Friday, 25 January 2008

New York’s Latest Butcher Shop. Awesome! (And Gross…)

I had been attending a very grown-up political event at Rockefeller Center with a couple of my friends. I elected to walk all the way back to my parents’ apartment and stumbled upon what I think just might be the very latest development in the culinary world…

Lo and behold: on the ground floor of an enormous office building located somewhere on Park Avenue was located a very strange and luminous butcher shop. Instead of cutting them and slicing them and aesthetically arranging the slabs in sandwiches, the butchers had taken the whole bodies of meats and put them in swimming pools of formaldahyde.

To complete the marinade, in one of the tanks, the butchers had placed a dove in a bird cage and a leather easy-chair.

It must be so easy to grab lunch if you work in that building! Just go downstairs, ask the butcher for a ham & cheese on a bagel sandwich, and watch him go for a dive! I wonder what butchers look like in wet suits…

Friday, 4 January 2008

The World’s Ugliest Painting Award. (And we still don’t know what it’s like to have sex with God.)

I’m sure many of you join me in wondering how Mary got to have sex with God so she could have Jesus. I’m sure even more of you can join me in wondering what was “immaculate” about her conception. I looked up “immaculate” on the internet, and it said: “free from spot or stain… immaculate linen”. So she got pregnant without staining her sheets? Why this is such a big deal is a mystery as well.

Sometime in the 17th Century, there lived an artist named Antonio de Pereda. She lived in Spain and was a painter. A shitty painter.

Sometime after that, Boston – a city in Massachusetts – built an art museum. It found a painting by Antonio de Pereda and stuck it on its wall.

This painting happens to depict Mary’s Immaculate Conception. WHOA!, you say. Now we might find out how Mary managed to keep the sheets clean while having sex with God. That is DEFINITELY something I want to see! Especially since God must be some lover, since he’s God and all.

Take a look at this painting:

This is horrible. Not only is Mary a total dog, but there is NO sex going on in this picture.

Now take a look at the tiny angel heads at the bottom of the picture:

What are those? Are those supposed to be cute? Maybe it’s a cultural thing – Spain has lower standards of baby-cuteness? Maybe babies were uglier back then and there has been evolution to cure babies of ugliness so we take better care of them? Your guess is as good as mine. Please feel free to share it below in the “Comments”.

Wednesday, 2 January 2008

Taking a Break from Tourism…

I am walking up to a Metrocard machine. It’s great. There is no Czech option. Only Spanish, which I don’t ever choose, obviously. I know exactly which buttons to press, and within seconds I have a Weekly-Unlimited Metrocard. For a fraction, I might add, of what it costs to travel around London for a day. I pride myself in the speed with which I can purchase a Metrocard.

When I went to buy my first Metrocard, I had the pleasure of being annoyed at tourists – or maybe they were immigrants. Not only were they speaking in Polish (or Russian, or Czech even), but they were deaf! I could tell this from the frantic way they were gesticulating to each other while they spoke in another language. And not only were they deaf, and fluent in sign-language, but they were NOT fluent in Metrocard-machine. They couldn’t press the buttons on the screen well at all. Like I can. Having spent many months flabbergasting locals and natives behind ME in line, it felt wonderful and strange to be flabbergast-ED.

Ahh, it feels good to be home. Familiar songs being sung by familiar subway-car homeless singers; familiar slang being used in conversations on the subway (“Yo and then she be like, ‘Bitch, please.’” “For real?” “Dead ass.” “You should cut her.”); familiar lectures from my parents (“You shouldn’t wear jeans to an interview.” “But it’s at a coffeeshop in Brooklyn, mom! And my legs are going to be under a table!” “I don’t like your new haircut. You look like a Mullet.” “That’s not how you use the word ‘mullet’, Mom! You’re so …ugh.”).