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More Places for My Ass

Last night Dan from Emeco, the chair people, gave a talk at Design Within Reach about 10 years, 10 collaborations of fancy chairs with even fancier designers/architects/whatever. You may or may not know that I blog on their behalf. I blog about chairs. Fancy fucking chairs made out of recycled Bud Light with Lime cans. They really are nice, I’m not just saying that. Anyway at the end of the night they had a drawing for two chairs, one by Sir Norman Foster and one by Not-Sir-Just-Regular-Mr. Frank Gehry.

They pulled a name out, some dude name Rodrigo, and he wasn’t there. So they were like, OK we’ll call Rodrigo, and then some guy in the audience yells out NO YOU HAVE TO BE HERE, COME ON. So they pull another one out. The someone says OH SHE WENT HOME DAMN SHE’S GONNA BE PISSED. So they pull another name out and it’s my good friend Marc McQuade! He immediately sprouts a gigantic boner on his face. He wins the Norman Foster 20-06 chair.

How dope is that? So pretty. When you sit in it, you feel like you can take over the world in a comfortable and very stylish way. Like, I SHALL CONQUER YOU, WORLD, BUT FIRST, LOOK AT MY ASS. LOOK AT HOW NICE IT LOOKS IN THIS BOSS CHAIR.

So then they start the drawing for the Gehry chair. They pull a name, it’s Rodrigo again. Padding the pot. Rodrigo, if you’re reading this, shame on you, loser. So then they pull out a name again and IT’S ME OMFG. I win the Superlight by Frank Gehry.

OMFGGGG! I SWEAR it was not rigged. I was like I really shouldn’t take this since I do stuff with Emeco and a nice gentleman in the audience says oh whatever, you deserve it honey!And I’m like, you’re right. I DO deserve it. Is there also a drawing for a yacht? Because I deserve a yacht. I can’t even drive one, but I’d like to say, oh yeah, I was hanging out on my yacht this weekend. This is because I want to sound like a complete douchetard.

So Marc and I took them home. Like take-out. I’ll have the Buddha’s delight, the low mein, and oh I’ll take that Superlight. Thanks. Oh what’s that? The chair is free? Well that is very nice of you. Oh? And I get a fortune cookie too? Does my fortune say that I’m a WINNER?

I’m not sure what to do with my chair. I’m out of space, that much is clear. I have more chairs than ass cheeks right now. I’m thinking of mounting it on the wall, which would be absolutely hilarious.

In OTHER news, I got the motherfucking SODA CLUB. It is a SELTZER MAKER. Holy crap. Do you guys know about this? It’s a little carbonating device. You fill a bottle with water, inject it with bubbles, and then YOU HAVE SELTZER. You might think hmm, I really don’t drink a lot of seltzer. BUT GUESS WHAT? You will if you have this. I can’t even drink flat water anymore. Like water without bubbles? Why even bother living?

So now I will start making my own sodas. Like sparkling juices n’ stuff. OH YEAH. DON’T BE JEALOUS. It’s also a greener alternative, but really, you don’t buy it to be BFFs with Mother Earth. You buy it because YOU ENJOY WATER WITH BUBBLES. Who doesn’t like bubbles? Assholes, that’s who. Just kidding. Well, not really. Anyway I got mine on Ebay for cheaper. It’s already paid for itself. So crisp and refreshing.

Posted July 17th, 2009 in design, food, NYC, parlor tricks | 4 Comments »

Holy Crap

I walked into the office today and saw this in the lobby! WTF? Somewhere a church is missing something.

My co-worker says she took it off the street and put it in our lobby and waiting for her brother to help her take it home. She wants to put it in her backyard and grow plants in it which is AWESOME. It is almost worth moving just so I could have a garden to grow plants on this. Donations are appreciated, obvz.

Posted June 23rd, 2009 in NYC, parlor tricks, WTF | 3 Comments »

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS MYSTERY.

MY APARTMENT SMELLS LIKE VOMIT. I DID NOT VOMIT. HOWEVER, IT SMELLS LIKE VOMIT, IT IS A MYSTERY. I MUST WRITE IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE ONE CANNOT DISCUSS MYSTERIES WITHOUT WRITING IN ALL CAPS.

FOR EXAMPLE, WHICH IS MORE MYSTERIOUS:

Who really killed John F. Kennedy?

WHO REALLY KILLED JOHN F. KENNEDY?

SEE THE SECOND OPTION IS MUCH MORE MYSTERIOUS. IT MAKES ME WANT TO SOLVE THE MYSTERY SO IT IS NO LONGER A MYSTERY AND ONLY FACT.

THIS BRINGS ME BACK TO THE ORIGINAL POINT, WHICH IS, WHY DOES MY APARTMENT SMELL LIKE VOMIT IF I AM THE ONLY ONE HERE AND I, IN FACT, DID NOT VOMIT.

I CANNOT FIND THE SOURCE. THUMBS DOWN SITUATION. ALSO MYSTERIOUS SITUATION.

Posted May 7th, 2009 in not raging, parlor tricks | 8 Comments »

BLOCKED!

I realize I haven’t been blogging much these days. Mostly because I have writer’s block. It’s pretty bad. Really bad. I’m having problems. And it’s not like one of those problems you can throw money at or one of those problems where you can just amputate something or one of those problems you can just throw something out and start over like a souffle or a custard. What do you do when your brain refuses to help you out? I say, hey brain, let’s write about this, and the brain says, I have an idea, why don’t I suckerpunch you in the face or stick a shiv in your gut. Pow! And then I say, but brain, seriously, it’s time to get serious. We need to write something that doesn’t suck and the brain is like, oh my god, you totally need to handwash that scarf right now.

So I handwash that scarf and now it’s ruined. The yarn is like falling apart, I guess the detergent was too heavy duty (Sorry Erin, it was the one you made me).

So then I’m like, OK brain, let’s do this. I’m totally serious this time. We’re gonna squeeze something out. We will write anything. We’ll write an essay, or a letter, or EVEN A PIECE OF FICTION GOOD GOD HOW HORRIFYING and then my brain is like, you know, this isn’t working out. I want to break up with you. I want to see other people. And I’m like, dude you can’t leave me just because things are tough, we’ve been together for a long time, for as long as I can remember, you can’t do this to me and my brain is like oh yeah? Watch me. Then I hear the door slam and if I (only) had a brain, I’d think oh my god, I think my brain just left me and is never coming back. I mean if I were my brain, I’d leave too.

So now my brain is totally at the club,doing the cabbage patch on the dance floor, doing coke with, like, everyone from Gossip Girl and probably getting it on with James Franco or Peter Petrelli from Heroes and I’m sitting here, with a wet scarf on my table. The good news is that I washed the walls in the bathroom so now they’re not as moldy.

So hello, friends. If you see my brain, tell her I miss her and want to get back together again. We’re meant to be together, like Hall and Oates.

Posted March 30th, 2009 in lessons learned, not raging, parlor tricks, shame | 13 Comments »

Cold As Ice

You know what would be awesome?

If I had hot water.

It would be so awesome.

I’ve only heard good things about hot water.

What’s interesting is that I pay for hot water every month.

And yet I don’t have it.

But, as I said, I’m sure it’s very nice. Maybe one day I’ll have it so I can know how awesome it is. I mean, it could certainly suck. That’s a possibility. Maybe it might be too hot and I have to turn on the cold. I am familiar with cold water.

In related news, this is my new desktop photo. Why? Because it made me laugh. He’s so unabashedly a douche it’s almost refreshing. He’s skateboarding with training wheels. Look, I do not understand it, I only understand that he is a douchetruck full of douche. Enjoy, friends

Posted March 18th, 2009 in parlor tricks | 9 Comments »

Mi Ventana

This is how the window situation is being “addressed.” Yes that’s a cooking spoon. It’s the only way the window will kind of close but not really close. MacGruber!

But what will I use to mix things? A mystery. A conundrum.

Posted March 14th, 2009 in parlor tricks | 7 Comments »

I! Live! In! A! Dump! (still)

My window just broke. The springs snapped because I have cheap windows. I should get paid for these windows. They are obviously some off brand shit. I don’t even know brands of windows but I’m sure these are from Ned’s Discount Window Warehouse and Buffalo Wings. Actually, I’m surprised I even have windows in this shit shack. I’m surprised my landlord didn’t just sledgehammer a hole and put a trash bag over it ta daaaa! Curtains! So tomorrow I will call the super who will call the landlord who will call the handyman who will come by and say yes it’s broken and he’ll call the window dude who will order the parts, but they won’t come for a week, just sit tight, ok? But here’s the thing: the window is open and won’t stay closed. It is going to be cold. I’m busting out the sleeping bag perhaps. I will be camping in my own home. Under the stars, at one with nature, etc. I will read some Thoreau. Then I will plot some deaths. I’m pretty sure Thoreau did that. He wrote about it in his book, Massacre at Walden Pond: Ruminations on Transcendentalism. This, of course, wasn’t nearly as good as Aesthetic Papers and the Goblet of Fire. But whatever. I’m not gonna be a literary snob. No one likes a snob.

And on a separate note: I love Excel.

Posted March 12th, 2009 in NYC, parlor tricks | 3 Comments »

Snow Job

Jomo left his basketball here about a year ago. I keep it on the fire escape next to my plunger and wireless thermometer/barometer. Wilson looks cold.

I am boiling water to keep my apartment warm. These are tough times, friends. My landlord us “being green” by lowering the thermostat to zero.

Posted March 2nd, 2009 in NYC, parlor tricks | 3 Comments »

I! Live! In! A! Dump!

Step 1: Wake up very early morning, shivering. In tight ball. Hands in fists. Head under covers, under pillows. Confusion. Where is heat? Yet another mystery. There is no heat. Nope not even a little. There is a lot of hopelessness and pain, however. A never-ending, recycling supply of sadness. Try to sleep. Pull knees to chest, much like an earthquake drill from grade school. Listen for soothing clanging of radiator. There is no clanging. Only the crackling sound of emo tears freezing against the face.

Step 2: Find the will to leave bed, which isn’t particularly warm, but warmer than the rest of the apartment. Turn on hot water for shower. Wait.

Step 3: Wait.

Step 4: Wait.

Step 5: Wait.

Step 6: There is something wrong. Water is not becoming hot. One might consider it “tepid,” but really, let’s be honest here. When performing a shower, there are only two temperatures. “Hot” and “not hot” which is basically “cold”. No one ever says, I can’t wait to take a tepid shower. You can take a hot one or a cold one, but a tepid one satisfies no one unless you enjoy taking a shower in your own urine, because that is how it feels. Anyway, it appears the hot water is not working.

Step 6: Give up. Turn off the faucet. The knob spins and spins, but water does not shut off tightly. The knob is broken. This happens occasionally, every few months. The super has replaced the knob and washers several times but eventually the knob gets stripped. First the hot knob, then the cold knob. Then the hot knob again. In this instance, it is the cold knob. Which wasn’t even turned on, and yet the knob is spinning around like a top. Sigh. The super will yell in some language. It does not sound Russian. Perhaps a cousin to Russian. Mostly it sounds like this: BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH I FIX LAST TIME BLAH BLAH WHY YOU BREAK BLAH BLAH BLAH. Explain that no, I did not break it. Why would I break a knob? There are better things to break. I do not stand there turning on the knob and then turning off the knob and then turning on the knob and then turning off the knob. Wee! This is fun! No. I do not do this. However, this explanation will be ignored. It will get fixed only temporarily. Then, few months later, it will happen again. It is a cycle. The vicious kind that breaks your heart, almost as bad as it was broken only the day prior with the untimely expiration of the cottage cheese.

Step 7: Go to work. Hair, a little greasy. Hands, very cold. Soul, very sad.

Posted February 20th, 2009 in parlor tricks, rage, shame | 9 Comments »

A Place for your Buttocks

I posted over at Emeco, the fancy chair people. They should just change their name to that. Fancy Chair People. So much better than A Place for Your Buttocks. You can read it here. Thanks to everyone who submitted photos of their chairs long, long ago. I realize I couldn’t use all the chair photos that were sent to me, so I had to carefully select them. You may be able to guess whose chair belongs to who. Or, you might not. It’s hard to say. Chairs are very mysterious things.

Now I must decide on what chair to get. I should probably continue the stacking chair collection, since they make great kitchen chairs. I don’t know if you guys know this, but I spill a lot (HAHAHA) so getting a non-porous material is highly necessary. But I love the Nine-0 by Sottsass, It is rowr. They have it at Design Within Reach and all I wanted to do was sit in it and poke customers with a stick. I love poking people with sticks. If you ever see me carrying a stick you should run away because I will seriously poke the living crap out of you. It is so empowering. Poke, poke. Anyway I’ve been trying to bid on the old Sottsass typewriters from Ebay for a long time and always some buttwipe steals it from me. Everyone on Ebay is a buttwipe except for me. I also like the Norman Foster one and the Superlight by Gehry. He is SUCH a douche but I like the chair. You are probably wondering where I put all my chairs. That is a good question. I’m about to hang them from the ceiling, like a mobile, or mount them on the wall. It could be kind of cool actually. But, like, totally stupid. I need to get a grown-up’s apartment. Maybe I will “lend” them out to friends, but they have to do the Moma thing where they put up a placard about whose house it came from. Whose house? Run’s house, obviously.

Also, finally, thank you for all the get well wishes. I have eaten a container of soup, it has remained in the belly. I’ve moved on to pretzels. Also chocolate covered raisins so it looks like the bitch is back. I think I lost a little weight so I have a lot of ground to make up. I want french fries. If you are a french fry you should probably stay away from me.

Posted February 13th, 2009 in design, food, parlor tricks | 1 Comment »

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