Sign #3 that spring is here - the window screens are back and still their usual ineffective selves.

My local hardware store started selling window screens again, replacing the countless bags of salt previously resting there, unused. The reappearance of the screens is a sure sign that mosquitoes will be pestering New Yorkers in no time. It's no secret that these things are NOT very useful. Unless you're paying a pretty penny (are any of those left?) to be suckered in to thinking the luxe life fits in the East Village, you probably live in an circa 1900 walk up. This said walk up may or may not have plumb (see adjective definition #1) windows, increasing the chances that what little bit of nature is outside will find its way in. I'm not saying there are a lot of bugs here, but the ones that are can outsmart the quickest of fly swatters. Maybe New York's "only the strong survive" mentality extends to other species. That would explain the subway rats, bed bugs, and toughgrannies.

We now return you to our regular scheduled programming.

After a week of technical issues (aka a missing camera cord), I'm back and ready to update you on the last week. Thanks for your patience during the time off. Rest assured I've been taking pictures on a daily basis. The writing? Ehhhhhh not so much. In the spirit of Linguini, let's do this thing!



The weather was decent Monday night after work so I got off the V train a stop early. Walking down Houston I came to its intersection with the Bowery (the former home of a baby grand piano) and saw this cyclist (go green!) waiting for the light to change. I've recently been enjoying the challenge of capturing the city's energy; the contrast that a still object and zooming cabbies can be enticing to an amateur like myself.

Put this on a milk carton...

I can't seem to find the wire needed to connect my camera to my computer. Once I find it this place will be more updated than NYC's transit system. On second thought, that's not saying much...

An afternoon spent underground and back in time.

The success of any major city lies within its ability to constantly evolve, striking a balance between maximizing the potential of its current inhabitants while still attracting new talent for future gains. New York City has (arguably) done this better than any other American city. Once a port for both goods and tired souls, the city evolved into what it is today due to a combination of reasons - among them textiles, the arts, sweat shops, the Great Migration, corporate finance, day laborers, engineering innovation, Babe Ruth, architecture and - more recently - luxury condos, junk bonds, and celebrity chefs. This constant forward movement can sometimes make the fact that New York changes every day more than accepted; it makes it easy to forget once was. But every once in a while the opportunity strikes for the past to not only be remembered, but explored as well.

Based on the recommendation from a friend (thank you!) my dad and I crawled down an open man hole cover in the middle of a Brooklyn intersection and explored the world's oldest subway line. The monthly tours are organized by Bob Valentine and the Brooklyn Historic Railway Association; Bob discovered the tunnel in 1980 and has since dedicated his life to the preservation of the tunnel and education of local residents. Bob took the tour group (of close to 100) through the tunnel's history, both physically and through his extensive story telling. I encourage you to read more about the tunnel (here, here, and here) if you're interested. This is a must-do for anyone who appreciates the engineering marvel that is the current subway system. (Note - the tour costs $15 a person and no, your unlimited MTA pass will not swipe).

On a side note, no alligators were discovered along the way.

More pictures:

A look down the tunnel:


Old lock:



Air shaft (for ventilation):

In case you didn't know.

Now you do. Your friendly Dunkin Donuts is now Kosher! Whew, I was worried for a moment.

German engineering and art mix at Grand Central.

From now until April 6 Grand Central Terminal is home to two BMW art exhibits, the Expression of Joy display and the BMW Art Car World Tour. The former is the final product of a joint effort between artist Robin Rhode and filmmaker Jake Scott. Rhode used the BMW Z-4 Roadster as his "paintbrush" to masterfully express his vision. To my surprise the actual exhibit, although good to see in person, is upstaged by the official website. Even if you can check out the physical exhibit, I highly recommend spending some time on the website.

The second piece of the exhibit is an excerpt from BMW's traveling Art Car World Tour (background here, thank you NYTimes). The project started in 1975 as a way for BMW to demonstrate its commitment to the arts. Four of the 16 cars are showcased at GCT - the Art Cars are those designed by Andy Warhol (pictured below), Roy Lichtenstein, Frank Stella and Robert Rauschenberg. Much to the appreciation of this not-so-up-on-the-artists-showcased, BMW provides background information on each car with the aid of an 800 number. If you'd like to learn more about the cars, their artists, and the back story to BMW's relationship with them, call 1-888-746-0460. Enter one of the codes below to learn more once the call connects:

Robin Rhode (Expression of Joy) - 10
Frank Stella - 20
Andy Warhol - 30
Roy Lichtenstein - 40
Robert Rauschenberg - 50

Andy Warhol:






Robert Rauschenberg:






Roy Lichtenstein:





Frank Stella:






More photos from the Expression of Joy:











Cheers.

Hide your daughters, Atlanta - the Nerd Herd is rolling into town.

How about a feel-good story to start your weekend? The Daily News ran a follow up story today about the Nerd Herd. Word spread like wildfire yesterday about the 4 engineering whizzes possibly being shut out of the Robotic World Festival due to lack of funding. Donations poured in to their Sheepshead Bay school, including a $5,000 donation from James Dyson. It's refreshing to see that even during a day when the Freedom Tower lost its freedom and city's unemployment numbers were a grim reality check, society recognized the chance to be selfless, even if only for a moment.

Watch out, Atlanta.

The 80's live on underground.

Okay, so today's picture falls short of capturing life as a moment in time in the traditional sense. But forget that this barbershop is underground and focus on the Aqua Net, the tri-color neon sign, and glorious denim jackets. Ladies and gentlemen – the 80’s are alive and well. Granted I get my hair cut in a basement, feeling the uptown NRQ and soon to be slashed W race below my feet. But in the 42nd Street subway station? Clearly the owner is doing okay for himself, assuming he’s been in business at least as long as his posters have been around. Then again, they could have been a recent craigslist find.


In unrelated photo news, check out this story about the “Nerd Herd.” Four 12-14 year old friends are having trouble raising the $7,000 necessary for them to travel to the national Robotic World Festival in Atlanta. The Sheepshead Bay kids won the regional competition with their creation, the Thingamajig. Check under the seat cushions and help the nerds out!

Sign #2 that spring is here - people wait in line for dessert.

The delicious Dessert Truck has been satisfying New York's sweet teeth for a few years now. Their concept is simple - deliver fine dining desserts to the every day masses. It doesn't hurt that they drive around in an oh-so-adorable truck complimented nicely by a pinch-its-cheeks website. After a brief winter break the truck and its crew were back in action in late January. As of recently the lines are getting longer and steadier, a clear indication that summer is around the corner. That or people are taking the day's news with a side of comfort. Also beating Bobby Flay at his own game helps earn some street cred. [video]

The sweet offerings are both recession and mouthwatering friendly. The menu is changed often, but staples like creme brulee and bread pudding topped with bacon custard are hard to pass up.

A day more erratic than your 401K.

Tuesday’s 9-5, errr 8:30am-9:30pm was rough, so my apologies for not posting until today. Hopefully all will be forgiven when you realize this post is blessed with more than one picture. And words…lots of words. Cheers.

The last thing I wanted to do was prance around the city on my way home from work hoping to be inspired for the daily pic. I wanted to cook the steak that was quickly turning in my fridge (steaks are supposed to defrost for three days, right?), snuggle up with Google Reader, and crash for 8 hours. None of that happened. But alas, you won’t hear me complaining.

I walked to Grand Central to cool off from a day worth forgetting. Looking up I saw one of the reasons I love this town. Most people see these shots during the opening credits to Law & Order or the-best-damn-show-everrrrrrrrrrrr. For those that live and/or work here, we can see the same shots if we stay long enough at work for the sun to set and the moon to rise like cream to the top. I don’t know about you, but walking through the streets surrounded by such bad ass-ness will never get old. Even while being overshadowed by empty buildings, bailout money-turned-electric bill streaming from shimmering windows, the streets still manage to feel more alive than any other city’s business district. Hey Midtown – who loves ya?

Dear politicians, special interest groups, commercial real estate moguls, architecture firms, and Bloomberg – next time you are developing serious plans for the Moynihan Station (bring on the next real estate bubble!), take a lesson from the pages of Grand Central and do things right. GCT manages to strike the right balance between practical use (125,000 riders a day on Metro North, another 500K stop by to say hi), shops, and beauty. I used a slower ISO to capture people moving and shaking on their way to wherever they might be headed.




Hitting Grand Central I grabbed the 4 express because a) it was there and the people waiting for the 6 local looked entirely too frustrated (read – they’ll be there all night) and b) of the guy getting on the 4 with two huge bongos. One man, two massive bongos. I somewhat regret not being Jessica Simpson and whipping out the camera, but part of me was just wanted to sit there and enjoy his skills. After tipping him I bounced and headed towards 11th Street Bar where I was going to meet a friend for a much needed cold one and great entertainment.


Cutting across 14th street, I was enlightened. Penn State was playing Florida in the “other” basketball tournament. I dropped in at Finnerty’s for the second half and enjoyed the PBR/shot of whiskey special by my lonesome. Yes, it’s the NIT tournament, and no, I’ve never watched an NIT game before this season.
But it’s Penn State, need I explain more? BSD sums it up better than I possibly could. We held on for a good win against Florida, a team that was 18-1 at home this year. Not bad. Due up next for the team that won’t quit is a trip to the Garden on Tuesday against the Irish. Any takers? Tickets are $10.

Finally getting across the ‘hood to 11th Street, I arrived to find the band done for the night and my friend p/o’ed that I took a serious detour. But all was forgotten when we realized our old friend’s clone was sitting next to us at the bar. Clone in the back-of-the-head-cow-lick-and-all sense, not in the actual sense. That would just be too much.

The pendulum swung back to the brighter side by the time I called it a night. Here’s hoping it stays that way for the rest of the week.

Get Mother Nature on the phone.

Of course. Two days after I write about spring showing its face slowly but surely, the temperature dropped double digits. It was downright cold walking to work in the morning. This picture is from the florist next to my office. Spring might have sprung, but winter is being a stubborn old mule. Tuesday should be a little better, with temps targeted for the high forties. But I guess I shouldn't complain; things are a lot worse out west.

Houston St. - the new piano hot spot.

This piano was at the corner of Houston & the Bowery today. My question is - what happened to the rest of it?





I ended up taking a few more shots during my walk today, forcing me to create a Flickr account. Check it out here.

Sign #1 that spring is here - little green plants.

It's been refreshingly warm this weekend, and much of New York was out and about enjoying the fruits of Mother Nature. Monday is looking bleak (for reasons other than the weather), so I am thankful that today's forecast was free of rain and clouds.

Out for a walk, I noticed new life poking its head through the pale, grayish mulch in Tompkins Square Park. Hopefully these are daffodils, a continuing tribute to 9/11 and something I did not know about before researching for this post. I have a new found sense of appreciation for the otherwise overused trumpeting spring flower.

The park itself continues to be a reflection of the neighborhood; diverse classes of individuals co-existing in a common space. Long standing users take up most of the southeast corner, inhabiting the chess tables as either places for friendly competition or cold concrete beds. The basketball courts are swarmed by kids doing their best to stay out of trouble and/or work on the newest skateboarding trick. The dog park is a story in itself. Don't forget the weekend farmer's market. All in all, the park is anything but a circus of gentrification - something this local appreciates. Tompkins would not be what it is today without the efforts of head gardener Michael S. Lytle, who retires on April 30.

Oh Buffalo.

Today I found myself headed to Buffalo for a day's work. I arrived back at the Buffalo airport at 6:07pm for a 6:49 flight (try doing that at JFK). I took this picture because I was shocked to learn that B-lo's airport considers itself "international." Wanting to confirm this, I did some homework only to come up one part disappointed and two parts cheated. There is not a single non-stop international destination from the airport officially known as BUF. Cincinnati, check. Atlanta and Charlotte? Done and done. Toronto? Good luck. I'd like to know what is so international about the Buffalo airport, beyond their directions to Canada, of course.

Mind you, this is also the airport that let me through security with a messenger bag full of Duff's wings.

Plywood turned canvas.

Not too much to write tonight, as I'm heading to Buffalo early in the morning for work. Today's picture is from the city's mass transit system. In an effort to hide closed off areas of and maybe even spruce up the dismal underground world, sheets of plywood were painted by someone. There are worse ways to waste paint, and I actually enjoyed seeing these.

Midtown Manhattan + Brangelina + rush hour = someone should be fired for this.

Seriously folks. Who had the brilliant idea to shut down Park Avenue's uptown artery at 5pm all this week? It's bad enough that tens of thousands of people are mad dashing to Grand Central to catch trains out of the packed-like-sardines white collar hangout known as midtown. Please don't make our commutes worse by shooting a scene for Angelina's new movie on the steps of St. Bart's church. Check out the link above for high quality pics of the movie; I couldn't muster much with my point and shoot. I'll see if I can do better on Thursday.

The upside to all of this? My go-to street meat guy (a former employee of my organization) says business has been great thanks to the casting of a hundred NYPD and FDNY guys.

Tipping my pint glass to family.

Today was a day to celebrate one's Irish heritage, however authentic that might be. However, today I tip my proverbial glass of alcoholic glory to my brother, who just received an offer for a research position at Harvard. Congratulations, younger brother.

Because I was miles away I could not take a picture of the sheer glee that was undoubtedly strewn across his face. Digging deep into my collection, I chose the photo of him that probably best captures his current state of childish ecstasy.

Congrats, buddy. You absolutely deserve it. We're all very proud of you.

Trekking to (and surviving) Staten Island.

Gasp.

This was the sound unanimously exhaled by my colleagues when they learned I was meeting my father for dinner in Staten Island (he was there for work). Braving the elements (and I'm not talking weather here, people) I hopped the 4 train to Bowling Green and marched my second-guessing-but-open-to-new-things rear end to the Staten Island ferry terminal.

Those of you wanting to see The Statue of Liberty up close, listen up. The ferry is 100% free and provides excellent views of the city's skyline, downtown bridges, and Miss Liberty herself. Note that I will not be using the word "excellent" to describe anything else about the area that is infamously known for its oxymoron-like dump, Fresh Kills. Soon to be a park, yayyyyy!

The 30 minute port-to-port ride was genuinely enjoyable and fairly relaxing. All riders, both commuters and tourists, must exit the boat when it docks and re-board another one for the return trip. I'm sorry Manhattanites, this does not count towards your "I've been to every borough" tally. But don't fret, there's plenty to do there. Staten Island is a thriving residential community, home to many great wonders of the world like Phil's competition, gypsy cabs (seriously), and this girl.

Okay, back to the evening. Dad and I had a great meal at Da Noi, a delicious Italian restaurant on Fingerboard Ave. Attentive service, deep sauces, and reasonably priced. I'd make a return trip.

The picture of the day is from my return trip. It's a bit shaky and grainy since I didn't have a tripod, but you get the idea. I don't care where you live - you can't admit that there is and always will be something missing from this shot.

Keep the cat in the bag, for nothing less than the entertainment factor.

I’m a dog person. Always have been, always will be. For years my requirements for a personal animal have been limited but stringent:

Must be able to retrieve a tennis ball

Must not be a cat

This bugger is changing my mind.



I'm cat sitting for my roommate and his boyfriend as they are in Florida for a week of fun in the sun and occasional team building sessions for work. Having the apartment to myself has been enjoyable, but rather than talk to myself (as I found myself doing) I've begun to bond with the little fur ball. His real name is Absolon (French, I believe) but we call him Dusty, as he has proven to be an excellent Swifter when dragged by the tail. In a positive sense, he's fairly anti-cat. No attitude. He doesn't smell or hiss. He's cuddly and playful like a dog. He chases things when you throw them (retrieving them is another question).

I was lounging around in the afternoon when Dusty joined me on my bed. With me reading and him needing attention, he quickly entertained himself with the take-out bag of a local foodie hot spot.

So far - fatty, trendsetting pork spot - 3.5 stars. Dusty - 5 for 5.

Navigating uncharted (but overdeveloped) territory.

Still yearning for meaningful Saturdays to be here, I am finding myself having ample amounts of free time on the weekends (that’s what they’re for anyway, right?). Outside of the typical brunch/groceries/laundry trifecta, I try to enjoy as much of the city as possible. The best way to do this is by throwing on some sneakers and tackling the urban jungle around me.

Today’s quest - the Upper West Side. Predominately stereotyped for being a safe haven for all things family, I generally have no reason to head up and over from my neighborhood (with the exception of dinosaurs, of course). My only gripe walking down Broadway from 96th Street to Columbus Circle was that it seemed at times like I was walking through a mall, including twelve unique coffee shops. But the architecture is stunning, the people are friendly, and the kids are in no short supply. I took some decent shots throughout the course of the afternoon, but the one spotlighted here was truly unique. The UWS is one the last ‘hoods that I would think an anti-theft system like this would be necessary, but it was nonetheless entertaining.

I'm still deciding what to do with the rest of the pictures I took today. I'll share the link if I decide to post them.

I never promised daily writing.

Loyal readers – my apologies for the delay in posting; I had a rather lethargic weekend and although I did take photos I didn’t exactly get around to posting them in a timely basis. Going forward I will do my best to have everything polished and published by Sunday night for those of you needing a Monday pick-me-up. Enjoy!

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Walking home from my friend’s place Friday night I made a double-take when I saw this antique-bathtub-turned-rusty-plant-box. Had this puppy not been tossed outside and neglected, it could have gone pulled in a pretty penny at any one of the city’s antique shops, especially this one. Porcelain sides, claw feet – come on! The apartment dweller/thoughtless plumber/avid gardener is missing out on potential bucks. Considering the seriousness and frequency of bathroom crimes recently (1, 2), this one being craigslisted wouldn’t be a total shocker.

A glimpse of classic New York.

Short post tonight since my attention is completely on the ongoing Syracuse/UConn game. I was at an Emory alumni event tonight in the always popular Herald Square area. I caught One Madison Ave poking its head out as I crossed 24th Street on my way to the V train. This will always be one of my favorite buildings in the city. Great history, gorgeous lobbies, stellar restaurants, warm park, and home to a bank that hasn't completely vanished off the face of the earth. Too bad the iconic building will find itself going to the dark side soon enough.

I've become "that guy" at work. He's not that bad.

Maybe I'm lazy. Perhaps it's a sign of the recession and the fact that my go-to cobbler has a double-what-it-used-to-be turnaround time. Whatever the case, I've become the person I swore I never would. I wear sneakers to work.

"Sneakers to work? What's so terrible about that?" Please, allow me to explain.

More so than any other place I've visited, checking passerby's out is the normal thing to do here. It's expected. Live here long enough and walk enough places (like you'd have another choice) and I promise that you will be caught off guard (and partially insulted) when someone you observe does not return the glance. Rush hour on the subway; in line for coffee; three people in an apartment big enough for two; eight deep at the bar; packed six wide walking down the street, we live on top of one another. Look your best regardless of whether you're walking to the gym or to a nine o'clock dinner reservation. That's just the way it is, and we're okay with it.

I blame Mother Nature for my conversion. After all it was only a few days ago that March started off with a bang...of snow plows and bags of salt. Not wanting to slush-skate my way to work in wingtips, I rocked a gray suit with boots that would make even Jessica jealous. My shoes now live under my desk, much like my female office counterparts who keep desk drawers full of foot options and schlep to work everyday in (shudder) Uggs. My only hesitation to becoming a permanent shoe swapper is the fact that the most most important person in my organization (this side of the Atlantic) takes the same elevator as me. Rumor has it he has a thing against backpacks; I don't want to know his opinion on Chucks.

But you know what? I kind of enjoy it. I walk faster to work. I don't get as mad when a half-asleep investment banker steps on my foot on the crowded 6. Not to mention the money I'll save between cobbler visits.



For the record - my cubicle is not that bland nor my shoes that white. The image is filtered gray scale with only brown exposed.

Just another garbage day.

Passed this on the way to work. The become your dream graffiti tag (click the image to enlarge) is the work of local artist James Da La Vega. Hailing from East Harlem, he owns a small art gallery on St. Marks Pl. I admit that I've never been inside the shop, but I really don't feel the need. Daily art pops up on the streets either as graffiti markings on garbage like this example or as chalked sketches on the sidewalks. I wouldn't be surprised if more of De La Vega's work shows up here during the warmer months.

The weather will save your 401K.

On the few occasions that I was lucky enough to leave work at a decent time over the course of the past week (read: before 7pm), one of my favorite parts of spring was starting to show face - it was getting lighter out! No longer was my walk home an extension of the sunless (but not lifeless) subway underground. I purposely popped up on the subway earlier than necessary for this shot. God bless the unlimited use metro card.

Daylight Savings couldn’t have come at a better time. Until this past weekend, the weather matched the mood at work . Heck, the snowstorm of the season, causing schools across the area to preemptively close, still fell (no pun intended) six inches short of expectations. Nothing was going right. Geese were taking down planes! Then suddenly, Mother Nature (or is it the gang of meteorologists over there in Greenwich, England?) decided it was time to single handedly save the city. More time for sun coupled with an unusually warm weekend forced hibernating city dwellers to do something they haven’t done in months – leave the apartment and spend some dough.

The city’s lungs were full of flip flop flirting temp’s and tightly guarded cash. People were OUT and ABOUT this weekend (as was I doing my part at brunch). Embrace the weather, fight the recession. We can all do our part. Okay maybe not with flip flops, but definitely with newly purchased light flannel.

Make sure you take pictures of playground equipment when kids are not present.

Wandering the Lower East Side (and avoiding the rain) I noticed this cool fellow in the little park at Essex & Houston. Notice the little guy in the left foot. I don’t know who the designer is, but the medium is very similar to the 8th Ave/14th Street “Life Underground” exhibit. Frogs are cool.

Cutting across town has never been so bad ass.

While walking to David’s Bagels (RIP 14th Street location), a ConEd crew was using this wet saw to cut giant swaths through 14th Street. Although I took many different and frankly, better pictures throughout the day, I was most excited about this one. So excited in fact I shot it off in an email to my dad knowing that he would appreciate the sight of such awesome manly-ness. My chest got a little hairier just looking at it.

What. The. Eff.

I'm a simple man, living amongst eight million others. Instances or events come and go without comment, swept under the categorical rug of "only in New York." The homeless couple selling toothbrushes on the 6 train during rush hour. The hipster begging for a vegan meal in the Village. Public urination. I'm fine with those things. In fact, I appreciate them making my day more colorful than your average suburbanite's. But sometimes, just sometimes, I see something that can’t be left without comment. Gentlemen of the blogging world, take note.

The bathrooms on my office’s floor are some of the cleanest I’ve ever seen. Well lit, cleaned daily, and used by less than 20 people a day. But someone on my floor has official public-toilet-bowl-phobia. Are 12 layers of Grade-A toilet paper really necessary? Are the company provided toilet seat covers not up to snuff? And why oh why can the TP abuser NOT kick the leftovers into the toilet and flush them down?! Seriously, folks. Public toilets might ruin your one-on-one time when it comes to number two, but your ridiculous abuse of the firm’s “Go Green” policy should not ruin mine. It doesn’t help the fact that the culprit uses my preferred stall. Son of a B! Is a passive-aggressive note necessary? You tell me.

Just dance!

Out late last night for work-related reasons, I did not post a picture, nor will I post a better-late-than-never one this morning. A picture will not do justice to the highlight of my day. 236 miles from New York City, the Penn State Nittany Lions kept their BIG DANCE hopes alive. 64-63 over Illinois. #23 Illinois. Check out the attached videos. Well done, boys!

Did you hear the news? Free coffee!

Every floor's kitchen in my building has a flat screen TV, typically tuned to the always relevant CNN. The TV is typically ignored, except on the rare occasion that someone I'd rather not speak with decides they need a coffee break at the exact time I do. Always a go-to when 30 seconds of awkward weather/sports/is-it-Friday-yet talk just seem unbearable.

The TV on my floor died recently, and given the market conditions it will not be replaced until the 2012 Olympic Games (assuming the Olympics don't go bankrupt and implode on themselves like a dying star). Never fear, b/c the witty accountants are here! Check out today's headlines for the day's top news stories.

Labatt Blue and wings - you should be jealous.

Oh the twisted perks that make me continue to appreciate my job. Most people would loathe the idea of a day trip to Buffalo, New York; especially if the said trip included two flights, a rental car, and two tediously long cab rides. As I write this in the back of cab #2, I'm appreciating today more so than most of my recent work experiences. I was not stuck behind a desk. I'm currently coming up on the sexiest nighttime skyline this side of the Atlantic. And finally, I experienced an American classic - Buffalo chicken wings.

I first tried hitting up the original for lunch, but given a short window of opportunity combined with a long line of devoted Buffalonians, my hopes were quickly dashed. Feeling defeated, my hopes were revitalized by an email from a colleauge who wanted wings (and a reason to skip his wife's home cooking) just as madly as I did. Duff's it was.

Medium-hot sauce. The only bleu cheese I'll eat (don't think about asking for ranch like I did). Labatt Blue. What more could you ask for? I am a true believer that Buffalo wings are indeed better in their hometown than anywhere else. If you are a food connoisseur or just a fan of the Super Bowl staple, a trip to Buffalo is worth it. Just be sure to visit in July, as it was 8 degrees today.

I almost forgot! Sneaking the leftovers home through security was a success. Only in Buffalo. I can only imagine trying to get 10 boney objects through at JFK. Hilarity and/or intense questioning would ensue, I'm sure.

School is closed.

Six to twelve inches my ass. Another over dramatized snow storm has come and gone (almost). The second half of the storm is here now but with streets plowed and sidewalks salted, there’s little doubt that the only accumulation will be on rooftops, parked cars, and city parks. The picture attached is of my way to work in Astor Place. Got to love the already darkening snow on the street. The East Village will be full of the grayish muck for weeks.

Good luck to those of you braving the elements in the name of gainful employment. To those of you still job searching, enjoy the snow day.

Wake up - Day 1.

Alright kids, let's do this thing. March is here and Mother Nature is reminding us New Yorkers that we're not out of the woods yet. Snow flurries are falling gently from the sky as people are outside for need-to-be reasons only. Me? I'm hunkered up inside playing it safe. Just made some coffee and looking forward to an afternoon of catching up on Google Reader (specifically this, this, and that).