Monday, July 31, 2006

Fidel - is he dead yet?

Babalu is all over the Castro development. I do think people are acting prematurely with all of the celebrations going on in Miami's Calle ocho. Castro has the ability to bounce back like a fresh tennis ball. But I don't think Castro has ever given up his leadership in the past so this might be a bigger deal. Scratch that, I just heard on NPR that he's done this several times before, although not for as long as two months. Vamos a ver, as they say.


Why people like myspace

Best said by a commenter on White Dade

I harkens back to the days of high school where you would pass a note to a girl in math that read, "Can I see you naked?" and she would write back, "Die, douchbag." It just works better on MySpace for some reason.


Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Drink up, baby

This is old but Chuck Klosterman has a spot on list of five things no bar should have. I especially agree with numbers 1 and 3. After living in London, I fell deeply in love with the pub. I loved the dark wood and the tall, comfortable stools. I loved pulling pints of bitter from heavy brass fixtures. And I especially loved that you could talk other patrons without having to scream over the barmaid's obnoxious I Tunes selection. At the pub, there's always a good ol' fashioned juke box with some Dylan, Orbison, Beatles and Elvis.

I recently read an article which I can't find at the moment about a new trend in NY to bring babies and small children into bars, especially in areas like Park Slope where all of the 'hip' moms and dads live. I'm going to have to amend Chuck's list with a big fat number 6. Children do not belong in bars. Period. It used to be that once you had kids, your life was over as you knew it, as there was no more time for drinking and partying. It was now all about diapers, zoos and playdates. Nowadays it seems like young parents don't want to accept the fact that they can't squeeze in any fun time of their own, so they choose to bring their responsibilities out into the the unmarried and single crowd hang outs. I am openly against this. Bars are where people go to escape the idea of family life, commitment, and responsibility. I could care less about cabaret licenses. I'm not a huge dancer. I say let bars pay for children licenses.


Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Don't look back in anger (i heard you say)

It's been a while since I woke up from a deep sleep two days in a row feeling bitter, angry, frustrated, and upset, just to name a few fun adjectives. I woke up wishing I had slapped him in the face rather than pretend I wasn't that upset about the situation. I'm a fucking great actor when I want to be. Who me? Upset? Naaaah. You used me and threw me away like a bag of stinky trash, but why would I be angry?

He told me it wasn't like that at all, that he was in a confusing situation and wasn't sure what he wanted, that he's strong in every aspect of his life except when it comes to his ex-wife. I felt like I was in the midst of a fucking sappy telenovela. Him with his slow Spanish accent, and me, the heartbroken smiling American girl who can't communicate as well as he does and falls into his trap of lies.

Everyone warned me. I warned myself. But I told myself long ago that I wouldn't pass up a chance for love when my feelings are strong, because there are very few times in my life when I am undoubtedly drawn to someone. I don't believe in regrets, and to be sure I don't look back with any, I fall into situations head first knowing, most of the time, they are wrong for me. And this time was no different, it just hit me harder than most.


Tuesday, July 18, 2006


The Philharmonic concert in the park ended right on time, as the lightning filled the sky and hundreds of people ran for cover. It was a sight to be seen. New Yorkers, who are normally terrified by the slightest drizzle and instantly pull their handy dandy umbrellas out of the magic bag, were walking leisurely through three inch puddles and diagonal rainfall.

As I ran home in heels, I thought about who I had just bumped into. It was someone I didn't think I would see tonight, and yet I wasn't all that surprised that he was there. It's an awkward situation to be in, to sit two blankets away from someone you have been intimate with, and yet not be able to make any sort of move. No kiss on the cheek, no touch on the shoulder, no extra long mysterious gazes. I was on the coy side, subtly flirting with a guy next to me, but I couldn't help myself from gazing in his direction, seeing if he was flirting with anyone on his side of the blanket, watching his smile, his big blue eyes. It was a childish game. Way too childish for folks our age, but sometimes even the most juvenile of actions results in the most passionate reactions. I suppose.

I went home alone, despite his request to follow him. We talked on the phone briefly, both of us still soaking wet from the storm. I wanted to tell him what a crappy day I had, how I was worried about my mom's health, how I wanted to kiss him goodnight, how as much as I am attracted to him I'm not sure I fully trust him and therefore am reserved when I am with him, how I am so proud of myself from moving on from past loves and how I am ready to find someone completely right for me, how I'm afraid I am incapable of being alone. But how do you tell this to anyone? It seems to be so easy for some people, and yet it so easy for me to keep things tucked away in my head. Perhaps it's just a habit that needs to be broken? Or is it something that requires much more effort? Perhaps this is the first step?


Friday, July 14, 2006

Israel on my mind

Last night I found myself in an almost empty Jewish Museum on 5th avenue gazing at thousand year old menorahs, scrolls and, documents, what have you. It's really a wonderful permanent exhibit for those of you, like myself, who don't know crap about the history of Judaism. On the first floor was an exhibit dedicated to Eva Hesse who is a German Jewish immigrant in NY and persued her dream of becoming an artist. I wasn't really all that impressed by her sculptures made of cheese cloth and plaster which essentially looked like blow up egg cartons, but it was a nice contrast to all of the history I was focusing on upstairs. It was Thursday, which means there's usually live music and a festive atmosphere on the 2nd floor, but tonight it was a bit different. Due to a holiday, there was no music to be heard, and due to escalated violence in the Middle East, there were no happy faces to be found.

Earlier that day at work, I had spent the last few hours of the day frantically clicking on websites to get the latest news about the conflict in Israel. I listened to podcasts and tried to contact a friend living in Haifa. I felt anxious and upset and the more I read about it, the more anxious and upset I became. Luckily, I have a job where it's very possible to not talk to anyone the entire day, and this is precisely what I was hoping to do. After all, discussing middle east war and politics is a frustrating endeavor at my workplace. Either people have no idea what's going on in that area of the globe, think Israel is just as guilty as their Jew hating neighbors or just evade the topic and go on about how Bush is a cocksucker. However, I happen to run into a Canadian coworker as I was leaving and we briefly discussed the situation. After mentioning that his prime minister had some intelligent things to say about the situation, he responded by saying that Harper would be stupid to not side with Israel. After all, Jews control most of corporations in Canada. Wouldn't you support them? , he asked.

And so it goes, this is how some people justify supporting the Jews. I know there are people out there who are aware that Israel wants peace and that she can only be patient for so long when her neighbors are seeking to destroy her. When I hear support for Israel, I feel relieved that someone understands what this country is up against. But I fear too many people are supporting Israel for the wrong reasons.

I came home that night, talked to Petitedov, and instantly felt better to hear her voice and to bitch about the situation. I had just been seriously considering moving to Israel and now I have to rethink my entire plan. Ah well, I guess we just have to ride out the storm at this point.


Monday, July 10, 2006

Returning to regularly scheduled life

Boy am I glad this world cup tournament is over. Now I can actually get work done done during the day instead of running from my desk to the bar across the street, checking voice mail at halftime, and coming back to my desk only to be way too pumped to do anything. Frankly, it's been a big distraction and I am relieved to have my life back. But as were all of the world cups I've seen since I followed my first one while living in Spain when I was 16, I was addicted to the excitement, the nerves, the beautiful plays, goals and analyzing the different styles of each team.

As for the final, I didn't really have a favorite team, although since I despise Barthez I was glad to see him get tortured on those penalty kicks. All in all it was an exciting game which was a pleasant surprise for a World Cup final. And of course everyone is talking about Zidane's headbutt. After some discussion amongst my friends as to what could have upset Zidane so much, (did he insult his mom? his wife? give him a purple nurple?) it seems the latest rumor is the Italian defender Materazzi called Zidane a 'dirty terrorist', although he denies it.

I was quite disappointed in ZZ. Surely there is nasty name calling in every big game, and soccer is a mental sport almost as much as it is a physical one. I'm suprised a man with that much experience and talent would himself get that emotional at the most crucial time in the game. It's certainly not the first time it's happened (Beckham's red card in 1998, Rooney's kick to the groin against Portugal, to name a few). But regardless, Zidane will be remembered as one of the greatest players in the world. And there are fun computer games to play now! (Left click to head butt).

UPDATE: Apparently Zidane fell for the oldest trick in the book when he reacted violently to insults about his mother and sister from the Italian defense player, Materazzi. Somehow this whole thing seems very anti-climactic. I thought the insult would at least be creative. But your mom is a whore and her daughter is also whore? Like, who hasn't heard that a million times on the playground?