Who 2: Respect My Authoritah

Back to food, because I think about food alot, and there’s a little issue I have with regional variations. This becomes why I need something to give me some reassurance that I will generally think things are okay, such as Swedes in IKEA. Now I don’t want to go all Yelp on everybody and start personally dissing individual restaurants, because Yelpers generally tend to be spiteful and when one wrong thing happens, they give a place a horrible review. That being said, I went to a local place in Williamsburg that specializes in, oh, I don’t know what you call it, maybe, Redneck food? It’s fried – chicken, catfish, french fries. The place is always packed with hipsters, which probably is why I want to hate it, but even more so, it was really expensive considering it was just fried redneck food.

So here I am, I finally got a job, and I’ve been working my ass off. Literally. I’ve hardly had time to eat and I’ve been having food dreams and been waking up delirious in a drool pool craving pounds upon pounds of french fries. Now I’ve hardly eaten fries in the last few months because A: They’re terrible for you, and B: If I’m gonna indulge, they better be really fucking good. I was a fry cook many years ago, and I hand sliced ginormous Idaho potatoes with a press that left them about a half inch square and deep fried them golden brown, then put some Paul Prudhomme Cajun seasoning on them. Now those were good fries. This place I tried Friday night for takeout, their fries were scrawny and soggy. It came with two small pieces of catfish, mediocre cornbread, and coleslaw that came in a little cup usually reserved for ketchup, which by the way, they didn’t give me for my fries, nor did they provide me with utensils. This was all for the low, low price of fifteen dollars. I will not be directly naming the place here, but PAT, I’m not giving you a thumbs down, I’m giving you the finger.

Back to those regional differences, there’s certain things that are just the best in some places. For instance, the New York Bagel. It is Epic! Massive, fluffy, chewy, and delicious. Now I understand why they traditionally don’t toast them, they’re just so good fresh. I’ve loved bagels for years, but I always had to toast them. I’ve been staying up the street from a place where they’re so good, I just buy one for a dollar and eat it while I walk down the street.

On the other hand, California Mexican food is way superior. Yes there are Mexican people in New York. But the Puerto Ricans, Hondurans, Dominicans, and Cubans have disrupted the mix to a point where some places are kind of a general latin type food place. I’ve had some decent tacos around, but I still haven’t found a classic place like the Golden Donut in Torrance. It was a bakery open at 6am that served 75 cent tacos after 11. Awesome.

What’s really been bugging me however is my coffee. Specifically how everyone wants to force me to put milk, or cream in my coffee. They never fill the thing to the top because it’s that “room for cream”. Guess what? I don’t want that cream. That’s why I drink good coffee. I don’t need to mask the taste with something else. That’s like going into a bar and ordering a Hennessy and coke. What’s the point? You’re ordering cognac and covering it up with a kid’s drink. That’s a rookie maneuver. If you order the good stuff, drink it straight. Otherwise, save some money and get brandy, or well whiskey. Don’t ever try and be a big shot and order nice liquor and then put it in with a hundred fruity flavors or some sugary cover up, it’s a waste.

So back to my coffee. My coworker goes on a coffee run and I order an Americano. That’s a shot or two of espresso and hot water. Made fresh, great coffee flavor. He comes back, I take I sip, and I nearly go ballistic. I’ve been working on two hours sleep. I want to enjoy some caffeine. And this tastes like some 3 day old truck stop coffee loaded with milk. We’re in the middle of a meeting so I try and stay cool, but I am going nuts thinking what part of “Americano, NO cream.” did he not understand. Is this some kind of New York thing? Later a guy told me he was selling pre-made coffee to stores, a terrible idea I think. But he says it’s for people on the go. Milk and sugar already included. I asked what about without? He said “You’re in the minority, cuz you’re outta luck, bub.”

Am I people? Am I the lone person on this planet who enjoys black coffee? Or is it an American thing? All that cream and sugar is why we’re becoming so fat. I can’t stand the thought of it. It’s like putting ketchup on your hot dog or mayo on your hamburger. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Two great tastes that don’t go great together. Hell, they aren’t even two great tastes.

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On Who’s Authority?

Now that I almost have my own place to live, I am in the market for a bed. Since I am living in New York, bed bug capital of the world among many other distinctions, I’ve decided to go new when it comes to buying a mattress. I took a journey down to the Red Hook section of Brooklyn, an old industrial area that like many areas of Brooklyn, has classic old brick buildings that are being populated with many new bars and restaurants and of course, yuppies. So I went to IKEA, located in a remote area on what was probably a fine piece of vacant land on the edge of nowhere not many years ago. Thankfully, it was saved from obscurity by the generous Swedish company.

While traversing the maze in search of bedroom furnishings, I noticed that many people seemed to be speaking Swedish. This is New York, and people speak many languages here, but knowing the Swedes invented or perhaps perfected the art of compact living through stylish pressed particle board assemble yourself furniture made in China only ten percent of the time AND are fans of said furniture, I felt more inclined to spend my American dollars there. It’s my same rationale for patronizing a hole in the wall Mexican joint where no one speaks English. It just seems more authentic if people who represent the ethnic and cultural group that created a product are there consuming a product. I spent a year teaching English in Korea and came back to the USA with a newly expanded desire for Kim Chi, Duck Pokee, Table top Pork Belly Barbeque, and other spicy, pungent, garlicky, Korean delights. I was living in L.A. in the year after returning and went to a large, modern, West L.A. Korean restaurant. It was full of upper middle class white folk wearing trendy clothes and we knew we would be disappointed. The food wasn’t bad, just kind of bland, toned down perhaps. A few months later we went to a place where the sign was in Korean, the people barely spoke two words of English, the decor was awful, but the food was amazing. Oh yeah we were the only non Koreans there. Me being half white, half Chinese, and with my Chinese American uncle.

Honestly you can’t please everybody, yet these are the silly rules I live my life by. I’m just hoping the Swedes don’t disappoint, since I think I’ll be going for the Yngwie Malmsteen bedframe with a Sultan Holla or FinnViking mattress. Or some hergy durgy like that.

Home Is Where I Lay My Head

It sure has been a while since I’ve posted. That’s because I finally got a job after that last rant. Maybe the Gods were answering my prayers. I can’t tell you anything about it, except that it combines getting people drunk with standing on my feet for many hours. I have worked to the point of near exhaustion because my lack of working for the last three months. I’m making up for it now. Next step is getting a place to live. I went through more of the Craigslist BS in dealing with flaky people and run down nasty places at New York City prices. I’ve been looking around Brooklyn in Park Slope, Crown Heights, Green Point, and Williamsburg, where I’ve been couch surfing at three different places. Now on April 1st I will have a place in Bushwick. Provided it’s not all one big joke. It’s cheap, it’s newly renovated, one roommate I met seems good. I can make the most of limited space and being on the go, but it will be nice to have my own closet space and a bed of my own. In the meantime, enjoy these pictures I gathered in my search for a place to live.

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Now Hiring, Idiots

“No I’m sorry sir, we aren’t hiring any more idiots. We are the idiots, and our jobs are taken.”

Seriously, finding a job is never fun, but some days I gotta wonder how these people doing the hiring got their jobs in the first place. The economy sucks, and if you’re fortunate enough to be employed, don’t take it for granted. You could wind up working for these people. Here’s some headlines from Craigslist:

Do You Want a Live Changing Career?

“No I prefer a DEAD end job.”

OPEN HOUSE ON TEUSDAY

“This typo is slightly excusable, the proofreading is not.”

EXCELLANT LINE COOKS

“Bill and Ted’s must be hiring.”

this position requires you to be very energetic and work with a SENSE OF ERGENCY.

“Sense of spelling optional.”

Restuart Staff Wanted

“Stuart? Stuart! Who the fuck is Stuart?”

Bartenders need woman only – (Yonkers )

“No! Bartenders need Beer and Woman. That make Bartender happy!”

You’re better off working for yourself than these idiots. Fuck the man. Now listen to the Clash tell it how it is.


Overheard on the Subway pt. 2

Three teenaged girls are on the subway and one of them is messing with her tongue piercing. It’s come loose and the bar is somehow bent. The second girl helps, but it seems the first girl frequently removes it when she’s around her mother adding to the difficulty of keeping the piercing established.

The third girl brags, “My mom’s down. She took me to get my tongue ring. But she don’t know ’bout my nipple.”

Sorry, but no pictures for this one.

 

Gay, Pimp, or Rock Star?

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Top hat, a cane, fur coat, and gold platform shoes. Taken around 3rd Ave/23rd St. Manhattan. Whaddaya think?