Brooklyn sunset.

I didn't inherit mom's painting skills.

Snowy end to February.

On my way to lunch with KFizzle.

Pink is meant for lipstick.

Lipstick. Not cars. Especially not luxury cars.

Picking my battles.

There are a few instances in one's life that half-assing it exposes the ugly truth.

Doing so at work will get you fired; on the golf course you'll lose credibility; when it comes to board games you will downright embarrass yourself.

I am not afraid to admit where my strengths and weaknesses rest in the latter realm. Shockingly - or not so much - I dominate at games that involve acting or talking matters out (Cranium's purple and green cards and all aspects of Catchphrase come to mind). Operation? Not made for these shaky hands. We played Life a lot as kids, but let's be real. Life was a wild card; that game is always determined the moment you spin the wheel for your "career path." Doctor? You're golden. Salesman? Might as well pack it up and call it quits.

Scrabble falls into the category of games BK should avoid at all times. It's like attempting a crossword puzzle, but instead of figuring out what 23 down is, you are slapped around by people who know how to ride themselves of a q without holding a u (the answer - qat).

So tonight, as the usual Winesday crowd complained about not enough vowels (or was it too many vowels?) I watched Olympic hockey. Yup.

Cap guns in the subway.

This sideshow was set up at the Delancey F stop. Reasons he's an amateur include but are not limited to:

He's a grown man covered in Home Depot spray paint.

Who picks an F train platform at 10:30 in the morning to set up shop?

Who thinks an F platform - any F platform - is a decent idea? Twelve customers an hour (3 of them being squatters)

The cap gun did not shoot caps. Lame.

He did, however, have one of those whistlers in his mouth. Points for that. Zooot. Zoooooot.

Either a ginormous child or an unemployed basketball player.

Question - Who is the mastermind behind this mammoth snowman?

No idea how long this snowman giant has been around, but judging by the lack of snow elsewhere (besides under the cars) my guess is sometime. No really. This this is monstrous.

Dear 'ole Abe.

Okay, okay, back to the updates.

Mom, Pops, and I took a Big Onion walking tour of the Union Square and Gramercy area of town. Sunny skies, storytelling, and Honest Abe. No idea he was on the north side of Union Square.

Welcome to Brooklyn.

I'm not quiet about the fact that I spend most of my time not enjoying Brooklyn's finest offerings. CW's birthday a few weeks ago was one of my first adventures into the great unknown of the skinny jean world. Not only did I survive (I'll be honest, I had my doubts), but it made me begin to think that there really is something to this place.

Tonight the bar was raised.

My friend CM and I hit the Brooklyn pavement for what turned out to be a little tour of Billyburg. We started at Spuyten Duyvil, a charming (and packed) international beer bar. We found a corner past the bar to stand out of the way of that constant artery of moving bodies. You know, the one that travels from door to bar to bathrooms and back again; it's the bar equivalent of a riptide.

ANYWAY.

We sucked down a few cold drafts here while commenting on everyone and everything. And by we, I meant me. After I had had my fill of forced irony (and two delicious brews), we were off to what would become an epic journey back to my childhood.

The second stop-off was Full Circle Bar on Grand Street. One click to their website and it's easy to see why we were there (besides the $3 cans of Genny Light) - skee-ball.

I consider myself a pretty humble individual when it comes to sport and athleticism; very rarely will you hear be reminiscing about my adolescent victories, but skee-ball falls into a category of special situation. Understand that I was raised on two things: fireworks and boardwalk games. My grandmother lived in the quiet town of Pt. Pleasant Beach, and I spent many a rainy day at the Jenkinson's boardwalk arcades. Water gun into the clown's mouth? Please, I'll win you biggest stuffed bear. The claw game? Other kids used to give me their money in order to taste victory. Skee-ball? Why don't you ask CM? She learned the hard way.

Welcome to Brooklyn.

Birthday kisses.

After an open house in our apartment; after dinner; after polishing off our stock in wine and Bud Light - Sheena and I discovered we had a problem. It was only 10pm. To move off the couch or not to; the proverbial Friday night question when living in Brooklyn.

Texts about a birthday party in the village were exchanged with another friend.

Do you want to go?
I don't know, do you want to go?
Sure. We're out of beer AND IT'S ONLY TEN.

The tipping point was had. Lorimer to 6th Ave, F to West 4th. Hellllllllo Friday night Bridge & Tunnel crowd; great to see you again. And by that I mean stab me in the eye with a melting ice cycle.

Birthday party on Macdougal. LK left her post-tequila calling card on the table.

Keeping guard.

Looking out.

Late night lights.

Walking home, late night.

Mmm, cow.

For whatever reason, it's been a while since I've had red meat. I'm not saying I usually gorge myself on cow on a regular basis, but my diet has been a little more Asian based recently (sidebar - do yourself a favor and order sesame noodles next time you're in the mood for takeout, then come back here and thank me). And I don't know about you, but I don't consider crispy beef anything close to red meat (or beef, for that matter).

So when a friend of mine suggested burgers in the East Village, I high-fived the idea and headed down to my old 'hood. We ended up at Paul's "Da Burger Joint" on Second Ave. A tiny pretentious-free grease stain in an otherwise over-marketed part of town, I was instantly excited thrilled. My cheddar bacon was a perfect medium rare, and my $3.75 Rolling Rock squared the meal off. Burgers, an Olympics-obsessed waitress, and a belly full of laughs later, it was off for a night cap.

How good is Paul's? The place was packed on a cold, idle Tuesday. Don't just take my word for it - NYMag listed them as one of the best burgers in the city. Sure, this puts them side by side with burgers from the likes of David Burke at Bloomingdale's, Minetta Tavern, and Brooklyn's Dumont. And rightfully so. A stack of napkin's and patriotic feelings come free with every bite at Paul's.

A holiday for some; for me, it was Monday.

I hope your President's Day was a thrill; i.e. fingers crossed that your company went Postal and gave you the day off.


For those of you who worked today, your consolation prize can be found here.

One request New Yorkers mysteriously follow.

Unwritten rules are everywhere. Yapping on the cellphone while riding the bus; working 9 to whenever-you're-done; chew with your mouth closed (PLEASE). Too many rules, official or otherwise. And New Yorkers don't feel bad about ignoring some when they deem appropriate. A few of my faves:

"Stand clear of the closing doors." What is THAT? Why even waste your time saying it? Hell, I stand IN the doors every chance I get. Why? Because I want to be the first one bolting out when the train hits the station. Why? Because I don't want to get stuck behind slow Charlie. Why? Have you SEEN the stairwells at Union Square? They make the spiral staircase in the belly of the Statue of Liberty feel like a dance floor.

Walk/Don't Walk - Even when the signs are working, no one pays attention to these. If there is a Frogger-like opening between the bread delivery truck and the Town Car, you can bet the farm that I'm taking it.

And then there's this one:


No please. No or else. Simple, straightforward, and mysteriously effective.

Un. Be. Lievable.

Unbelievable.

Whole Foods - Cajun shrimp. I don't have a clue what's goes into this concoction (nevermind, thank you Google) but they are devilishly addicting. My taste buds were blown.

Smile before looking both ways before crossing the street.

This character caught my eye as I was walking home from work who knows what. There are certainly worse kinds of graffiti, I suppose.

Just a buck.

Slice of pizza on St. Marks.
Half a hotdog from the corner cart.
2.2 minutes of cellular airtime.
Tipping a musical act on the subway.
Half a Starbucks coffee.

15 postcards from touristy Herald Square.

Snowwwwww.

Listen up, people. Most of you are complaining about the snow. Maybe that's because you're trapped in a cube (ahhh, one perk of temporary unemployment). Perhaps you don't have boots or misplaced your wool socks. Regardless of your ill excuse, I have this much sympathy for you.



It's February in New York. For those of you who consider this concrete jungle the center of the universe, that's fine. This proverbial center also happens to lie somewhere between the frozen tundra of Canada and the equator. Suck it up, bundle up, and wipe that scowl off your frostbitten face. Get outside and enjoy the snow while it's here. Here are a few pictures to whet your appetite if you can't be bothered to - or simply can't - leave your desk for ten minutes.

I wandered trudged through midtown, Central Park, and the LES this afternoon snapping away. Additional pictures (some of my favorites) can be found on my Flickr page.

Ivories on the tracks.

A solo piano is a welcoming softness to the otherwise screeching nuisance that is the West 4th Street stop.


I've seen the (self-titled) Crazy Piano Guy before; looking forward to the next time as well.

Hello old friend.

Bleeker Street tonight, enjoying Boston College's victory over Boston "your mascot is a lap dog" University in the Bean Cup. Walking back to the train I detoured to Washington Square Park to check out the arch, one of my favorite staples of the villages. Past the skateboarding kids taking advantage of the drained fountain I snapped a few photogs.


New Yorkers can thank the City Beautification movement of the late 1890's and early 1900's for the arch. I won't bore you with the history of the movement (boring it is not), but spend some time on Wiki if you want to know more.

Pepto, please.

The Saints won. My stomach lost.

Victory points go to the seven six layer dip and veggie chili and Velveeta mystery combination. Both are pictured here, devoured and destroyed.

My contribution? More consumption than production.

Do not be fooled.

Meet Maisy:

Say hi to Julius:


Did you ooh? Maybe awww?

Well don't. Don't be fooled. Their cute faces and matching sweaters mask their sinister plots to chew through messenger bags, hog the couch, and generally make one scream, Why are you DOING THAT?! on a semi-regular basis.

Reverse commute. In style.

Sonofabitch.

Somewhere between an early dinner at 88 Orchard and a cab ride out of the LES, I received a text regarding a prior commitment for Friday. The problem? The commitment was in New Jersey. At 8:30 in the morning. The day after my birthday.

Like I said. Sonofabitch.

Luckily my friend MS came to the rescue. One extremely generous offer on her part and a trip to the East 90's later, and I had a luxury ride available to me for an early morning trip to the Dirty.

6:30am - Rise & shine
7:00am - Departure
8:27am - Arrive at high school
8:30am - Talk, babble, & ramble
10:30am - Done
10:31am - Dazed & confused



Pictured above is my graduating class's gift to the school. Most schools have some sort of monument, plaque or 4ft x8ft sheet of plywood acknowledging the existence of school pride, right? Not Lenape. Nope - we made it nearly 30 years without one. What we lacked in school pride we made up for in indifference. I mean, it's hard to rally around anything when the most successful "athletic" team in school history was the academic quiz bowl.

Yes, you could have quiz bowl on the back of your varsity jacket. And yes, there was a "select bunch" that did. No, I did not have one of these precious gems.

Another year, another blog address.

Perhaps it's time I register bills26th.blogspot.com.


Thank you to everyone for the warm birthday wishes - whether on Facebook, over the phone, or in person.

It was a year ago that I tossed around the idea of this blog. It's been fun. Challenging. A pain in my (then) working ass. But I loved it. I still love it.

Cheers.

Sometimes the day can take an unexpected turn.

As my day took form, I thought I'd be here writing about the fact that Staten Island Chuck seriously effed this one up:


I'm not saying Chuck should have been able to predict the Human Bird Feeder would be such good friends with the winged rats of New York; check out the snow. We haven't had that since 2009. Way to go Chuck. You lost to the Al Roker of Groundhog Day. SonofaB.

But on my way home tonight I found myself walking to the front of a six train. Not by choice.

We were stopped and forced to walk to the front car because we hit something. Or someone. Let's not talk about it. Move along. Nothing to see here.

Serious drummer envy.

It's no secret that I'm a fan of street music. New York. Philly. Above Ground. Underground. Doesn't matter. Strike a chord or bang a drum bucket. I have a grand amount of respect for those who throw it down for all of society to see and hear. Most are decent. Some make you cringe. A small few really engage their audience.

Meet Mike Alaska.







An Alaskan from Texas? Who knows; I don't. But his drumming is nonetheless ridiculous.

In completely unrelated news, Staten Island Chuck is calling for an early spring. Sweet.

I'm one of them now.

I found myself back at 88 Orchard today, this time pulling up a spot by my lonesome. Laptop out, large coffee ordered, headphones on.

Heads down, thumbs up. Seven up.

I used to be generally curious about the coffee shop cult - type type typing away with a half drank cup of cold coffee next to them. Hoarding every four top with their expansive spread of Macbook, notebooks, and various electronic gizmos. Why don't they have jobs? Is this what professional bloggers do? But here I was, struggling to find a spot near a power strip in order to feed my day-long hang out. Don't hate me; I found myself a two top to call home.


My roommate runs a great spot. The coffee is strong and fresh, and the staff is always warm and considerate. They're launching a new dinner menu this week that promises to be delicious. Check out the menu here. And they have booze now. Added bonus.