Whatever
MacKenzie
Marcos
September 2010
21 posts
Gag Me With A Spoon
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Talk To The Hand
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As If
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Valley
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Weekender
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I went to see Catfish this weekend, and although this photo is not of a catfish, I think it’s okay because the movie really isn’t about catfish either. It’s about Facebook. And full disclosure, although I’m not Facebook friends with the main character of the film, Nev (857 friends), I am Facebook friends with Henry (713) and Rel (854), the filmmakers. But even if I weren’t, I’d still be telling you that Catfish is enthralling and that you and all your cyber-friends should go see it, stat. And yes — it’s real.
Marcos
I’ve been driving around and parking in Los Angeles for a little over a decade now and I still get tickets for random, minor infractions of the law. Since I have neither the time nor the money to fight a ticket, I’ve opted to send a message to the city (attached to my check, naturally) in the most effective way I know how—via hot pink, passive aggressive Post-It note.
Single
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Rich
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Smart
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Tall
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Handsome
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Weekender
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When did I get so bougie? On Saturday I biked down to Ditmas Park, a beautiful South Brooklyn neighborhood with tree-lined streets and massive Victorians, and now I am coveting real estate in the dirtiest way. As a teenager, I imagined my mid-twenties would be an endless cosmopolitan party filled with good music and bad choices. Instead, here I am on a Sunday night browsing the Times’ real estate listings and doing mortgage calculations. At the moment, my savings would enable me to put a down payment on a used double wide somewhere near the airport, but there are others deals to be had in Ditmas Park. Take, for example, the $10 pint + bouquet at Sycamore, a charming bar/flower shop on Courtelyou. If I can’t have a house with a garden, at least I can bring the garden to me (and kill a couple of beers in the process).
Marcos
In the world of the occult, fortune cookies are arguably lower on the totem pole of credibility, particularly when held up to more interactive forms of future prediction such as astrology or tarot cards. That being said, I’ve always wished them to be of more significance…until this weekend. Maybe it was referring to something other than my teleliterary aspirations, but after spending the entire day writing, it was hard for me not to take this little piece of paper as a blow to my self-esteem gently tucked into a cavernous little cookie. I’m choosing to believe it was just encouraging me to take a break.
Sugar
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Chocolate
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Butter
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Vanilla
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Egg
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Weekender
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Like 8.4 million of our neighbors, Morgan and I suddenly realized that New York is a horrible, horrible place, and this Labor Day weekend we fled the city for… a slightly smaller city. Philadelphia, however, has fewer obviously crazy people and smells decidedly less like poop. Plus, a short 30-minute bus ride west of downtown is the charming township of Lower Merrion, home (for now) to the Barnes Foundation and its inimitable collection of Impressionist art. I discovered several things during our tour of the gallery and surrounding gardens. 1) I don’t care for Renoir, instead favoring 2) Modigliani and Rousseau, and 3) my boyfriend’s a real weirdo (see above).
Marcos
While searching for a parking spot on the CBS lot, I came across a familiar vehicle that made me stop in my tire tracks. Had I passed through a rip in the space-time continuum via the fourth floor of a parking structure in Studio City and been transported to the East Coast? Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, as I saw many other prop vehicles nearby. Sometimes I really miss New York, not just because of the friends I left behind, but because everyone is who they say they are and everything is what it appears to be.
Heart
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Water
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