Beer Pong

On Saturday I played beer pong for the first time. It's an odd game. Ostensibly, the goal is to get drunk. However, winning means you drink less. I find this system of playing counterintuative, but that's how the game goes.

Regardless, I lost my first and only game. To be fair, we were winning by three cups and then my teammate Ducore was punched in the mouth. It threw off our zen. So he was bleeding and I was green (metaphorically speaking). Given those circumstances I think the outcome was inevitable. But in the end we did only lose by one cup and that was after the opposing team canceled our potential winning throw by sinking a return shot.

All in all it was a good party. At least as far as parties go, it was probably one of the more enjoyable I can remember attending. It's probably safe to say, though, that Parker cannot (remember attending).

A lot of other stuff went on this weekend, but it's late and I don't feel like writing about it.

Anyway, happy Passover.

Giant Roaches Eat My Dirty Socks

We've got a bug infestation. Our roach motels are full. There are no vacancies. As a result, we have a number of nomad roaches bumming around our kitchen at night. I do not fear roaches. As long as they don't infiltrate our food supplies, I think I can live in relative harmony with them. We seem to have come to some understanding. They can hang out in our dirty dishes while the lights are off, but they must be out of sight while the lights are on. Hanging out in our clean dishes is a no-no. Running around our countertops is verboten. In fact, they are not allowed anywhere that is visible if it is also clean. They are also not allowed to be out in groups of more than five at a time. These rules may seem a little fascist, but considering the alternative for them--being bludgeoned to death with a large blunt object--it's very reasonable.

More to the point, and by that I mean "on a completely different subject," I think Superman might be gay. This, frankly, would not surprise me. While I'm sure there are plenty of heterosexual men who love running around in a bright blue unitard, red cape, and with their underwear on the outside of their pants (or rather, legs of their unitard), it takes a certain kind of man to do it with such panache. And that kind of man is (probably) gay.

Welcome Home

This weekend brought soccer, symphony, and Smarmie, who made her triumphant return from Hawai'i in high fashion... well, looking for high fashion.

Recap:

Friday evening I met up with Liz and Smarmie for a pizza (what else would you expect?) dinner at John's Pizzeria in midtown. When the waiter asked what we'd like to drink, Smarmie ordered two pizzas. When the waiter finally understood that we didn't not want our pizzas liquified, but rather, round, and sliced in triangular shaped pieces, our he went on his merry. The pizza itself was pretty decent. Their crust could've used a extra charring. It lacked the body to withstand the weight of a plain cheese pizza, let alone a pizza with tomato and bell peppers.

Post-meal, we parted ways. Smarmie and Liz, I believe, went on a fruitless journey to CBGB's, while I had a very fruitful trek up to the Lincoln Center for a concert by the New York Symphony courtesy of my Aunt Ginger. While I'm no connoisseur of classical music, I especially enjoyed the drama of the first piece and the last movement of the second piece. There was a quiet-loud structure that reminded me a little of the Pixies and Weezer's first two albums.

Saturday we three and Emiko met up at H&M. After a relatively quick shopping trip (45 minutes?) We had an excellent meal at Japanese restaurant on 55th. Emiko ordered enough food to feed all the starving children in Africa. I bet her the price of her meal that she couldn't finish it. She got a free meal. I, however, at least enjoyed mine. To top it off we stopped off at the Teuscher store on 50th. Tastey, tastey chocolate was consumed. Emiko still did not boot. Smarmie was then carried off to Larchmont and Emiko, Liz, and I went back to Brooklyn to watch the Incredibles but watched Bend it Like Beckham instead.

Sunday was all about kicking round objects. The afternoon brought three hours of soccer. The last game I played in was populated mostly by West Indians. Play was only marred by a couple of unforgiving players barging into an area of sunbathers. A shouting match ensued, but no blood was drawn. In the evening I headed over to Williamsburg to play kickball with my co-worker and about a billion driz-unk hipsters. Play was only marred by a couple of pseudo-hippies banging on bongos in the middle of the field.

All in all, this entry is a lot less interesting than I thought it would be. For your sake, next time I'll try and include more lies and innuendo.

Baby steps...

Other portions of the Democrats' agenda targeted their progressive base. With the domestic partners bill, they gave unmarried partners, including gay couples, the right to make health decisions for each other. And they expanded the state's definition of hate crime laws to include crimes motivated by the victim's sexual orientation.

Go Maryland State Legislature! Maybe twenty years from now gays will have the same marriage rights as, uh... straights?

Also, if you haven't heard Ratatat's song Seventeen Years, please go forth now and discover its brilliance.

Spamalot! this evening.

Michelob Ultra

For those of you that ride the New York subways, you may have noticed the Michelob posters plastering the subway cars squishy innards. They depict sexy people doing strenuous leisure activities like mountain biking, tae bo, and swimming (the person in this one is doing the ever challenging butterfly stroke, replete with racers goggles and swim cap in what looks like a lake). Imposed in front of the person doing the activity is a close up of this person, skin coated in a sexy sheen of sweat (presumably after completing their workout), muscles ever so slightly flexed, and dramatically lit. The catch phrase is "This is your beer." The beer is Michelob Ultra, which has a low-carbohydrate content.

Now sex has been used as a device to sell beer (and everything else) for years, as have sports (watch any football game). If you make a product look sexy, people apparently will buy more of it. However, these ads seem to imply that drinking goes along with mountain biking, swimming in lakes, or tae bo. That the people who do these activities drink on a regular basis and possibly have alcohol surging through them while working out. The ad makes it look like an energy drink. They really seem like a cheap trick to make people who are already neurotic about their weight to believe that they too can be a sexy, athletic adventurer if they would only drink this beer.

This whole 'low-carb' fad drives me nuts. Large corporations are capitalizing on our nation's ignorance. (Independent businesses are too. What the hell is a 'low-carb' bagel made out of?) America, drinking 'low-carb' beer will not increase your sex appeal. Eating sugar free candy and avoiding bread isn't the solution to your body-image problems. Try eating a balanced diet (which implies not gorging yourself at every meal), exersizing regularly, and getting a decent night of sleep every once in a while. In conclusion, I am naturally thin and underweight, and it's unfair for me to complain about other people's weight problems, but for godsake, don't get suckered into living an unhealthy life by people trying to make a buck. Use some common sense and get off your ass and run around every once in a while.

Surprise!

I live with sneaky, sneaky ninjas. They somehow managed to pull off a surprise girthday party for me despite my keen awareness of my surroundings. By 'keen' I mean 'dull.' I am in fact oblivious. I never suspected...

If you're interested, there are pictures of the event posted in the New York photo album, which you can get to through a link a couple of blog posts below. Let me know if the link or password don't work. I can't say I'll be able to fix it, but who knows...

I'd like to apologize to the people who aren't represented in the photos. I tried to get a decent picture of everyone in attendance, but sometimes what looks good on a 1-1/2" x 1" lcd screen doesn't translate well to a 17" computer monitor. It's the fault of the photographer. You're all beautiful people.

Also, I'd like to especially thank Emiko and Lawry for throwing the shindig and Davida for keeping me occupied with delicious German/Austrian/Hungarian cuisine (Cafe Steinhof in Park Slope) and chocolatey goodness (at the Chocolate Room in Park Slope only a block away from Peperoncino's), and not letting slip that there was a surprise in the waiting. Good job.

And finally, thank you Brendan for cleaning my room. You're a great friend and a better maid.