A Wonderful Day for Playing Hookey

It was looking like I'd be working an extra day at work this week due to an exceptionally large order that came in on the pipeline, but three days and 2875 coasters later, I was in a good enough place to either come in or not. Laura had the day off so I decided to forgo the money play hookey with her.

We slept in as long as the dogs would let us (we're dogsitting Milo) and then biked off to DUMBO, Red Hook and Prospect Park. Red Hook wasn't as interesting or up and coming as I thought it would be. It whole thing was just a fairy tale made up by Barbara Corcoran.

The ride ended at Pacifico, lots of guacamole, and a big ass burrito. After we got home we had some drinks at Pete's Candy Store with friends and got good and snackered. The next morning was an early one geting Laura off to Boston and it was grim.

Out Of The Saddle

the Monday Morning Job was pretty hellacious. Got about an hour into into it before the heavens opened up and I was caught with nothing more than shorts, an undershirt and a t-shirt. I thought that it would be a summer rain and that I wouldn't lose too much body heat, but I was wrong. Each time I stopped and went into a building I got a little bit colder. I finally broke down and bought a set of rain gear from Modells in Harold Square. It cost me $40. I've been holding off on getting freaking rain gear for a year and a half and all it was going to cost me this whole freaking time was forty measly bucks. I've done maybe 6 other rainy mornings and 4 snowy Monday mornings because I was too cheap to get some freaking rain gear.

In my experience, rainy days are best dealt with by going slow, keeping warm and not giving a fuck about anything but staying safe and healthy. When all was said and done, I lost a total of 10 minutes off of my average from the whole run. Oh yeah.

Shakespeare

Saw "The Taming of The Shrew" at the old alma mater last night. Josh told me about it and I talked Jessica into going with us. Outside the building we ran into Steve, my old acting teacher, former director and (n a separate story) former real estate client. We hugged, it was damned good to see him and he doesn't look a lick different. It was strange to walk into the Tisch building again, it's coming on five years in May and I basically spent my whole freaking life in that building for four years.

There were lots young actors hanging out in movement pants and tights. I felt old, really old. I ran into some familiar faces and there was the uncomfortable exchange of the ol' "what have you been doing" thing. It's unique among BFAs, you kind of sniff one anothers' butt to see who is and isn't working in theatre. I've been letting theatre go lately, but it hasn't been that easy. Something has felt missing. Every once an a while I'll look to the left of my TV and glance at my complete works of Shakespeare. Haven't cracked it yet, but now I think I shall. This past Thursday marked the bard's 442nd bithday (he also shares a birthday with Hitler, the 8th anniversary of the Columbine Massacre and the international day of smoking pot).

I have pretty strong opinions about how I see my Shakespeare. I can be a little bitch about it in fact. I dug on some of the performances, the woman who played Petrucio, two of the smaller ensemble actors were great. Steve did a grand job of setting the scene, breaking the fourth wall and some of the theatrical shit he did (difficult to write) were great. Hats off!

Some of the casting I wish was better, which made me do a kind of Fantasy Baseball Shakespeare. If he was 30 years younger and classically train Kris Kristofferson would have made one ass kicking Petruchio.


Afterwards, Josh and I rode like assholes back to Brooklyn. We passed some guy on the first major ramp of the bridge who slammed past us on the next incline. I made a feeble attempt to catch him again on the uphill, but I didn't have a damned thing.

There was a party at Andrew and TK's pad and Josh and I witnessed the last 10 minutes of a rousing game of asshole. TK, the asshole, had to let us in and Julia made everyone who pissed her off say something especially nice about her before drinking. Laura was in a fine mood and the night ended with an empty flask of whisky, a cold bike ride home and Laura showering with the Pig to clean him off.

DUMBO Scramble

A˜s part of my reolution to enjoy all the uniquely New York things before I leave, I went to DUMBO this Saturday to race. This was my fourth messenger race and each one has had its unique challenges. Unlike other races that I've done, I had no freaking clue where any of the stops were because I DON'T KNOW DUMBO! Neither did anyone else though, so that made it kind of interesting. It was a lot of follow the leader...on cobblestones. I'll break it down thusly:

Leading up:
The start was in Brooklyn Bridge Park, right on the water smack between the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges. Lots and lots of people with all kinds of abilities some first timers, some people on cruisers, a couple of tall-bike Black Label types. I also got briefly interviewed by some lady doing a segment for HDNet. I registered, got my manifest, spoke-card and t-shirt and then spent the next 40 minutes puzzling over the manifest. I knew one of the addresses, only becuase it was in Manhattan. After futzing with a map that didn't show any of the streets I was looking for, I knew one other stop. I resolved then, like most people did, to find someone who actually did know what the hell they were doing.

The Start:
It was a 50 yard dash LeMans start. Most people had clipless pedal shes and messenger bags, which made a kind of clippity cloppity rustling sound as we all ran in a pack to our bikes. I got my bike and started pedaling like a motherfucker in the general direction of the first stop. Everyone in the lead pack had track bikes and were jumping up onto the sidewalks in order to avoid the cobblestones. I made the mistake a few times of trying to pass people by jumping off the sidewalk and powering through the cobbles. The cobbles in DUMBO are far worse than those in Soho. My balls are still jiggling.

I eventually found two guys to follow who seemed to know where they were going. We got lost a bunch of times, but I sure as hell wouldn't have been able to figure it out on my own. Both of the guys, Alex and Pablo had track bikes with no brakes they were, well...bold in intersections. The both had some pretty exceptional BO (I was no lilly myself) and when I drafted behind them I was in a slipstream of pure armpit. I was too tired not to.

The checkpoints were all different. One of them made us do 10 pushups (go man-tits go!) before they would sign our manifest another had us answer trivial pursuit questions, and yet another, situated at the top of an enourmously steep hill just had us give em' a high five.

Snafu:
On an uphill, some guy passed in between me and a row of parked cars. He got too close, thwacked me on my back with his shoulder and I went down going all of about 7 miles per hour. Scraped my palm, elbow and knee on the pavement, my jeans, only one day old, got ripped. The guy who thwacked me acknowleged he was at fault and apologized. Shit happens.

That was the second to last stop. I made up for lost time by screaming down the cobbles and passing all of the people who had passed me because of my fall and got back to Brooklyn Bridge Park. Once there, I turned in my manifest and was given a new one. I had just raced 12 ball-busting miles, both guys I was following were long gone and I my knee was starting to smart. I threw in the towel and biked back to Williamsburg to have beers with Laura and Kristine. It was a damned good time. Had I not been a little better this week about not drinking so much and exercising more, I would have actually finished the freaking race and enjoyed it a little better. Perhaps next week.

Sedar

Sedar fun at the place last night. Among other things, I learned that Charles Schwab is the new Manischewitz, you can never have too much booze in the house and that Pharoh was one prize dick. Laura cooked up an incredible assortment of food and even made a plague cake. I drank a ridculous amount of water before I went to sleep, a bunch more at 6:00 am when I needed like crazy to pee and and sweated out the better part of a magnum on my ride into work. Good times.

Hey Cutie, Be Careful

Just a slice outta my life:
I was doing a track stand at the intersection of Atlantic Avenue and Third halfway through blowing the red when I heard a woman say "hey cutie, be careful."

A bunch of things went off at once. Since marrying, I've gotten random vibe a couple of times and one woman actually tried to give me a paper with her name and number on it at a concert. This time however, it was a black woman in a Jeep Cherokee that was filled with her children, the oldest looking to be about 12.

I gave her a big smile, nodded and ambled my way through a gap in oncoming traffic.

After a long wait, the system works

After my Monday morning deliveries I like to do something productive so today the project was to get a social security card. After a 16 minute wait for an operator, the guy couldn't hear me, after a 20 minute security check, I was told to go to Brooklyn and after an additional 3 miles of biking and another 40 minute wait, I was able to plunk down my form and my drivers license and get an interim card. Easy as pie! In 7-10 days, I'll have another form of ID and be on my way to getting my Missouri drivers licence swapped over to NYC. Just in time to buy a van, load up my shit, and get outta town.

I'm back!

For a good long tiime I was leeching wifi signal from my neighbors. They either moved or put up a firewall and that, more than anything, was the reason I haven't been doing a damned thing on this here blog. NO MORE! I now have internet access in the apartment and way too much free time on my hands.

Last night Laura and I met up with Julia, Andrew, TK and Kiersten at a local gallery and checked out the sculpture du jour: Britney Spears giving birth on a bearskin rug.


Laura and I both favored the fact that you can see the crowning head of her son. My personal complaint was that it just didn't look that much like her. I wouldn't have ever guessed it was her had I not been told. Whatever, I got a free PBR and I'm now some strange part of a small footnote in modern art history. Oh yeah, and you can buy it for $135,000.

From there we biked over the bridge to the east village to celebrate Wes' 27th b-day. All kinds of people were there and the bar had a great Reingold-and-a-shot-of-questionable-whisky for $5 special. The ride home was a lot of fun and Laura and I burned it up for the last half mile.

Dunno if you've ever done it, but if you have even on beer, bike hard and get off your bike, you will feel like a prize drunk. The all just metabolizes in your body and hits you when you stop. It's raining out and I plan on taking it easy today.