What do you do for a living? Seems like you're leading a pretty enjoyable lifestyle in NY!
I’m a Location Manager/Scout for feature films. I have some really amazing days and some really shitty ones. In general, though, I share the philosophy of Ian Holm’s character in the movie Big Night: “Bite your teeth into the ass of life”.
I just saw two police officers pull over a bicyclist aat the corner of St. Marks and Second Ave for speeding. The bike rider proceeded to curse them out loudly for the entire traffic stop. The officers stood and calmly wrote him a ticket as he excoriated them, insulting their mothers, questioning their heterosexuality, and ranting about the NYPD in general. As they were getting back in the patrol car he yelled something about not getting enough respect. One of the policemen cued his loudspeaker and announced:
"Respect is a two way street".
The bicyclist flipped them off over his shoulder as he started pedaling away. Still on the loudspeaker, the cop called out:
"It’s a red light, don’t do it!"
The bicyclist ignored them and pedaled through the red light. Sirens and lights go on, and the police pulled him over again twenty feet further down the road. Wish I could have hung around for round two but I had places to go.
My biggest irritant about the neighborhood is weekend parking. I’ll put up with the hordes of drunken idiots puking all over the sidewalks in the East Village on Friday nights. I’ll close the windows when wasted girls shriek at three in the morning. I’ll walk away from the idiots who clumsily try to grab my dog without asking late at night. But the parking situation is too annoying for me to let go.
Avenue B has weekend night restrictions; i.e. it is illegal to park there overnight. This is so cabs don’t have to block traffic to pick up or drop off passengers. With cars parked on the Avenue you get a constant blaring of horns, Yet invariably you see rows of parked cars with out of state plates and tickets on the windshield.
That’s what I saw as I came home from work late last night, only there was one empty spot in the line of illegally parked cars. I slid into the spot, grabbed the ticket off the jeep parked behind me and put it on my windshield. When I took Moe out this morning the Jeep I had snagged the ticket from had another and I did not.
Sorry, guy, but next time read the signs. Or park in a garage. Or stay the hell home in Jersey.
Had the great pleasure of attending my first Rangers game of the season. Watched them aggressively forecheck and dominate the game but still only squeak out a win on a late goal. So many lovely things about the evening. It was my wifey’s first Ranger game. My friend (and gracious host) Dylan brought his son Dylan, Jr. to see his first game and I got to experience that. The capper, though , was that my pal Chuck brought his lovely girlfriend Wendy and I got to explain to her that the fans were heckling a guy who has been retired for roughly twenty years.
Had the great pleasure of seeing my first live Rangers game of the season tonight as they squeaked one out against the Panthers. There were so many wonderful things about the evening. Took my wifey to her first Rangers game. Sat in a box with my buddy (and gracious host) Dylan as he brought his boy Dylan, Jr. to see his first live game as well. My pal Chuck and his girlfriend Wendy came as well and I got to explain to her that the Blueshirt faithful were heckling a player who must be retired for what, about twenty years now? Good times.
on the blu-ray disc of “The Town” that I got from Netflix. You can’t skip past them or even fast forward your way through. Jesu Christo folks, this is what makes people justify stealing your movies. I already paid for Netflix, I don’t need the advertising as well.
For those of you who were troubled by our last post, have no fear because The Glutton is alive and well and continuing to keep you up to date on the latest and greatest dining adventures for city dwellers. The quiet opening of the new Williamsburg Mexican restaurant, CANTINA ROYAL, is…
Moe and I took our first long walk of the early Spring this evening and it brought back a rush of emotions. I sometimes forget how much I love living in the East Village. It’s been home for twenty five years now, and I’m still here. Not many places I’d rather be. Sure Anguilla or Nevis are paradise for a short time. To live though, this is the place.
What set me off was so simple: a mere nod and a “Howyadoin” from an old acquaintance. The fellow in question was Billy, the longtime “tattooed man” at the Coney Island Freakshow. We don’t even know each other, really, only sharing a beer or a joint maybe a few times over many years. But we know each other as neighborhood guys, survivors, and that’s enough for the greeting. The mere fact that a guy like that is the normal standard in the hood gives me a chuckle, too.
Maybe it’s just that my office is right off Fifth Avenue, but St. Patrick’s Day is bugging the shit out of me right now. Next Columbus Day I’m dressing up like Snooki, pissing down my own leg and staggering drunkenly through the streets yelling “Viva Italia!” Maybe I’ll even fashion a g-string out of a slice of pepperoni pizza.