Walked out to grab some gnocchi from Lamarca this afternoon (after Lilit’s lunch from the same place made me hongry) and, struck by the glorious weather, and my subsequently soggy armpits, I sent the following text to Ten Friends Most Likely To Respond:

Batting cages.  Water guns.  (balloons?)  Maybe a lesbian or 2, not sure, havent worked that thru.  Just planting seeds here.  Who’s on board conceptually?

On-hell was the quickest to reply, with

Titties, too?  I am down!

Ah, Angel.  And Frankfurt gave me a

Who this?  - nf

Jesus, guy.  I showed you how to program my name in a few weeks ago.  Try and keep up.  Finally, my girl Houser, who I’ve known since The Academy, replied with

What are you talking about?

What the hell.  Here I think I’ve struck gold with a brilliant text, and all I get is confusion and, well, titties.

Alright, so maybe throwing in the lesbians was confusing the issue.  I just thought they could show us some good batting form, ya know?  Now that I’ve got my bat out of my car trunk and all.

I always used to giggle on the inside when I spotted a fellow robot sporting stripes - on - stripes.

This morning, as I surveyed the options in my wardrobe for today’s board meeting, I was dismayed to find the following contents:

1. One (1) pair of pants (striped)
2. One (1) button-down (striped)

Sure, there was one (1) carnation pink button-down with Seek Chaos embroidered on the chest placket.  And yeah, there were two (2) solid white oxfords, but they’re of the “buttoned collar and casual cotton worn best with khakis” variety.

So today, my friends.  Today, with regards to the stripage action.

I am that ass hat.

To do:  my friggin’ laundry. 

(Will knotting a sweater around my shoulders distract from all the stripes???) 

I’ve got a brand new GoldStar a/c from Home De Pot in my window (p.s.: what’s with the Energy Guide using prices from a 1995 gubmint electricity cost chart?!) which means:

• It’s hot outside
• It’s cold inside
• It’s time for NYC summer festivalia

The following to-dos caught my eyes:

>> Wednesday, June 13th: Booker T. & The MG’s with guest Sharon Jones

Haven’t heard of Sharon Jones and/or her Dap Kings? Oh heavens, trot over to iTunes and check her out. Free, 7 p.m., Rockefeller Park.

>> Wednesday, July 25th: Comedian Seth Herzog hosts NY’s best emerging Jewish artists in art, comedy, music, and film

The Zog is a genuinely nice guy (and reportedly funny comedian) that happens to live in a marginally renovated custodian’s closet. He also throws one helluva New Year’s bash! $25 / $30, 7 p.m., Museum of Jewish Heritage

>> Friday, August 3rd: A night of Billie Holiday, remixed and reimagined

This has the potential to be Orville Redenbacher-weird, but it might also be bad-ass. (I can vaguely hear echoes of the cassette tape I wore out in the summer of ‘97, a hip hop track that sampled her… who was that?!) Free, 7 p.m., South Street Seaport, Pier 17.

>> Friday, August 10th: Au Revoir Simone !!!

One of my new favorite bands! If you haven’t heard of ‘em, take a listen to their twilight-sounding Backyard of Our Neighbors (released as Through the Backyards), or their primary-colored Sad Song. Free, 7 p.m., South Street Seaport, Pier 17.

>> Friday, August 17th: The National

Anyone who reads the comments on xoxoANP! knows how excited four of my seven blog readers will be about this one.

… these Brooklyn-based Ohians bring their Americana, bar-soaked gems to the pier for this amazing night.

Tsk, tsk to the copy-editor on this one; every good Midwesterner knows it’s Ohioans. Duh!

Haven’t heard ‘em? Listen to a sample of Slow Show. Free, 7 p.m., South Street Seaport

And, in the perfect musically orgasmic build-up, the free music bliss-fest culminates on

>> Friday, August 24th with Camera Obscura.

Blissful indie pop from … Glasgow

I don’t know where Glasgow is (Scotland? Sweden? Whatever!) but I know I am loving me some Camera O. Where to begin my gentle yet definite brainwashing of y’all that they are tops?

1. Come Back Margaret
2. Lloyd, I’m Ready to be Heartbroken
3. Let’s Get Out Of This Country
4. I Need All The Friends I Can Get
5. If Looks Could Kill

God, all so good! It’s like 1955 union Clap Your Hands intersection canary yellow intersection carnation pink!

I’ll be the jackalack singing aloud while flailing my limbs about in my own personal dork-off on the splintery boards of the South Street Seaport. Free, 7 p.m.

The best is saved for last.

>> Saturday, August 25: Chew on this!

Learn about the history of chewing gum, Adams NY Gum #1 and make a pack of chewing gum from scratch.

Hello-o-o-o-o, and you don’t even need to forge your moms’ .sig on the permission slip. Free with museum admission, 1 p.m., South Street Seaport Museum, 12 Fulton Street.

OMG, time to put this all in my planner. And to think I still have to go through that thing that my girl Aleeeece sent me (the mondo NYC cultural listings guide).

!!!

Those are the two words I did not spell correctly in eighth grade at a spelling bee and at Spell Bowl, respectively.

Now, any ass-hat who was writing down the word opportunity would see that it was misspelled.  And, to my best friend’s point just now:

Spelling out loud doesn’t make any sense…  When you’re talking, you don’t need to spell.  It’s when you’re writing that you need to spell.

Yet again, ALO Esq.’s logic is unassailable.  (<-- The lack of a red squiggly line underneath that word suggests to me that I’ve spelled it correctly.)

And in my own defense, the poopy-headed emcee at Plymouth Middle School (PMS!  we would giggle on the school bus en route to any manner of athletic events) mispronounced cadre as cage-ry.  Harrumph.

Tonight, ABC, 8 pm, the national spelling bee.  Bust out the orthodontia and start droppin’ consonants like Hiroshima drops bombs.

Word.  (<-- Irresistible.)

I need to go dancing and get my rump shake on. (This is what happens when I listen to Hieroglyphics.)

My friend Raoul just sent me an email:

Dear Friends,

On Tuesday, May 8, I will be joining my pal, Nancy Horowitz, and the founder of Room to Read, John Wood, to host an event in New York to support the building of a school in central Vietnam.  Room to Read, if you’ve not already read about it, or seen John on a variety of TV programs (most recently Oprah), is one of the more impressive global non-profits that I have come across, and the work that they have been able to accomplish in a short time through building libraries and schools throughout the world is breathtaking.

The event is FREE to attend, so please come out and encourage your friends and loved ones, too…

I am so there, and not just to check out Raoul’s current hairstyle.  Check out the Room to Read website for more info about the organization.  And head to Tibet House, 22 West 15th Street, 2nd Floor, on Tuesday May 8, 2007 from 6:30 - 9:00 p.m.

Words.  Ain’t it nice to be able to read ‘em?

The excessive NYC rain is simply the tri-state area’s way of celebrating the Thai New Year, and while I celebrated this year by

• Overdosing on Thai food Friday night
• Thinking about visiting the temple
• Circling the films of the Thai Film Festival that look interesting

I think I will raincheck (literally) bullet two until next year and check out some of the films that are showing next weekend.

Happy New Year, everyone!

I’ve enjoyed Katherine’s photography for a decade now, ever since I first modelled nude for her during her undergraduate study with such boldface names as G. Crewdson. I salivated at each MFA open studio she held, hightailed it to Berlin to enjoy her group show at OPEN, felt bad that I missed her solo shows in Munich and Berlin, and almost a year ago made her aching Chandelier the centerpiece of my growing art collection.

I know that Katherine is someone that I, in time, I’ll say, “Wow. I never would’ve thought that my life’s path would intersect with a woman like this.”

I know this because I’ve already said it.

Scene: Anthropologie. I see a book celebrating the art of a woman whose name sounds familiar. “Candida Hoffer… Candida Hoffer … why does this name ring a bell?”

And then it dawns on me. Candida Hoffer owns an entire collection of Newbegins.

If I get back from New Haven in time on Saturday to attend, I’m there. Text me. Join.

He used to run the website that published my anonymous dating diary in ‘99 - ‘00.

I met her over entrees via DinnerGrrls.org.

Imagine my surprise when I saw them together having dinner at Zen Palate.

They’re still together, and now this li’l chiquitita’s having her first opening on G-point’s Manhattan Ave., right around the corner from the new home of do-gooder Stevie B.:

I’mma roll through on my way home from work on Thursday.

In the meantime, you can check out my girl’s Flickr pix to whet your (zen) palate.

Four Norwegians and one point five Asian-American Hoosiers walk into a …

Romanian diner in Fort Greene for Sundy* brunch, then Kenny’s delicious brick oven pizzeria in Billyburg for Mundy* dinner.

(Factoid: one of Kenny’s former waitresses is an Asian-American Muncie native and Academy grad.)

I go totally mongs over the best tee shirt I’ve seen in a long time …

… fill my belly with the yumminess known as chicken and mushroom and cream sauce over a pasta whose name starts with o, and throw John over my shoulder twice.

Anders wins the award for dumb jock of the day by not being able to take a picture of the man-over-shoulder spectacle. (I joke! Mr. I-Play-Volleyball is large enough to crush me like a bug. I choose not to get on his bad side.)

Norwegians and Academites alike love Kenny’s and make no additional commentary about the:

• Largeness of our stoves
• Roundness of our municipal garbage cans
• Loudness of our voices
• “Inconvenience” of tax and tip not being bundled into the price of food
• Popularity of gold as vehicle color

I wish I weren’t so busy these days! I could spend more time getting to know them in a less time-constrained manner. Siemens non-drone with quick wit? Volleyball player that’s ten feet tall? Mustachioed man who sticks tobacco in his lip and claims that pot smokers in Norway are low class? DUDE WITH SHIRT THAT READS MONGO?!?!

Yeah. John has good people in his life for sure.

Ooops, my kitchen timer just went off. Time to stop blogging and move to the next item on my to-do list. Must! Achieve!

* As pronounced by Daniel Kaye “You kids’ll be sorry when I’m dead and gone” P., poppa to ANP