Something very strange happened during night one in NYC. Barbie and I shared a "Full" bed. We are normally in a "California King." I'd bother to look up the dimensions of both, do the math, and tell you the percentage of bed space loss to demonstrate the point, but I think you get the picture. And the numbers are irrelevant, because we slept wonderfully. What? All those hours spent at hotel desks getting a King, saying that a Queen is unacceptable, and we sleep fine in a Full? Okay, maybe the kitty inspired preventive Nyquil had an effect.
Regardless, I thought we'd start day two, which is technically the first day in 2010 that I awoke in NYC, with a Colossal Waste meta-shot.
There it is. The Waste footshot, with the Dell Mini featuring the Waste itself. Hey, we're on the Lower East side and a walk to the store involves passing an art gallery or four. How could we not get a little self referential here?
Rain. We knew it was going to rain every day that we would be in NYC. And we didn't care at all. How exactly does rain effect meeting friends for lunch and dinner every day, and telecommuting to Los Angeles via laptop? Plus, who does not love the Sound of rain? At this moment it is raining very hard out there, 24 hour after this pic was taken, and sitting on a warm bed in a warm room hearing it rain in the background is something I could sell to aging yuppies as a sort of pseudo relaxation room concept. What do you think? Take a defunct tanning place, turn all the rooms into heated beds and play rain on an iPod for 30 minutes while they lay there and relax. Who wants to invest?
After the Nyquil wore off, which is a lie because Nyquil never wears off, but after I was able to overcome the Quil and get out of bed, I was greeted by my New Best Friend in NYC.
Oreo. I am personally mulling over new names for Oreo. Denise just got him as a foster cat, for this adorable guy was abandoned in the basement of a Brooklyn candy store. He was rescued, and Denise opened her home to foster him, and it only took a day or two for her to realize that he must stay. Yay to Denise. I'm not much into the animal rights routine, but I do feel pretty strongly that people who get animals from pet stores when there's animals needing rescue need a mild punch in the face.
As a rescued cat, Denise is free to rename Oreo. Considering I have a friend in the UK whose black & white kitty is named Oreo, I do feel strongly that my Oreo deserves a more unique moniker. Plus, let's face it. Staying with Oreo leads to the danger of free advertising for a global conglomerate, and nobody wants to see that. Therefore... a quest has begun. I'm thinking... Monroe. Or not.
Barbie telecommuting with the distinct advantage of being 3 hours ahead of Los Angeles.
The view off the back balcony. Funny how rain is in such motion that you cannot really photograph it. (Without wicked lighting and shutter speed setups.) You can really only photograph rain once it lands.
Oreo sat just so at my feet. He was daring me to take his picture. He wanted to be part of the Waste. I do not like the name Monroe. I lean towards Sparky. Which I'm pretty sure is what I called my friend's cat in San Francisco because he had a Battlestar Galactica name I could never remember.
Time to head out for lunch.
Denise's building on the Lower East Side, just below the East Village. I like the red accent on the front. Seems appropriate that Denise, who is an interior designer, lives in a building with a design element like that.
I realize now that I should take pictures of the ground, to show you the rain.
We walked over to Frank's 17, a block away, for lunch. I realize now that you might have wanted to see the bowl of cereal that I had for breakfast, just to be silly and point out that not all meals are fabulous experiences.
Inside Frank's 17. I guess you call this a hole in the wall. Ten two-person tables.
Mrs. Howard can be in the blog and have her privacy with a well-taken movement shot. The menu at Frank's is very healthy and broad. In fact, I would guess that some would call it California-esque, with all the vegan dishes and such.
Barbie's butternut squash soup.
My escarole and cannelini bean soup.
His name is Basil. Now, if you were into proper pronunciation, you might say that, "Baz-ill." Like Basil Fawlty from John Cleese's masterpiece Fawlty Towers. But Basil's parents say it, "Bay-sill," like the herb. So this poor little dude is going to have to hear pesto jokes for the rest of his life, until he changes to the British version or tells people, "Hi, I'm Bill."
Bad pic. They turned down the lights. But that's Barbie's big plate o' prosciutto. I didn't have any. By choice. Weird, I know.
Barbie also got a mushroom with truffle oil croquette.
Me? I ordered the "Farro with parmesan." If I ate this meal every day for the rest of my, I'd live a very long time. Delicious, too.
We stopped at a bodega for some supplies and then went back to the apartment for some more work time. And cat time. Eventually Denise was home from work and it was time to go meet my friend Mez for dinner.
When our cab came up behind this, we walked the last three blocks to the restaurant. We happens to be Denise, Barbie, and yours truly.
Here we are, at an accidental theme for the trip. I could call Oreo "Kittichai" but I'm not sure it works. KC? By the way, if you pronounce that as "Kitty Chai," you are saying "Cat Tea," in Hindi. I think I may try KC or Casey on Oreo and see how it feels.
Waiting in the bar area at Kittichai was Barbie's friend Jodi and my friend Mez, sitting a few feet apart not knowing that they would be eating dinner together.
Don't you love restaurants that take space which could be devoted to more tables and instead uses it for something beautiful?
We sat down, looked at the menu, and Barbie quickly suggested we do the tasting menu. In order to keep everyone at the table alive, we ordered the tasting menu with the caveat that they leave out shrimp and nuts, so that the people at our tables with allergies would not need me to stick my fingers down their throats to keep the airway open. I'm pretty sure that's the wrong thing to do, but damn if I wouldn't give it a shot.
Very tasty salmon.
Sauteed veggies. Very tasty.
Whole fish, with fried fish pieces inside, with ginger curry. Way tasty and visually stimulating.
Broiled coconut chicken breast.
Pineapple braised short ribs in green curry. You cannot have too much curry. You know that curry just might prevent Alzheimer's? Look it up.
Banana spring rolls with burnt honey ice cream.
Flourless Valrhona chocolate cake wrapped in a banana leaf.
Somehow, I did not take pictures of the first course. Shame on me. Suffice to say I'd eat at cat tea anytime.
After dinner we walked over to a smoking bar where Mez could say hello to a friend, so I waited outside. My lungs just cannot take it. Since we couldn't hang there, Denise suggested we zip over to Arlene's Grocery.
Every city has a bar where bands play before they get their start. This is one of them.
Loud music and darkness. We hung out in the bar. I would have loved to see some live music, but because my wife is forcing me to be in Europe again this summer I am going to miss San Diego Comic-Con for the second year in a row, which means I don't get to have my annual lunch alone with Mez at Hooters (okay, we did it once, but I think it could become a tradition), which meant that it made more sense to sit where we could hear each other.
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Outside, in the rain, for a smoke break. Which technically was yours truly standing a few feet away from Mez while he smoked, but the rainy air was refreshing and we could hear each other more easily.
Back inside, as we got close to our own personal closing time, we were treated to a demonstration of the Handcuff belt. A belt that you can use to keep your pants on, but when you take your pants off, this belt has a few extra loops that allow other uses.
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Haha YES. Gaius makes his roundabout debut on the Waste.
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