Best Most Important Art Show

Saturday I went to see the "I Pity the Dolls" show at the Orchard Street Art Gallery.



You see, there's this guy, and he's been collecting Mr. T dolls and now he has over 150 of them and now they're on exhibit there until July.



The dolls were all made from this pattern book that was published in 1984. It's all explained a lot better here. (I like it when it says on that page: "This is the most important collection of Mr. T. handmade dolls in existence.")



Also, they were playing this old Mr. T Video that I think I remember seeing at somepoint during my gradeschool education. I think.



There was other Mr. T-related art on hand as well.



But really, it was all about the dolls . . .









































Also, they had a bunch of new dolls that had recently been made by a variety of artists. It seemed that many of the artists interpreted the pattern quite liberally.





















Undoubtably the most important collection of homemade Mr. T dolls that I have ever seen.

Best Wednesday Night Concert

I just ate too much Kentucky Fried Chicken. It seems I'm always saying stuff like that. Anyway, I ate too much chicken and don't know what to say about lastnight's MIA show. These are the facts:

1) The show was at S.O.B's in Soho. That's "Sounds of Brazil"'s. It was a slightly odd space for the show, if you ask me.
2) The first DJ of the night played lots of Hip Hop over Indian music (uhm, Bhangra, right? I'd hate to call it that and be wrong). Lots of it was great, especially her mix of "Dirt Off Your Shoulder." I gave her the thumbs up (literally) after that one. Oh, and she playd DJ Tiga's version of "Hot in Herre", so good job with that too, mysterious Indian Lady DJ.
3) The second DJ was DJ Marlboro, proclaimed to be the hottest Brazilian baile funk DJ there is. Ok, if you say so. He was pretty great, I probably would have paid money just to hear him playing songs I sort of recognized, but probably not as much as I paid for tonight's show.
4) MIA's DJ was a real dirtbag. That's the impression I got. But the funny thing was that her usual DJ, Diplo, who made her mixtape and everything, was at the show . . . just not playing the records. Which was too bad, as DJ Dirtbag messed up a few things real bad during the show.
5) MIA was great, of course, and we were right right up in the front. (I suppose you could figure that out from the photos). Her set was just barely 30 minutes, which is to be expected, I suppose, as she only has twelve or thirteen songs anyway.

Like before, the set started with this video mix of a press conference with George W. Bush and Tony Blair where Bush keeps interrupting Blair to say "M.I.A." What, were we back at Zoo TV?





After the video mix ended it took a few minutes for MIA to get to the stage through the crowd, which threw the energy off a little, but then she got down to business and it was good.






The idea of this photo is a lot better than the look of the photo.



Near the end of the show I thought: Hey, I'm really close to her, maybe I'll use the flash? Something I hardly ever do at concerts.









It was good. Sorry I didn't have so much to say. Like I said, too much chicken.

Best Long-Delayed Time-Line

As promised a while back, here's the story of the day when my phone got stole.

8:00 AM: Wake up, feel very ill. It's like all the weight in my body has shifted to my head. Don't feel like I can even go to work. I go to work. I think my Taco Bell binge is largely to blame for the illness.

9:45 AM: Throw up in workplace bathroom

10:00 AM: When I tell my boss that I haven't been feeling so good. He says "That's not good billing" and let's me go.

10:30 AM: I am home. I nap, epicly.

3:00'ish PM: Wake up. Remember that buddy Jeff and his Brazilian Girlfriend are leaving the city tonight. I want to see them before they go, I give Jeff a call. He tells me to hustle over.

4:00 PM: Having hustled, I arrive at 97th Street. There is a UHaul full of furniture parked in front of Jeff's place. Every possession I've known Jeff to possess has been thrown onto the sidewalk. Jeff is in the process of throwing possessions I never even knew about out onto the sidewalk. I meet the Girlfriend.

4:03 PM: Jeff explains a dire situation. He and the Girlfriend have a flight to catch at 9:00. Jeff needs to finish throwing away all his possessions that he hasn't packed up. Jeff needs to finish loading U-Haul trick with furniture and packed up possessions. Jeff needs to drive U-Haul down to storage in Chelsea, store belongings, return U-Haul to Harlem, and get to the airport. Jeff is in a bit of trouble.

4:05 PM: I begin to help toss stuff and sweep. I contemplate Jeff's dire situation.

4:30 PM: Situation continues to be dire. I propose to Jeff that he and the GF take off for Chelsea and offer to finish emptying out the apartment. Jeff accepts my offer gracioulsy.

4:31 PM: Jeff suggests, and I accept, that I also go to Chelsea with them and return the U-Haul to Harlem. Did I say that I accepted? I didn't accept immediately, it took some considering.

5:00 PM: The U-Haul is loaded, we begin our drive to Chelsea.

5:20 PM: Pulled over by cops operating routine safety inspections in front of the Javits Center. Friendly officer asks us "D'ya have any dead hookas in tha back?" We laugh nervously. No, of course not. No dead hookers, why would we have dead hookers? What sort of crazy talkis that?

5:30 PM: Ok, I'm making up times. But it's important that timelines have time in them.

5:31 PM: Arrive at Chelsea Storage. Jeff and the GF begin unloading the truck. I begin getting myself psyched up for the drive up to 132nd Street. I buy a bottle of water for the ride and a bag of chips.

5:50 PM: Hands are shaken, Bests are wished. I begin my drive.

5:51 PM: Driving from Chelsea to Harlem in the biggest U-Haul they make is like the funnest thing I've ever done I decide after one minute of driving. I don't know the NYC radio stations, I tune through the channels endlessly and think about Star Wars.

6:15 PM: As I approach 132nd and Broadway, I notice the McDonalds at 125th and Broadway. In the window they advertise very nicely priced Value Meals. My attention is particularly drawn to the $3.98 2 Chicken Fajita Value Meal. Man, I love McDonalds' chicken fajitas.

6:20 PM: Arrive at U-Haul in Harlem with time to spare (did I mention it closed at 7?) The fellows behind the counter have numerous questions for me and lots of papers for me to sign. I try to feign ignorance on all sorts of truck-rental related matters, but it turns out I don't have to, as I'm completely ignorant to the terms of the rental. I refuse to pay for anything, repeatedly say "Hey, it's their problem, not mine, I'm just returning it." I say this in a friendly, ignorant way. Not in a way that expresses a lack of willingness to take responsibility. Also, I was not willing to take responsibility for that truck, but I did sort of clean out the front seat.

6:25 PM: Start walking down Broadway to the 125th Street Subway stop. Take a picture of the car shown above. I'm really, really thinking about the Fajita Value Meal. Consider my summer rule to only eat fast food once a week (I invented this rule earlier in the day as I considered my actions at Taco Bell the night before.)

6:30 PM: I enter the 125th Street McDonalds. I've been working hard and doing good, haven't I? I deserve a little reward, don't I? Perhaps I'll request a receipt and bill it to Jeff. I order the 2 Fajita Value Meal, of course.

6:35 PM: I get a call from Patricia Young. I tell her that I'm at a McDonalds in Harlem and that I'll call her back in an hour. "What are you doing there?" "I'll explain later."

6:36 PM: I sit down at a corner table across from a gentleman who has taken his two daughters out to McDonalds for Happy Meals. I set my cell phone down on the table beside my tray. I shall never see it again.

X:XX PM: Did you know that I don't have a watch and that I just use my cell phone to tell time? It's true. I have no idea when I finished my dinner and sided my table, but I doubt it took me longer than 10 minutes. I walk over the the elevated 125th Street stop of 1/9 (although I hear there isn't a 9 train anymore, not that it ever made a difference to me). I sit on the platform, pleasantly waiting for the next train. I wonder what time it might be, so I reach into my pocket for my phone. Which isn't in my pocket. So I reach into the side pocket of my bag for my phone, as the side pocket of my bag is one of my favorite places to keep my phone. It isn't there. So I reach into the center pocket for my cell phone, which is also a pretty good place to keep my phone. But it isn't there. I check my pants pocket again for my phone, maybe I missed it the first time? Nope, still not there. The side pocket? Still not there. The other side pocket? Not there. It begins to occur to me that maybe I don't have my phone. A train pulls up, I decide I better go down to McDonalds to see if my phone was there.

X:XX PM: The woman sitting at the table where I had eaten a few minutes before kindly informs me that she "Hasn't seen no phone." I'm sorry to have bothered her. Across the aisle, the gentleman with the two daughters (who are still working on those McNuggets) suggests I ask the manager. Which is a likely thing for the man who took my phone to suggest. I ask to talk to the manager. It is very hard for her to grasp the concept of me leaving my phone, but eventually she starts to catch on. I suggest that maybe I accidentally threw it out with everything that was on my tray, so she has Andres take the trash bag out back and he and I go through it. No phone. The manager gives me her phone to call my phone. It has been turned off. By the man with the two daughters. If I were someone tough, like Laura Young, I would have gone into that McDonalds and started threatening people. But I am a tall white guy still wearing his work clothes, so I accept that my phone is gone, and head back to the subway.

X:XX PM: I swipe my metrocard. "Just Swiped" the turnstile tells me. Oh come on, it's like forever ago that I swiped it. Oh well. I walk down Broadway to the next stop, which isn't close. There is a light drizzle.

X:XX PM: I board the next subway, get off, catch the cross-town bus. My fellow bus riders are loud and rambunctious. They do not understand that I have been robbed of my cell phone and have a lot of people to call. And an apartment to empty out and clean.

X:XX PM: Arriving at the apartment it strikes me that there's twice as much stuff to get rid of as I remember there being when I left. The pile of possessions on the street has already been well picked-over.

X:XX PM: Having tossed many an item on the refuse pile, I now try to get the enormous box of food items emptied from the kitchen out to the curb. (The former tenants of the apartment decided not to empty the cuboards or refrigerator)(Something I Definitely Forgot to Say Earlier that is Very Important: Jeff wasn't the only one to move out of the apartment, all of his roommates moved out, he was just the last to go.) This is a difficult task for me as 1) The box is huge and very, very heavy (that's what I meant by "enormous" I suppose) 2) I only have one arm. I wind up dragging it down the hall and out to the front steps. When I get to the front steps the box rips open, letting its contents loose all over the steps. Passersby look on with bemusement. I am hot, I am sweaty. I am in office clothes. I remember that I'm not in perfect health. I am bound by the principles of the Scout Oath and Scout Law to remain, but I really could use a helpful Tenderfoot or two right now.

X:XX PM: As I wonder how to take care of the grocery spill (there don't seem to be any trashbags or decent recepticles left in the house) a young gentleman approaches me from down the street. Apparently he is the guy that owns the sidewalk. He inquires as to what it is that I think I am doing and if I know that I'm not supposed to just throw stuff out on the side of the sidewalk. I tell him that I do not know what it is that I'm doing and that I didn't know that I couldn't throw every last thing that was in the apartment out onto the sidewalk. He inquires as to how it is that I don't know these things and why it is that I am doing them. I tell him that I don't live there and I'm just helping and that everyone has moved out. This isn't a responsible enough answer for him. I apologize and explain that I'm just helping out and doing what I was told to do. I think that internally I'm
appealing to some sort of respondiat superior sort of rule, but this guy hasn't been to law school. I would say that the discussion gets a little heated, I try to explain that my cell phone has been stolen and that I can't call anyone to help me move the stuff back into the house or to a more suitable location and that I really, really don't know what I'm doing. He and I decide, less than amicably, that maybe I
should leave. Of course, there are the groceries all over the steps. I foolishly ask if he has a bag for me to put them in. His response is of the "Yeah, right, as if I'd help you" variety--he doesn't grasp how ready I am to leave these groceries all over his precious sidewalk and that it is now a favor from me to him that I clean them up as he owns the sidewalk and is responsible for all that occurs on it.

X:XX PM: I go inside and look for something I can put the groceries in. I decide to tear down some of the drapes and to wrap up everything in them. This puzzles the folk on the street, but I'm set on getting out of there as soon as I can.

X:XX PM: The best work I can do is done. A large box of casette tapesand a large box of non-perishable food items remain in the house. Some more sweeping could have been done, too. I leave with a bag full of brand new cooking oils and vinegars that I found in the cabinets. I decide to treat myself to a ride home on the M5, something I've always enjoyed doing. It turns out that an M5 stop is a little harder to find than I remembered (I thought 5th Avenue was just covered in them like bus stop chicken pox, it isn't). I wind up on some other bus, everything seems like it's going well until it makes a sudden turn into the west 30's. By no means do I get home quickly, but I do get home.

It was a long night, not all of it was good, but now I've replaced my phone and it is all nothing more than another story to me, like so many memories become.

Best Post Dedicated to Rebekah

Rebekah,

You said you wanted a briggie.blogspot.com shout-out, so I'm shouting-out atcha. On Sunday your old roommates had a bunch of us over to the new place to eat hamburgers on the roof. As you know, the building you decided not to live at is the sickest apartment building in Lower Manhattan and the amenities offered to its humble tenants and their guests are mind boggling. Here's some pictures of us all post-dinner on the roof. Please note that we decided to eat on the side of the roof that does not have the lawn . . . maybe next time? Everyone hopes you like it in California, with the beach and all that stuff you pretend is so much greater than living in little apartments and having Taxis honk at you and mice run over you in your sleep.



Everyone looks nice in this photo, right? But Erin looks a little, uhm, different from everyone else, doesn't she?



That's because she really wanted to be flipping her hair in the picture, this is the best shot I caught with my camera (on Natalie's camera I got a near-perfect flip)



To the Rest of My Regular Readers: Get used to seeing pictures from Erin and Liesel and Amber and Natalie's apartment building because it is the place to be this summer. Must I repeat myself: the roof, it has a lawn. A lawn. And views of everything.

Best Saturday Afternoon in Brooklyn

Saturday afternoon I finally went to see Patricia and Laura's newest place in Brooklyn. Now they live real close to the Marcy stop on the J. It's real nice over there, the streets are well-shaded and hipsters and Puerto Rican men playing dominoes coexist peacefully on the street. If Disneyland were Brooklyn, it would be the Youngs' new neigborhood.



(I've included this second photo of Patricia with her $1.50 milkshake so that she can choose which one she likes better to use for Friendster)



Back at their well-decorated home, "Paradise City" came on the radio and Laura was left with no other option but to rock out.



The important thing about this sign that you might not be able to see is that, in spanish, it tells the tenants to put their trash "en el beisman." (Beisman = Basement) Things like this make me really wonder if I'll ever go to Mexico City again, and if "yes", then how soon can as soon as possible be?



Then a number of us went to the park and sat in a circle:













The thing that I was surprised to see is that the cool kids of Brooklyn (all right, look at them, they are not kids, they may not realize it, but they are adults) with all their tattoos and trucker hats and . . . tattoos and everything love going to the park to talk and wrestle and eat chips and sing songs on nice days just like everyone else.



Also The "Briggie is My Homeboy" post is getting so far down there that I best link to it and all the hot comment-action that's going on with it. Anyway, it's starting to seem that these t-shirts might actually really happen, but it's not too late (and perhaps it never will be too late) to "order" yours. Unless you are a mysterious anonymous commentor who wants a shirt, I may be getting in touch with you relatively soon to talk about shirt size and possibly even shirt color. Also, for the record, I never volunteered to also make mugs with my picture on them. If you want a mug with me, I'll gladly send you the picture, but you'll have to take it to the mall yourself to have it made.

Best Silly Internet Video

Do you know how people are always forwarding you videos, pictures, or stories that they think are so funny and you're like "Hmm, maybe"? Like, that's all the internet is, people forwarding allegedly funny things, right? And do you know what I pretty much never ever post at Steady Mobbin'? Funny internet videos, pictures, and stories. But I'm posting a funny video now. Because it is too dang funny. (The link wasn't working, so you'll have to cut and paste it)

http://www.ebaumsworld.com/nutrigrainad.html

Just when you thought all the funny advertisements had died, along comes this. I kind of wonder if it's real, or one of them, what are they called, the commercials ad companies make to show that "Hey, we can make ads, hire us!" Now I must ask, how is it that Napoleon Dynamite is a movie but this commercial isn't?

Best Birthday Party of the Summer

Sariah had her birthday party last night (or, more honestly, maybe I should say 'a few hours ago') at the Tavern on the Green. There was a guy with a list at the door and everything. You should've gone, it was real fun. Even Tony Soprano was there. I'm not making that up. Oh, and also, there were cupcakes.



And I don't mean to be tacking stuff on to what should be a Sariah-centric post, but you have read about the "Briggie is My Homeboy" t-shirts, haven't you? No? Scroll down a few posts, you'll know it when you see it. And the comments are fairly lively, if you didn't already know.

Best Killing of the Time II

What if I talk about new movie trailers? It's been a while since I last did this.

Roll Bounce A little while ago, I declared that this would be the best movie of the summer (?). I stick by that declaration, but I have found out that this movie isn't coming out until the end of the September. This news nearly ruined my summer and I became desperate for some hope for a new best movie of the summer, something that could somehow come slightly close to a roller skating movie starring Bow Wow. I wasn't very hopeful until I saw the trailer for . . .

March of the Penguins I mean, come on! This looks GOOD. Penguins? A Penguin reality adventure? Are you kidding me? The sliding and the swimming and the marching and the bumping into each other? Sign me up and make it in IMAX!

Deep Blue However, this movie strikes me as the most terrifying documentary ever made. I do not like underwater creatures, I do not like movies about underwater creatures, especially the underwater creatures that really exist. If I am Indiana Jones, then they are my snakes. (Especially underwater snakes, I suppose . . . but I don't have much of a problem with abover water snakes, if they're not biting)

Howl's Moving Castle I think Hayo Miyazaki's are boring and that the pictures aren't pretty enough. What do you think about that? Princess Mononoke was supposed to be really violent, but only a couple people got their arms shot off by arrows (if I remember correctly), that's not violent. And Spirited Away was supposed to be a feast for the imagination or something, but I just thought it was a bunch of creatures that looked kind of dumb and didn't make much sense. More of the same here, I suppose. Maybe it turns out that anime is boring and I was just so sold on Robotech, Voltron, Battle of the Planets, and Captain Harlock as a kid that I gave the rest of it a free ride for a long time . . . but even when I was real young I could tell that Star Blazers were boring. That said, the original Dragon Ball (no Z, no GT), in Spanish, was awesome and one of my favorite things about Mexico.

Mad Hot Ballroom This is the first 6 minutes of the Spellbound of ballroom dance movies. Why have I not yet seen the remaining 99 minutes yet? Pure carelessness on my part, that's the only possible explanation. Maybe just maybe this movie will be as good as the penguin one.

War of the Worlds Is this really just a movie about Tom Cruise running around Jersey looking scared, or has Spielberg made a movie full of sci-fi action that he's just not showing us in the trailers? I kind of liked Independence Day (we were so foolish back then!), I kind of liked Signs . . . is this the combination of the two? Or is it just Signs in Jersey?

The Island Yes, I see the explosions and the people in white suits, but what is this movie about? Is this one surprisey too?

A History of Violence As I started watching this trailer I was thinking about things I could say to make fun of it like "Uh oh, better pick up the trash!" but pretty soon I was like, "Whoah, this looks like a real good movie." And Ed Harris looks just like the badguy from Condor Man (funny, I wasn't expecting the internet to not have any pictures of the guy). You could say that the moment he takes his sunglasses off in this trailer is the moment at which I was sold on "A History of Violence," just like how my favorite part of Condor Man (it seems a little ridiculous to suggest that I could have one single favorite part of this movie) is when the bad guy flips up his visor while in his Porsche to reveal his creepy eye.

Rebound I still refuse to watch this trailer. Which reminds me, isn't it great that we don't have to see the White Chicks trailer every single time we go to the movies now that it's the summer of 2005, not 2004?

Deramer A lesson I learned from movies by the time I was done with kindergarten if not nursery school is that if a horse falls down, it gets shot. The children that see this movie are going to grow up to be very, very soft.

Curse of the Were Rabbit Things that Happened 10 Years Ago: I finished High School. I started college. The most recent Wallace and Gromit movie, "A Close Shave", came out. Hey, look at this. It's 2005 and there's a new Wallace and Gromit movie. I don't think I'll ever see anything half as brilliant as the Wrong Trousers, but I'll give this a shot or two.

The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lava Girl in 3D He might be called Shark Boy, but what's the deal with Lava Girl's teeth? Also, how many movies a year can Robert Rodriguez make, and how long would it take him to make a good movie instead? I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just that Spy Kids 3-D was so dumb. I'm sure this will be much, much better.

Also Don't forget to read about the "Briggie is My Homeboy" shirts two posts down from here if you haven't already. OR, read it again, if you'd like. Potential orders are kind of piling up, more or less, so get in on the action yourself and ask for one. I'm willing to be the homeboy of anyone that wants a shirt.

Best Monthly Feature that Probably Only Interests Me

Hey, check it out . . . May was my hottest month to date by over 100 hits.



This is how the month looked, minus the first, plus the first of June before anyone had visited yet:



If you keep coming, I'll keep looking for stuff to post (and the time to post it).

And if you haven't read the post below, you better check it out along with all the excitement in the comments area.