doesn't drink. I've been waiting for 21 years."

--

Ross' mother is always interested to know what I plan on doing with my future, but this time she quizzed Ross as well.

"The thing is, Mother, none of us have any idea what we want to do..."

"Well, Pranks seems to have some idea..."

"Pranks is an exception," Ross said with some exasperation, and shot me a look that was equal parts pride and envy.

(This was before I explained that I was applying to jobs, not accepting them, and that I merely wanted to hear the inevitable rejections before I became a hobo.)

--

The emigration process was quick and easy, and way more efficient than American airports. Ross was excited when we were accosted by a street urchin on the way to my uncle's car, and again when we were nearly plowed into by a truck in horrible New Delhi traffic.

We were wined, dined, and put to sleep, but not before getting fitted for suits. Ross chose dark blue with pinstripes, and I chose more of a solid navy color.

Ross is astonishingly patient with my nine-year-old cousin. He played Uno with her, talked with her about New York, and generally spoke to her in an extremely warm and tolerant way. I am a little jealous. She calls him "Ross bhaiya", which is Hindhi for Brother Ross.

Ross is wearing sandals and socks. I took a picture of them surreptitiously.

Today, we're going to the President's house! Pictures to follow.

So, one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me:

Pelks, Ross, Bekah, and whoever else was with them at the Journey Concert called me and switched phones every five minutes so I could sing along.  Twenty minutes later, they're still going strong.

I love my friends.

I did it. The thing is done. It's shipping to Pelks' place.

*gulp*

Time to play the music? Time to light the lights?

That wasn't the last post. But now, I am asking you, my dear (mostly silent) readers for some help.

Those of you who know me somewhat well know there's only one dream-profession for me. ("Wealthy gaming czar crime-fighting playboy" does not count.) The answer is Muppeteer. The major problem, of course, being that I haven't real Muppets to play around with. Sure, I've made do with some cheap Sesame Replicas, but ain't nothing like the real thing.


Where do I get something like that? The company that made the standard "Henson fleece" has gone out of business, and Muppet makers are pretty tightlipped. Well, last spring, I found the answer.


To make a long story short, I immediately contacted Vault of Puppets and found out more. Turns out this Kermie retails for $1050. Quoth the frog, "Sheesh." That seemed to be the end of that. But after I wrote to the appropriately-named Steve, he said he took a liking to me and would cut the price down to $650, his "college student" price.

I sat on this for a while, for a variety of reasons including an expensive summer in New York, a meagre bank account, and the terrifying realization that my dream career might not be as long-shot as I thought. It's come back to haunt me now, and I'm in the final stages of making a decision.

What I need from you is this. Tell me: how close is this Kermit to the ur-Kermit that lives in your head? Be honest. I (and some of my friends) are gonna plunk down mad wads of green for this, so there's no point in being easy.

Here are some comparison photos:

Let me know, either in comments, emails, AIMs, or phone messages.

"Parting is lame as HELL."

To paraphrase the swan of Avon.

My extra day in the city was spent with Margot, Dan and Sonia. This of course culminated in a tipsy night watching "Look Around You" and various and sundry Daily Show / Muppets videos.

I am home again, for an agonizing two weeks before my final year at Chicago. Thanks for reading, guys!

Gonna Rock You Like a, Well...This is Embarrassing...

My train was canceled tomorrow due to a bad case of hurricane. This would irk me less if I hadn't done all of my packing before my parents gave me the news.

Today, my boss made another big to do about how great I was and threw me a pizza party. Then, after I argued Obama's merits extensively for about an hour with her, she presented me with a book.

Margot and I went to see Gypsy with Patti LuPone, which was brilliant blah blah OMG the actress playing Gypsy Rose Lee is my new crush and is beautiful.

The real highlight of the evening was dinner at Sardi's, which would have been fun enough, except a portrait of Kermit reminded me that I was having lunch at the same restaurant Kermit tried to sneak into in "The Muppets Take Manhattan." This catapulted the day into legendary status.

I saw this portrait in person:



I ended the day with more drinks at Dan and Sonia's which was a perfect cap to the evening. I didn't even flinch on the six-block solitary walk back to the apartment.

"Hello, we are 21. Would you like more proof?"

Sometimes, I am a little overzealous with my ID, and this makes 20-year-old Sonia concerned.

Dan and Sonia (of "Rome Trip" fame) came to visit me yesterday as a sort of last hurrah. Since I'd just seen Dave and Marlena the day before, I felt like quite the social butterfly.

We found a pretty swank frenchie place to eat. I knew it was swank because the mood lighting was so bad you couldn't read the menu without holding it directly up to the candle. This might have ended in hilaritragedy if the menus weren't laminated. I can only assume they learned from experience. Another notable thing about the place is that the men's room was wallpapered with softcore porn, and the women's room was wallpapered with pin-up girls.

Haha, I typed "pun-up girls." This sounds like the best idea ever. Jeeves, take a letter!

After getting cupcakes, we nabbed a six-pack from Duane Reed and wandered through Washington Square park looking for somewhere to drink it. Hilaritragedy finally struck.

A man dressed (to use the word loosely) in grey with pretty much stereotypical 30s hobo trappings (bindle, tattered hat) who would have been delightful if he hadn't actually interacted with us approached and began discharging gibberish and spittle. We eventually determined that he wanted a sip of our "fuggin' beer." Dan politely explained that it was our beer. Then he became belligerent, so Dan gave him one to avoid a scene. He eyed it suspiciously, then asked "S'at poison?" I explained that it was sealed, and that we were drinking the same beer, so it was unlikely at best.

He tottered off, and once the initial shock wore off I was actually kind of glad to have had a true New York experience on my penultimate night. Which isn't to say that the hobo was all that different from some people I know after a night of drinking, but something about his gait led me to believe that he had more than just Blue Moon in his system.

Upon his return, he asked us if we had any daughters who would be willing to engage in impolite actions with fifty-year-olds. When we said no, he spat at us, then was never heard from again.

Mama Ross

I had breakfast with Ross' mother today, who is the classiest lady I have ever met in my entire life. She asked me what I'd learned this summer, what I thought of UChicago, and how I lived my life in general, and I hope I accounted myself appropriately.

The Condé Nast cafeteria, designed by Gehry, has runway-style ramps, curvy walls, and tiny perforations everywhere so that one can hear one's eating company no matter how large the crowd. It's the coolest place I've ever eaten.

"How was it?"

"It was okay. Too much toilet humor."
"Well, you've seen it before."
"That's true. It just seemed like more of a mess this time."

Noel and I now have a running joke where we refer to going to the bathroom at a movie theater as seeing "Men's." Since we saw both "Tropic Thunder" and "The Dark Knight" (in IMAX) this weekend, we had plenty of opportunities to beat the joke to death.

When we last left our hero, he had just come back from "The Dark Knight" and excitedly noted the 68th and Broadway location of the theater.

I have now seen the following movies this summer:
Wall*E (dammit, where's the interpunct key?)
The Dark Knight
Journey to the Center of the Earth (stupid, stupid cousins)
The Dark Knight
Tropic Thunder
Tropic Thunder
Tropic Thunder
The Dark Knight (IMAX)

Well, at least I'm consistent.

Hanging out with Margot's 37-year-old boyfriend and his 36-year-old friend made me realize that I'm far more ready for the real world than I anticipated. If I'm capable of interacting with people who are twelve years younger than my parents (and charming the pants off them in the process), maybe the adult world isn't so scary. We did grown-up things like going to bars and complaining about the beer in a classy way. Trust me, it was totally in a classy way.

The taxi ride to the dessert place led to another revelation -- I can now visually recognize places in New York City, and navigate pretty flawlessly. As we passed by 64th and Park, I had a sudden flash of deja vu as I recalled blundering my way towards Marlena and the Central Park Zoo two weeks ago.

I guess what I'm saying is that to me, New York is no longer a Woody Allen or Noah Baumbach film; a collection of fuzzy "pop culture locations." New York is a place I've lived and (partially) understand. Grand Central isn't from "North by Northwest" or "Superman", it's the place I pass through on my way to work every day. The same goes for Times Square, the Village, Madison Square Garden, and a variety of other places. This was not a summer wasted.

68th and Broadway

step on it, sucker!

Today, our showing of The Dark Knight in IMAX was at the Lazy Sunday theater! Now my New York experience is truly complete.

One Week To Go

As of Friday, I had exactly seven days left in New York City. I was originally supposed to be home by now, but I asked my bosses (and Margot) for an extra week, since I'd missed so many days early on. I've had quite a summer, what with turning 21, the Olympics, the election, and a phenomenal job experience, not to mention being in the greatest city on the planet. Rome, Chicago, New York, Delhi, and Calcutta -- the greatest 18 months of my life.

The Imperfect Ganesha

Friday was a half day at work. Not even my boss showed up, so I spent the day researching Government Barbie (c). She comes as part of a special Oil and Gas Lobbyist series and is in near mint-condition -- she's only two years old, after all.

After Forgetting Sarah Palin, I spent the day moaning and groaning as the results of Andre's workout fully hit me. I hit Madison Square Garden to see a play with Ethan, who was nice enough to score free press pass tickets. Unfortunately, the play was not very good. I'll spare you my rant about Western writers using the stale trope of Exotic, Ethnic, Poor India as a mechanism for spoiled white people to "discover" themselves. What was truly notable was that the path the old Connecticut WASP-Ladies took was the same one Ross and I will be taking in December.

Then it was off to Dallas BBQ, a truly obnoxious "Texan" restaurant which is important for being where I began my 21st festivities. Several margaritas and long island iced teas later, I'm rambling to Grider in incoherent doublespeak.

Pseuper-Heroes and Pseudo-Fashion

I woke up today and announced "The eyes are bright! The tail is bushy!" Margot and Noel did not share my enthusiasm. I even threatened to go to the gym! After much complaint, we all managed to dress ourselves and leave the apartment for brunch. We went to this fancy bread place that Margot told me was Lisy's favorite, and I can see why. I got something with arugula because ARUGULA GODDAMMIT. Also, I am a secret muslim antichrist elitist.

Ria called on my way back, and insisted that we go see an exhibit called "Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy." Usually, Ria and I have very disparate tastes when it comes to cultural pursuits. This, however, is what is known as "compromise."

The exhibit was amazing. They actually brought up some very interesting points about the iconic nature of superhero costumes, and how some of them mirror fashion traditions. Also, IRON MAN SUIT and BATMAN SUIT DROOOOOOOOOL. They even had a gallery of original debut comics, like Amazing Fantasy 15 and Action Comics #1. Which is impressive, considering those comics are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. But it's the Met, so go figure.

Anyway, I'm sold on the Met. It can stay. The end.

"And all I could think is, who names their kid 'Barack Obama'?"

Clearly, Earth's yellow sun gives Obama superhuman powers he lacks on his home planet of Hawaii.

--

*UPDATE* Alaska Barbie for VEEP! WHOO WALNUUUUTS!

"Cool Batman shirt,"

said Andre, in a neutral tone.
"Yeah," I said, "I left the one that just says 'NERD' in big black letters at home."
Andre laughed a little, then looked confused. "Do you, um, have an actual shirt like that?"
"No."
"So that's just what you say when someone complements you on your shirt."
"Yeah."

The training is phenomenal. I've gone down from 16% to 12% body fat. Andre says my chest is in fact in better shape than his now. And I've just ordered the Batsuit; it'll be shipped to Ross' next week.

--

On the subway, I definitely got caught dancing and lip synching to Mika's "Lollipop." This was the second funniest thing I had seen in public today -- I was walking behind a lady today who inspired no less than seven male gawkers within the space of thirty seconds as she passed by. Construction workers, lawyers, and food stand people all could not resist.

Now SHUT UP INTERNET FRIENDS, it's OBAMA TIME.

Ted or Alive

Yesterday, my friend Ted visited us, albeit briefly. We had beer and watched the convention. We're so cool.

Ted left at 5 AM, and I was totally awake to see him go, but when it came time for me to re-awaken for work, my brain kept telling me "If you wake up now, you'll never win the soda-candy chugging contest. Keep your eyes closed!" Needless to say, I was half an hour late to work today.

--

Last night, in Dreamland, I met the actor who plays Jim Halpert and took him on a tour of my office. I spent the whole dream profoundly uncomfortable, almost sure that he'd find my existence mundane. But he was incredibly nice about it. Then we talked about positivism for a while.

It's a Christmas Miracle

EXT. GOTHAM CITY: THE JOKER is leaping over some snow-covered rooftops.

JOKER: Jingle Bells (gunshot) Batman smells, Robin, oh you know the rest. The important part being me getting away.

THE JOKER spots a dark shadow and pushes a Santa display, complete with reindeer onto it.

JOKER: Oh, Batsie, you sleigh me! Now, with any luck, it's time to return the favor!

--

Why would my subconscious go to such great lengths for a pun?

Your MOM'S Having Breakfast With Me

Ross' Mom invited me to breakfast with her at Conde Nast publishing. You know, where GQ, Vogue, and all those places are? I realize the situation sounds like a middle-school joke, but I'm really excited.

Yesterday, my boss was angry with me for not being born in the US. She wanted me to be President.

In other bizarre compliment news, Margot told me that I would definitely get married, as I would make a terrific father. As terrifying as the thought of tiny Prankses running amok is, the idea of me being married is even worse. Maybe I can skip a few steps? WEDLOCK BABY: TRANSFORM AND ROLL OUT. You heard it here first, folks.

--

Edit:

"Pranks, it's Thundercats: HOOO!"

roguetldr 3:05
"not from Juno"

arctica776@gmail.com 3:05
"Juno misquoted it and now everyone does."

roguetldr 3:06
"I know"

arctica776@gmail.com 3:06
">:|"

roguetldr 3:06
"but it referenced babies"

06:14
"so I figured..."

arctica776@gmail.com 3:06
">:|!"

roguetldr 3:06
"okay okay"

06:31
"I'll change it"

Margot at the apartment

Margot has moved in, which has increased the number of people in the apartment by 50% and the number of objects in it by 500%. We had a lovely day today; we went to the Nintendo Store (where I saw the voice of Mario and Luigi!) and Coney Island (where I ate an original Nathan's Dog) and finally to this wacky dinner place where I ate frozen hot chocolate.

I'm starting to get Chicago-sick now, so it's good that she's here. Having someone to show around will keep me from getting too bored.

I am vengeance. I am the night.

I am so excited.

Now the question is whether to go for large or medium. I wear medium t-shirts and I'm a 34 pants size. But I actually want to be able to move in this thing. Furthermore, ew, tights.

The things I do for Gotham.

The Audacity of Joke

Why can't I stop having dreams with Barack Obama in them? In the latest, his family and McCain's family were touring this gigantic tacky hall with paraphernalia pertaining to all fifty states. He said little to me, even when I was playing with his kids, until we both got to Maryland (the seventh state to ratify); and for some reason we bonded over making fun of it. Its motto was "Manly deeds, womanly words" and I teased him saying it might also apply to him. At first, he looked angry, but then he lightened up a little and started laughing.

My brain must have generated all that because I had looked up Delaware and Maryland on wiki after learning that Biden was the nominee.

--

In real world news, my apartment is still a mess, and I'm still sick with the disease commonly known as Ross' Plague.

"Oh, other Nintendo wallet,"

I said, mock-mournfully, "we had some good times, didn't we?" Then, I shook it onto the table violently and put all of its detritus into my shiny new Twilight Princess wallet.

During this weekend, Pelks would occasionally whip out a notebook after someone had said something particularly objectionable and/or memorable. "Captain's Log: 'Oh, other Nintendo wallet, we had some good times, didn't we?'"

For those of you not in the know (and if you weren't, shame on you!) some of my best friends (and the best friend of a best friend) drove fifteen hours from Chicago last weekend.

Bekah had shingles, Richard still thought he was in Paris, Olivia had gotten in from Japan the day before, and Ross and Pelks were the same collection of unique incompetencies I knew and loved.

All of this made for an EXCITING Road Trip, I'm sure. Last night, I watched them leave, and I was sadder than I'd been since I came to college.

--

Fem Force Five Minus Two Plus Two left at 7 AM on Saturday, then drove (stopping once) until they arrived at about 12. I was angry. I thought they'd be there at 10. I called Ross twice and yelled at him. Then, when he turned his phone off, I called a groggy and shingly Bekah, made her hand the phone to Ross and yelled at him again. Then Pelks yelled at me. I felt pretty good about how this was going, so I took a nap until they told me they were on the island.

Dave arrived, asking if I'd lost his residents. Well, I didn't. I found them a parking garage, then stood at the corner waving my arms maniacally like a tween at a Jonas Brothers concert until I saw their Escalade. Then, they pulled into the parking garage and severely tried my patience trying to find a parking spot. I nearly jumped the fence and told them off until Ross called me telling me they were waiting in front of my apartment.

Huh. Must have been standing at the wrong exit.

--

I hugged them all at least twice, (well, I hugged Shingles very carefully, but she looked incredibly codeinated and forlorn, so I put her on the bed and gave her Kermit. She said little until the next morning.) Neil and I had spent most of the day (when I wasn't sleeping in preparation or yelling at the Road Trippers to hurry up) scouring the entire apartment for any speck of dust or dirt. We actually bought new cleaning supplies for them. I scrubbed the entire bathroom, and Neil did the counter and the floor. Then we bought social lubricants, which immediately went into the crispifier.

Miraculously, there was actual partying, despite the commute. Less miraculously, all seven of us ended up staying in my tiny one-bedroom apartment. See, they had brought pillows in from the car and anything. And changed into pajamas (which they borrowed from me.) "That's cute," I thought, Bekah and Pelks are going to take the subway in their jammies. "What a unique and interesting idea!"

Then they uniquely and interestingly climbed into my bed, and Ross and Olivia followed suit. What followed was lots of kicking, pacing, and grumbling, but very little sleeping. Ross left us during one of my brief periods of sleep and went to have breakfast with his parents. For a second, I thought she had had enough of the kicking and Pelks had finally eaten him. "Captain's Log: Slimy, yet satisfying."

--

So, clearly, I woke us all up at 10, despite the fact that we went to bed at 4:30. After six people took showers, I took them to the painfully trendy coffee shop in Alphabet City (a neighborhood based on Sesame Street!) We only had to stop for coffee three more times the rest of the day.

I figured we'd better get the touring out of the way before Ross rejoined us, since, you know, he can barely stand us even when we're not being tourists in his city. So after a lunch, we all went to Times Square.

"This is Times Square," I told Olivia, "it's a big fuckin' deal. There's some big shit over there. Lots of signs." Despite how jaded I was, Bekah went to its center, put her hands up and stared happily in a way that put some Barack Obama into cynical heart.

A trip to the Toys'r'us was next on the list, and we spent an inappropriate amount of time there.

On the way to the Nintendo Store, I saw a man dressed as a giant, ersatz Elmo. After cleaning the urine off of my pant leg, I used Neil as a meatshield and dragged him until the abomination was out of eyesight.

First, I took the gang to the NBC Store, trying not to overstimulate Bekah and Pelks. They got impatient. Olivia insisted that we take a "Before" picture. We were too excited to take an "After" picture.

--

At the Nintendo Store, every corner was filled with wonder. Let me put it this way: I promised Bekah and Pelks a stuffed Kirby and/or Link, but they still left happy. We spent THREE hours there. To be fair, we had to wait for Dave (who we'd lost in Toys'r'us), Ross, and Marlena. Anyway, here are our purchases: Bekah and I exchanged Zelda wallets (which was good, as my old wallet was falling apart.) But that wasn't all. Pelks bought me a Bonsly. My Bonsly is crying. Why is it crying? "Because," said someone (Ross?), "you keep throwing it at people." I think it's for a different reason: "Bonsly also has a hole on its rear similar to the draining hole that a flowerpot has." It is one of the most horrifying things I have ever seen.



Bekah is the good twin, so she bought a Snorlax. I also received a Zelda belt buckle, which will hopefully unseat the Batman belt buckle. Fingers crossed. Pelks and I also bought power-up drinks, which is just Red Bull with a picture of Mario on the cover. I was pretty objectionable for the next three hours or so.

--

We sat down in central park for our typical inane conversation. The highlight of the trip was when we saw an inflatable Batman at a stall. Olivia, Pelks, and I started shrieking. Remembering that I hadn't delivered Pelks a plush Kirby, I bought her the Batman (who managed to look unruffled despite being stuffed into a plastic bag.)

For some reason, squirrels kept attacking Ross' friend Jake.

--

The rest of the evening was mostly a disaster until we all went to Karaoke, suitably liquored up. Karaoke was...pretty much what you'd expect. The only real surprises were Richard's moving rendition of "Alison," a horrifying version of "A Whole New World," and our accidental selection of a metal song.

Every song had a music video with it, and "A Whole New World" inexplicably featured a woman singing to herself with mountains in the background. The song also had all kinds of inexcusable changes and frills which made singing at chore and we gave up.

The true highlight was when we misunderstood the karaoke interface and Bekah and I ended up 'singing' some ridiculous metal song. We were pretty sloshed at this point, so we metal'd the Pokemon theme on the way back.

Oh, God, I'm a twenty-something. It just hit me.

Raindrops are falling on my head...

Today, for some reason, the torrential rain made my hair shaggy and my eyelashes stand on end. I looked like the love child of Tammy Faye Bakker and Chewbacca, raised by his uncle Poseidon.

Despite Weathorr's best efforts, I managed to get in some LSAT and gym time in. All of my birthday money is also still intact -- this is going to be quite a weekend.

--

Today, William introduced me to something that should have delighted me -- Kermit singing a High School Musical duet. Instead, I was confused, saddened, and chagrined by what the Muppets have stooped to. What the hell happened to Jason Segal's movie? Why not stick with those delightful YouTube clips and viral marketing schemes?

Haha, "Herpes Zoster"

Wow, it's been a busy week. What with working on the BA, the LSAT, the gym, and my imminent guests, I'm actually running out of time to do things. Also my job is really busy.

Big sister Bekah has shingles.

The Olympics, the media, and the election are all infuriating me right now.

Birthday 2: This time, it's parental.

My parents drove for an hour, distracting me by forcing me to explain why Barack Obama's lack of legislative experience is an asset and not a setback, until I realized they had taken me to the zoo.

Huh. I guess they really DO know me. Then they gave me lots of money for Saturday.

Oh god oh god oh god

it hurts

"I like you,

Pranks," said noted friend-of-Ross-and-Brawler-Fred. "Not as much as Ross likes you, but, you know, I'm comfortable with where we are in our relationship."

Last night, Ross' crew called me up as I was at the gym and informed that a local bar had 25-cent wings. I wasn't sure what this had to do with me, until they made it clear that I was to come with them. So, Ross' friends are awesome.

So awesome, in fact, that they are taking me out tonight as part of a wacky birthday barhopping session. I am unsure of the wisdom of this, as my robot brain is still shaking off the effects of last night.

Stella-fueled dreams included one in which William and I were taking a small child to Disney World. For whatever reason, Dixie was absolutely ga-ga about collecting autographs from all the mascots. He actually jumped off a roller coaster when he saw Goofy. "Goofy," he cried, as he fell, "I LOOOOOOOOOVE YOU."

--

Oh, man, my workplace ROCKS. They brought me a cake and made a huge fuss, and my boss even opened a bottle of wine with me. Um...is it bad if my drinking starts at 3:30 and continues until midnight?

They even told me not to come in tomorrow, but I'm saving my holidays for when I go home and when Ross & Co. visit.

What a Gas!

Today, my apartment tried to kill me.

In the shower, I was alarmed by a beeping noise. (Hey, that pun wasn't even on purpose.) After trekking downstairs, I was told that my carbon monoxide detector was merely out of batteries. I was still suspicious, so I took the full batteries out of my Wiimote and put them in the detector. Sure enough, the beeping continued.

I was beginning to feel uneasy. I went back downstairs and insisted on talking to the super. After much bantering with the desk clerk, who was still convinced I was making BIG STINKS for nothing, the super discovered that my treacherous, treacherous gas cooker had ill-intent. Instead of delicious food, it tried to serve me a hearty portion of INVISIBLE DEATH.

I was saved only by my Wii and my wits. Batman would be proud.

Addendum

Some of my dear readers felt that yesterday's escapade merited further explanation. I will do so quickly, as I have a tale of Death Defying Daring to get to.

1) No complaints from the downstairs neighbors so far. And who are you, pyrozpsfksdapf? Are you Ross or Bob?

2) Well, it's like this: I was on the phone, pacing, as is my wont, and suddenly the bathroom was covered in water. Police reports indicate "He should have turned the faucet off."

Who has two thumbs

and used them to accidentally flood his bathroom floor while trying to wash his socks?

...THIS GUY.

I had a plan. I had a plan, and it was a clever one. It costs me seven dollars to do my laundry each week. I am going home on Friday. If I dry clean two of my nice shirts, I can do my laundry at home. All I have to do is wash my socks in the sink.

Simple, right?

My bathroom was covered in an inch of water, and I was out of paper towels, so I rushed to K-Mart to buy some. When I came back the water was mysteriously gone.

I'm not going to ask any questions.

How to get, how to get to...

Apparently, one of the original names for Sesame Street was "123 Avenue B." I read this illuminating article on the architecture of Sesame Street and how it's influenced the author's view of space. A lot of what he says really resonates with me, too:

"Sesame Street was my first experience of a city. I had no idea where it was set when I was a kid, or even that it was in a city at all. I tended to imagine all settings as more or less equivalent to the small Midwestern city where I grew up...I didn't realize how centralized American culture is, how little of America Sesame Street depicts. I didn't realize my life was considered provincial."

The urban environment in my mind's eye is always going to start with a green lamppost and a street name on it. Behind it, there's a green door under the numbers "123" with a friendly stoop, wedged in between a trashcan and a giant bird's nest on one side and a car-less lot on the other.

I've spent almost a full calendar year in urban environments now, starting in Rome, pausing in Chicago, and ending up here in New York City. If I haven't quite gotten the hang of New York yet, it has much more to do with the major reason I enjoyed myself in Rome and Chicago -- the people around me. In Rome, I was constantly surrounded by my friends, and we had our own Sesame Stoop in the form of a terrace. In Chicago, well, Hitchcock is Hitchcock. I think that's the major reason I never really get homesick, even when I'm in a place vastly that's different from my roots. My home's really just an idea of how a community should interact.

"Whether or not I understood Sesame Street's setting, it stuck in my head as a model for how people should live: close to one another, in a place where neighbors knew, liked, and watched out for each other, where chance encounters were common and meaningful. And I've sought that out repeatedly in my adult life."

I've been getting a lot of questions recently about where I'm going to live once I graduate. I have no idea. But I know what kind of place I'm going to look for once I get there.

More discusstigation.

My addled dream-head coined a new word last night -- "discusstigation." I find it delightfully redundant. There was a lot going on in last night's REM cycles. First, I ended up at my old elementary school with a friend I hadn't seen in ages. I had to take the bus home from school for some unfathomable reason and somehow ended up on a swingset with a girl who gave me some short stories she'd written a few years ago.

Back in the real world, Murphy's Law reared its ugly head. I woke up and found out I had fifteen minutes to get to work on time. So, naturally, my MetroCard stopped working and the machine refused my credit card.

I don't know why, but I feel like today's gonna be a Boss battle with insecurities.

Brawl for one and one for brawl

Yesterday, I had big plans. I was gonna climb the Empire State Building. I was gonna go to the World Trade Center. I was gonna be somebody. I was gonna go to Staten Island.

Unfortunately, due to a combination of an ill-advised gym session in the wee hours of the morning, I only managed to go to the WTC. There was nothing there. Go figure.

I did manage to take a tour of lower Manhattan, passing through Tribeca, NoHo, and SoHo on my way up. I'm really starting to get a feel for the town.

Today, the rain foiled any plans I had of making a longer excursion. I made it twenty blocks before I was forced to duck into a B&N.

Then, I came home and got the shock of my life playing Brawl against Ross and Pelks. Pelks completely schooled us. It wasn't even close. At first I was really upset, but then I started to feel a certain kinship with Yoda.

Anyway, the next four days are going to be spent training brutally until our next rematch. The record cannot stand like this.

Livin' La Vida Local

I'm feeling finally settled in as a New Yorker. In a day defined by largesse, I loafed around the entire time at work today, spent far too much on meals, saw a Broadway show, and returned to an apartment flooded with electronix.

Due to a $700,000 check being misplaced, my boss overlooked the sixty or so grant recommendations I made and frantically began calling the agency that was assigned to deliver it. (I'd been working on my project most of the month.) As such, she told me to "surf the Internet and pretend you are gainfully employed. Here, copy this if you absolutely must."

Luckily, my DCAU collected comics series was done torrenting at that point.

After work, I called my Dad to wish him a happy birthday. Then I met Ria at this somewhat pricey place for Italian food before seeing [title of show].

So, I generally don't hold truck with PoMo bullshit, and especially not in my favorite medium, but for some reason the meta-elements really worked for me. The cast was just so goddamned earnest and charming and clever that they totally won me over. I wasn't really a part of the target audience for the show, not being 1) gay 2) obsessed with musicals or 3) a New Yorker. So it was kind of interesting. It was akin to me and Pelks talking Muppets in front of a captive audience for 90 minutes.

The two leads reminded me of my relationship with Ross, except for two differences: they were gay but unmarried to each other.

Afterwards, I came back to an apartment and noticed that Neil had delivered an extra futon, two tables, a toaster, several feet of extension cord and (wonderfully) a TV. I set up everything in five minutes, but kinda over did it. At one point, waiting for the Wii's wireless to connect, I had my computer playing music, the toaster going, the Wii, and my DS as I waited. I heart technology.

Then I played my first online Brawl match with my Wii against Adam and Becca, which was oodles of fun.

All in all, it was quite day.

Of Bats and Gorillas

A few months ago, Pelks gave William and I a shot at Splash!, which is a program wherein college students gain access to the minds of impressionable children.

Bad idea. Here are the courses we're teaching:


HIST 11000: The Dark Knight Abides

The World's Greatest Detective. The Dark Knight. The Caped Crusader. The latest "Batman" film cemented his place as the greatest hero in the history of comicdom, and he doesn't even have any powers. How has Batman evolved over the years? What makes Batman tick? How does he do the crazy things he does? This course will analyze Batman by studying his history, psychology, and crime-fighting methodology. Shark-repellent Bat-Spray not included.


BIOS 11000: History of Giant Apes Wearing Ties

"He's the leader of the bunch. You know him well." Donkey Kong was one of gaming's first icons. Starting with Donkey Kong in 1981, the well-dressed D.K. has swung, punched, and clapped his way into a variety of genres, including platforming, fighting, racing, and even rhythm games. Join us in this Kong quest as we examine the career of this amazing ape and the history of one of the world's most successful companies, Nintendo. Get N or get out!

Trainer Tips

Last night, Margot and Noel flew in on their way to Lisy's at midnight. This was kind of problematic, 'cause I had had my first trainer session at the gym. I made the mistake of telling Ash Ketchum that I'd need to be in a Batsuit by November. Since he saw "Dark Knight," he's clearly convinced I need to go back to Chicago in better shape than Christian Bale. He is going to destroy me.

Anyway, Margot, Noel and I wandered around the neighborhood before getting gyros and beer. I had to get up for work at 7:30, but that didn't stop me from staying up until 4 with them. Then I slept on Neil's cot.

If you truly wish to take the measure of a man, spend a night in his bed. I mean, what?

Comic Relief

Yesterday I arrived at the house of some family friend who'd known me quite a while. They first met me in 1992, when I was five and they were twenty-five. Now I'm almost as old as they were when they first met me. Talk about perspective.

They had guests over, and it had the potential to turn into one of those awful Indian gatherings where I just sit in the corner, but luckily there was an English lit. student from Binghamton who was just a year younger than me there. She and I talked Batman, Firefly, and comics in general, so it wasn't that bad an evening. She said she'd put me in touch with her NYU friends, who also like comics. And here I thought I wouldn't meet anyone new in the city.

Today I told the family about my four-day annual mother's day event. The father thought it was the greatest thing he'd ever heard of in his entire life. The seven-year-old wants to come for Scav this year. I was doing very well until I mentioned that I'd looked up which cities are on opposite sides of the globe (for the Earth sandwich) and the ten year old told her Dad that his "Nerd virus was spreading." I think my status as cool, older cousin is in jeopardy. Although I did take them to see "Journey to the Center of the Earth", so I think I get some points for that.

They're going to a gathering tonight which I'm not required to go to, so I am free to watch the Avatar finale in peace!

I heard the Batmobile lost its wheel. The Joker got away.

Batman dream last night: check. The highlight was when Batman burst into a bank the Joker was at, and the Joker said: "Batman, huh? Well, I'm robbin'."

Knight Time

As I told Anna, any use of your eyeballs not devoted to watching the Dark Knight is a waste of time.

The theater was filled with jokers who let not a single trailer go unmocked. It was kinda a poor man's MS3TK.

But when the film started, the house was silent.

I predicted the main plot twist, but I was terrified of who Chris Nolan was going to execute next.

Heath Ledger is terrifying. I found myself twitching on the subway ride home. Looks like Mark Hamill finally has competition.

All in all, it was the best superhero movie I've ever seen, and probably the best movie I've seen in the past three years.

Made in Manhattan

Neil and the furniture arrived almost simultaneously. Where once there was a bed and two chairs, now there are two futons, a table, two chairs, and a tv tray.

I not only joined a gym but began sessions with a personal trainer. I hurt all over, but at least between this, the lockpicking books, and the climbing classes, I'll be able to mete out my own brand of vigilante justice when I return to Chicago. The personal trainer thing got way cooler when I explained to Pelks that I now had an Ash to my Pikachu. (Perhaps "cooler" is the wrong word.)

Tomorrow, I am going to see the Dark Knight at midnight. Then, it's off to some the house of some relatives. Two years ago I was there (with Ross) and they crushed his fragile psyche by telling him 1) he was nerdy-looking, and 2) I looked too cool to be friends with him. Then they announced they were going to marry him regardless, and chased him around the room trying to kiss him. It was also my first viewing of High School Musical. (Perhaps this is why Ross hates kids.)

Overheard in NY

"God, look at that US Weekly. That face is terrifying. It just looks...unnatural."
"Yeah, they really did a good job with the Joker."
"Huh? Where's the Joker?"
"Bottom left corner. What were you talking about?"
"Picture of Mary-Kate getting out of rehab."

Animal Magnetism

We pick up with our hero's story at 9 AM, when Marlena calls him to remind him that today is Bronx Zoo day. Unfortunately, due to the diabolical machinations of his arch-nemesis, Rossitron, he went to bed at 5 AM the night before.

Luckily, the animals picked him right up. What can I say about the zoo that I haven't already said? It's a zoo! What could possibly go wrong? All the expected things happened, like Ross going apeshit over the camels and me going apeshit over, well, the apes.

My patronus is a spider monkey, you see. (I decided this long ago.)

Anyway, after the zoo, it was time to celebrate Ross' birthday in style. So clearly we spent it buying liquor, then watching Batman, Spider-Man, then Batman cartoons, stopping only for gyros in between.

Like I said, in style.

Marlena and her friend Ellen showed up after we were 90% through Mask of the Phantasm. This was after we called and mocked Bekah for having us as friends, having spent most of our weekend drinking alone and deconstructing "The Spectacular Spider-Man."

--


GUESSING GAME:

A set of flower-print Martha Stewart wine glasses, a can opener, a "Disney Princesses" addition workbook, a can opener, a bottle of wine, a bottle of bourbon, and a bottle of ginger ale.

This is the shopping list of:

a) A sad, forty-something single mother who is down on her luck
b) A gay couple celebrating the anniversary of their baby's adoption
c) What Ross and I came back with from K-Mart tonight

Pool, pool party...la la la la...

Friday (and today) was extremely eventful. Well, so eventful that I forgot to post.

I did a lot of running around at work on Friday, which was unfortunate, because my day hardly ended at five.

I was to stay at home until the Internet people arrived, which (unlike most apartment-related things so far) went off without a hitch.

Then, it was DS-time. I successfully navigated the incredibly dangerous Upper West Side to acquire my beautiful, jet-black new distraction device.

Its name is Wooster. (Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, for short.) It has Zelda, New Super Mario Bros., Mario 64 DS, Final Fantasy, and Picross with it. Maybe I can play it at the Office. Then my translation into Halpert will be complete!

So, anyway, after acquiring the DS, Ross called me and informed me about a pool party in Queens.

"Queens!" I said. "Party!" I am there like shareware.

The awkward thing is that I wasn't on the best of terms with this friend of Ross's. You see, two years before I was kinda with someone and he insulted her and it was a total shitshow with my southern gentility in the way. But now, we're not on speaking terms, so it's totally cool.

Anyway, I talked about Batman and suitably impressed him enough so it's all okay.

Know what the hilarious thing was? Ross told me not to bring my swimsuit, OR my DS. "They'll probably be done swimming. Plus, no one will play with you."

He was wrong on both counts. Luckily, I managed to borrow a suit from someone and get Fred's number to play DS later.

We took out our aggressions in a game of chicken. Ross and I formed a (not-quite) unstoppable team. After some board games, and more drinking, it was time to go to bed.

More than meets the i

Wow, so, Pixar managed to sneak a lot of Apple references into Wall-E. When Wall-E booted up and made my MacBook's noise, I nearly died laughing.

On a side note, Dreamworks, go home. Shrek is dreck. This planet belongs to Pixar.

Boredom rains supreme

The rain made my decision regarding weather or not to go out for me. Instead, there was West Wing and Gotham Knight.

Dilemma

Matt bailed on me today, so I've gotta find something to do with my evening. Let's see...we'll return to my handy-dandy list.

• See Shakespeare in Central Park.
Well, this one isn't gonna happen until July 22nd at the earliest.

• See a Broadway show.
Done.

• Hit the Bronx Zoo.
Happening on Saturday.

• Compare Toys’R’Us and FAO Schwartz.
Well, I have been to FAO Schwartz already...

• The United Nations (don’t go in, just walk by and smirk.)
Neil can actually get me in, so I may have to wait on that.

• Check in with Peter Parker at Forest Hills, Queens.
• Check out Sesame Street’s soundstage in Queens.
I wanna do these two with people.

• Be at a “Daily Show” taping.
Still waiting to hear back.

• See the site of the new Freedom Tower.
Meh.

• Catch a celebrity at Barnes & Noble.
Not really any celebrities I'm interested in.

• Nintendo World, duh.
I've been twice.

• Attempt the Museum of Natural History. Bonus points for making it past all the dead animals.
I probably need an adult with me.

• Bring Kermit to Madam Tussaud’s.
I'll wait until I get a camera.

• See Yankee Stadium before it gets unmade.
• Have a moral crisis about dropping things off the top of the Empire State Building.
I could do this when the others arrive.

• See the Staten Island Ferry / Statue of Liberty, then look for Magneto’s machine from X-Men.
I don't want to go South today, for some reason.

• Check out books for my B.A. at the New York Public Library.
Need a New York resident to go with me.

• Endure Rockefeller Center.
Done.

• See a concert (the Police?)
Oh! I should get tickets for that.


D'oh!

Ross Visits

Ross called me in the middle of lunch to tell me he'd meet me "some time after 7." There is a magical direction called "North." When I go that way from work, I can end up in either the World's Largest Barnes & Noble or Nintendo World. Today, I chose the former, and read comics until I got a call from Bert earlier than I expected.

I told him to meet me in the Nintendo Store, where I was doing research for the DS buying I planned next week. I had done some Craigslisting at work, but wasn't sure I wanted to spend 225 on a DS and several games. 180 seemed reasonable, though. I could've gotten a brand new DS for 130 at the Nintendo Store and gotten it engraved for an extra twenty bucks, but all of the engravings were pretty lame.

Ross found me playing Sonic at the virtual console. He was considerate enough not to hug me until after I put the controller down. This is what I like about Ross. We wandered around, and I showed him everything in the store and the various knickknacks Pelks and Bekah would go apeshit over, then we began a serious discussion of whether I should buy the stuffed Link. All indications were "later."

"Look, Ross," I said, pointing to my black striped shirt, dress pants, and shoes, "I'm blending in."
"I know," he said, with less condescension than I expected, "you look...chic."

Later, I realized I was better dressed than Ross at the time. "Enjoy it while you can," he said, but the important thing is that he did NOT deny it.

We watched a giant projected version of "The Man Who Came To Dinner" with Ross' friends, who were really fun to be around. At one point, after a long discussion of Batman R.I.P., Ross' friend Fred turned to me with widened eyes and said, "You just maxed out on nerd cred." He said it as though it were a major compliment.

After the movie, Ross invited his friends back to my apartment, which made me extremely happy. I was painfully aware there was very little furniture, but everyone seemed to have a great time -- especially after we began cooking tuna melts on my grill in the style of the movie Blues Brothers. I'm out one wire hanger, but up a pair of awesome tongs.

Oh, this is super important. ROSS KEPT A COFFEE BLOG AT ONE POINT IN HIS LIFE. He only updated it once, and it's somewhere on the Internet. Our mission is to find it. Thank you, loose tipsy tongues.

I showed Ross' friends Section 5 Babies, which was a huge hit. Some more Red Stripe later, it was time to go to bed. I made the mistake of telling Ross I had something to tell him before he got on the train, which resulted in him badgering me until we ended up wandering the neighborhood until 3. Which was why I didn't want to talk about it then. Nonetheless, it had strange effects:

"So what do you think I should do?"
"Ross, you askin' me for advice?"
"Well, yeah."
"Usually I just give it."
"I know. But I'm trying to take advice from people."
"Okay, well if you do this, you'll probably do the right thing. And you may even grow as a person."
"That makes a lot of sense."

Then Ross hugged me and got on the train.

Dry Another Day

It started off as a pretty good day. I was awakened by a phone call from Mom, who wanted to know if I had picked up Dad yet. I hadn't even picked up my pants yet. One of the good things about having your own apartment is that you always win pants chicken.

I was overjoyed to see Dad, having been without company for a whopping ten hours. He and I went on a shopping spree, filling my empty cupboards with all manner of foodstuffs. When the dust cleared, my fridge and cabinets were full to bursting.

(Still no sign of my prodigal roommate.)

The real story is my first laundry adventure, which was quite an ordeal. It involved making change at the unfriendly Mexican-run Italian place downstairs, then realizing the machine didn't accept quarters. Turns out you have to get a card, put money on it, then put the card in the machine. Conveniently enough, the machine only accepts shiny NEW ten dollar bills. Which I did not have.

So I snuck back into the Italian/Mexican place (painfully aware of the Chipotle bag I was clutching) and tried to use the ATM at breakneck speed.

In the course of the evening, I managed to spill my detergent all over my hands and emit a scream of frustration that for some reason came out "KHAAAAAAAN!" Luckily, no one was around. I also failed to understand the way the dryer worked, wasting two dollars giving some shmuck's load an extra drying.

I slunk back to my room to eat my burrito, which tasted funny. I panicked, thinking I hadn't cleaned off the detergent residue well enough.

"Is detergent residue poisonous? No, right? 'Cause if it was, then why would we wash our clothes in it? Maybe it's only poisonous if you don't dilute it with water first. I mean, human beings are 70% water, so that counts as dilution, probably. But wait, you're not supposed to eat soap, either. Shit! I could go blind!"

I told myself that being alone, neurotic, and New York was no excuse for Peter Parker-ing out. Besides, I see Ross tomorrow, so I should probably be able to survive until then. Now let's see if I can get them out of the dryer without any mishaps.

Surviving

"I haven't heard from you in a while, so I called to see if you are lonely / starving. Part of me hopes you are. But, um, it's a small part."

At the exact moment I got Pelks' message, I was in fact alone in my apartment and mildly hungry. Luckily, I had Marlena's fabulous brownies and baked goods and the prospect of a visit from my Dad tomorrow. So there!

The train back from Connecticut was uneventful, but I was shocked to find an empty apartment. I was expecting to find Neil, who had taken an earlier train, but instead both he and his suitcases were gone. I immediately concluded he was dead or had decided he hated me and moved out, a view that persisted until I went into the bathroom and saw that his toiletries were still there.

Being the World's Greatest Detective, I deduced that he had gone home to do laundry in anticipation of his week-long trip to Texas on Sunday. At least, I can only hope that's what it is.

I wandered around Greenwich Village for two hours before remembering my plans to eat something substantial. Unfortunately, I was distracted by a comic book store before I could decide where to fill up.

Psychology's a funny thing. Due to my years of video games, my survival instincts are a series of bars above my immediate field of vision. (Think Scott Pilgrim, for those of you in the know.) They (often) depict the ratios "FOOD: xx/20", "THIRST: yy/30", "BLADDER: zz/30", "COMPANIONSHIP" (1 - 5 hearts), and "STIMULATED" which is always Y/N.

"STIMULATED" and "COMPANIONSHIP" always win. This is why I returned with a small burger in a belly and DC: New Frontier Vol 2. instead of filling up more substantially.

Currently, I am sitting alone in my apartment eating brownies, reading my comic book, and playing with my AC unit using my way-past cool remote control. What more could I ask for?

He Represents the Lollipop Guild

Yesterday, I went to a party at a candy magnate's house. I got off the train and was picked up by Marlena, whose lovely and friendly family fed me until it was time for the party.

Didn't have a lot of details about it, other than it was supposed to be utterly ridiculous. Well, it was. After a panic attack about not having the correct clothing, Andrew Cuming was nice enough to drop me off an extra pair of pants. (He first insisted I wear combat pants, but I was sure enough that he was kidding.)

The house was ridiculous. After a fifteen minute GOLF CART ride from the outer gates to the inner household, the first thing we're greeted with is a white chocolate model of the White House that is labeled "Obama's future house."

There was a ridiculously expensive buffet and an open bar, so naturally there were hundreds of freeloaders. But what was really ridiculous was the fireworks. The guy spends more on his fireworks than the city of New York City does. And it showed. A live band played a series of pieces that were then coordinated to the music. It was rude. They started with the Olympic Theme, then played increasingly cheesy songs ranging from the Gandalf/Saruman battle in Lord of the Rings to "Proud to be an American."

"Blog on your blog that I say hi." Okay, Marlena.

Get "N" or get out

My mother is a ten-year-old. I began a sentence with "Today, at MyBO" (referencing the Barack Obama customizable website) and she was unable to take me seriously for the rest of the meal.

Nonetheless, I will really miss her tomorrow. My parents and I have grown really close since college began. Today, we went to the NBC store, the Nintendo Store, the Apple Store, and Central Park. She bought me a "Dunder-Mifflin" shoulder bag and correctly identified a one-up mushroom. She also told me to save up money for a DS and to go buy that stuffed Link I was eyeing. She even remembered the sounds of Sonic the Hedgehog (played on Virtual Console.) Mom's pretty awesome.

Dad is getting here on Sunday, and he'll probably have wine in tow.

Tomorrow, after dropping off my mother at the train station (7:00 AM train) I'll be finally moving into my new apartment proper. Being with Mom was great, but AC and a working shower will be nice.

Bring me the finest bagels and muffins in all the land.

I saw Bradley Whitford on Broadway. I would have leapt off the stage and touched him, but there was a balcony in the way. Also Ma Paul wouldn't let me.

As a side note, Blogger does not know "leapt" is a word. HAY BLOGGER. FIX THAT.

If you're blue, and you don't know, where to go...

Manohman.

I am young, in New York City, have a totally sweet apartment, a not-soul-crushing job, and my BEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE WORLD is coming next week to celebrate his 21st.

If there's anyone more pleased with himself than me, he must not be aware of something horrible about his own situation.

You can't spell "apartment" without "mean"

I have an apartment...sort of. It's actually pretty sweet. Lots of open space, kick-ass AC, and a nice Belmont-esque location.

There are several caveats, however. Yesterday, my mother had to go let the Macy's people (who refused to deliver the bed at any time that was convenient for us) into the apartment. Or so we thought. Macy's assshole instead gets the key from the front desk and walks off with it. Which is problematic, because, you know, we have to move in, and thievery and such.

We get an extra key made, no problem. Then we find out they won't accept my mother's checks because my name isn't on the lease. (Even though Margot said she already talked to them.) So we'll see what wacky hi-jinx we have to go through to pay these people.

*Update* Everything is now fixed. Sigh.

--

On an unrelated note, the self-destructive part of me really wants some Drank.

OMG what if we gave Ross some Drank? Would he speed up? I must test this.

--

I MUST HAVE THESE.

P-A-R-T-Y?

My boss, upon finding out I was living in the Village, told me to party as much as I liked. Another office worker said "Party, just make sure you show up to work in the morning."

Speaking of parties, I have received more details on this weekend's bash. Marlena agreed to take me under her wing so I wouldn't have to go back to my apartment. Apparently the Bronx Zoo is a total mess the day after the 4th, so we may have to find something else to do. Marlena suggested another party at her friend's house.

"There's just one thing."
"What?"
"You know Enron?"
"Um, yes?"
"Well, my friend's dad like, fixed it."
"Okay?"
"So he's kinda, you know, and might try to kill you. But he's actually really nice."
"Okay."
"Anyway, her pool changes colors, so you should definitely come if you want."

Reckless Raptors or Built Ford Tough

Last night, I had two dreams, one about Harrison Ford, and one about raptors. Not bad for a Monday night. I was pleased that Harrison Ford told me that he'd never actually met that girl I dated. When reality conforms to my mental expectations, it's really much easier for everyone in general.

"Whatever you do, don't lose your cool," Mom said this morning. New Yorkers can smell fear.

Sometime between 11:15 and 1:15, those assholes at Macy's will deliver my bed. As I'm at work, Mom "volunteered" to let them into my new apartment. Then, after work, I'm supposed to move in. If all goes without a hitch, I should have something to sleep on Friday. If not, this weekend will be interesting.

A Me Goes In Brooklyn

Do not ever go to Brooklyn. And if you do, do not get lost.

Work went pretty well. The best part was the working Internet, I would have to say. Granting is actually much more interesting than I would've guessed.

Today at dinner, I overheard someone pronouncing "crepe" as "crap." New, shiny "New York Pranks" managed to avoid giggling.

I move in tomorrow...hopefully my bed will arrive safe and sound.

I am invited to this CAH-RAZY party this weekend, which I will be attending in lieu of going to the Macy's celebration. I have a grudge against Macy's now, and I hear those kind of events are total shitshows anyway. This guy is a friend of Andrew Cuming's, so wish me luck.

The plan is the Bronx Zoo with Marlena on Saturday, so hopefully I'll make it back from Connecticut in time.

Blending In

This morning, I took what can only be described as the worst shower I have ever taken in the United States. Not to be daunted, I put on my new New York wardrobe and hopped on the bus like a pro.

My goal was to blend in. With my hat, imitation-Ross shirt, and dapper New York ways, I have a better shot of blending in here than I do in Italy. (That may not be saying much.)

On the bus, I was extremely pleased with myself. “If only Mommy could see me now,” I thought in my Grover voice, which led to a mild snafu when I put my Metra card in the wrong way. This meant I had to work extra hard to maintain the illusion. I did my level best to look disinterested, even though an attractive woman, Toys’r’us, and a “Mamma Mia” ad were in close proximity.

For the easily stimulated, acting like a New Yorker is extra hard. Nonetheless, I gained bonus points when I jaywalked the SHIT out of 42nd. The absolute SHIT. Soon I’ll be glaring at tourists in no time!

I am currently sitting in a Starbucks trying to kill the half an hour before work begins. This Venti is intimidating.

A Nerd's NYC List

I have quite a program ahead of me.
• See Theater in the Park.
• See a Broadway show.
• Hit the Bronx Zoo.
• Compare Toys’r’us and FAO Schwartz.
• The United Nations (don’t go in, just walk by and smirk.)
• Check in with Peter Parker at Forest Hills, Queens.
• Check out Sesame Street’s soundstage in Queens.
• Be at a “Daily Show” taping.
• See the site of the new Freedom Tower.
• Catch a celebrity at Barnes & Noble.
• Nintendo World, duh.
• Attempt the Museum of Natural History. Bonus points for making it past all the dead animals.
• Bring Kermit to Madam Tussaud’s.
• See Yankee Stadium before it gets unmade.
• Have a moral crisis about dropping things off the top of the Empire State Building.
• See the Staten Island Ferry / Statue of Liberty, then look for Magneto’s machine from X-Men.
• Check out books for my B.A. at the New York Public Library.
• Endure Rockefeller Center.
• See a concert (the Police?)

With help from Justin:
• Make an important decision on one of those benches from Men in Black.
• Visit China Town and/or Little Italy.


First day of work tomorrow!

Revoltin' Developments

I have visited one less Nintendo Store than I planned today due to the stupid, stupid weather.

On the plus side, there is a comic book store across from my workplace. Hello, wasted lunch money.

The hip hooray and ballyhoo

Haha! I have made it to Ria's apartment, where I will stay until Margot ships my apartment here on Tuesday.

I am stealing internet from someone named Caroline. I am the cleverest boy.

Unfortunately, I am stuck inside because New Yuck is currently extremely gRoss. It's all rainy and junk. What's a guy to do?

The streets are paved with diamonds, and there's just so much to see

I am about to take my train into New York City. I can't help but think of the TMBG song. Will everyone truly be my friend in New York City? Or will I slowly gather neuroses and urinary tract infections until the UChicago cavalry arrives to save me?

It is said that "everything looks beautiful when you're young and pretty." Reminder to self: ask some old uggos their aesthetic opinion of the place.

I have big plans this week; I am going to go to the Nintendo World Store and the Bronx Zoo. The maternal ancestor will be with me for a day or two, so we'll probably end up going to some of the more conventional tourist spots as well.

What will become of me? Who will become of me? Tune in to find out.