I'm not alone in my obsession...

Lesbian Pulp

I'm on Yelp!

Hilarious Sweetener on Yelp!

Pigeoned...

We've officially been pigeoned. Pigeoned? Yes, pigeoned. As one half of a good Elmhurst-dwelling lesbian couple, my girlfriend, has dutifully been trolling our fire escape window box in preparation for our sunflower/herb/catnip garden. This afternoon, to her dismay, a pigeon perched itself smack center in her beloved flower box. I would love to say that lesbian conqueored nature in this case, however it was not to be. Catnip will have to wait, at least for 18 or so days, for in front of my hysterical girlfriend yelling at the damn pigeon to get out of her flower bed, the pigeon looks me square in the face and lays a friggin' egg. Yes, an egg.

Great Gelato!!!

I am a firm believer in the majestic powers of chocolate. And when it comes in the form of creamy gelato in a little cup with a tiny spoon, those magical powers are even all more consuming. I like my gelato and I my chocolate, I just swoon over any establishment that offers me the choice of three different chocolates when I order, and this is exactly what you should expect at Grom (a gelato shop on the corner of Bleecker and Carmine in the West Village) - chocolate, dark chocolate or extra-dark chocolate.

when the pretty collegiate inquired to my taste I boldly went forward and chose the extra-dark chocolate and am glad I did. The picture taken on my phone does not do it justice. But take it from someone who knows their chocolate (and believe me I do), this gelato is a perfect balance of intense dark creamy frozen chocolatey goodness, minus the bitter aftertaste that so many dark chocolate bars tend to have. West Village story short, definitely a NYC food to eat and love.

Anyone know those shiny loafer shoes with the tassles? I want a pair. I think they're Autumn lesbian chic.

New York Exhaustion/Psychosis...

There are very few things in life that I love as much as writing. There are even fewer that are able to provide me with a solace when I feel as if I might go stark raving mad. This psychosis is a common effect on New Yorkers I believe. It's hard to live in a city of congestion, filth, murder and bitchiness without feeling as if your mind might implode at least once a week.

Most often, for myself, it is often akin to exhaustion, unfolding for me in a distinct set of stages: sleepiness, heaviness under the eyes accompanied by a loss of interest, followed by intense rage.

I write to ward of my desire to bark at customers at work when they asked what a novel is or if non-fiction means it's "not real". I write to prevent myself from falling asleep on the train. I write to prevent my coworkers from speaking to in the lunch room. I write because at times stringing words together often is the only way I can keep the little blue furry people quiet.. But if I didn't live in NYC, I probably would still write, even if the furry people took up house elsewhere.

New York City?!?!

You know the salsa commercial where the cowboy looks into the camera and exclaims in horror, NEW YORK CITY!? Whether you or don't, the point is that the cowboy is correct in his astonishment, who would ever really want to live in this city? The housing is overpriced, the food though yummy is overpriced, and every other possible thing that one might need to live is jacked up to the point where it might as well be lined with gold and sold in the suburbs. But then again, where else is there to live? Where else do people live? Yes, I've lived elsewhere but who would ever want to given the choice. Unless you were to live in some foreign and fabulous culture with an equal degree of diversity, culture and glitz (such as Paris, Rome or a bunch of others I've never been to) why would one ever want to live outside the 5 great boroughs? As smelly, stinky and rude as it is, it's NYC. Open mostly about 20 hours of the day, complete with unreliable and again overpriced public transportation with a complimentary dose of stress and anxiety. What's my point? If you don't live in NYC then I don't have one. If you do, well then you're not the ones asking...