...conveniently located minutes south of downtown

OK, so I'm back from vacation and have finally gotten around to posting some of the photos I took while in New York. I know this is a bit late, but I've been sick for the last week and haven't felt up to sitting in front of the computer for hours. All the pictures from my trip will soon be posted on my Flickr site. I've apparantly met my uploading limit for this month, but plan on upgrading my account sometime next week (as soon as financial aid comes through), so check back soon if your interested...

The first night I was in town we went to a club called Happy Endings. It's in this old Chinese health club. I wrote a bit about it while in NYC, so if you want to know about our crazy time there, please refer to my earlier post.

Jessica wore short-shorts to Happy Endings and at one point removed them to reveal even shorter shorts. You can read about it here.

After leaving Happy Endings I spotted this giant vat of 99% pure MSG with the trash on a street corner in Chinatown. Next to it was a huge can of "salad oil".

A few days later we decided to go out in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. I know I'm supposed to hate Williamsburg and say things like 'Dude, why is everybody in Williamsburg such a hipster douchebag?', but the thing is, they're just not. After seeing the absolute epitome of hipster douchebaggery at Happy Endings in Manhattan (picture an early nineties bike messenger with pegged jeans and tiny-brimmed cap making out with a girl in a gingham babydoll tank dress and a tail, desperately trying to be photographed for some awful hipster party website) the kids in Williamsburg seemed, well, normal. I mean of course they were hipsters, but the kind of hipster I'm comfortable with, the kind of hipster I've grown to love after living in Tucson for four years. After hitting Capone's for free pizza, we walked over to Union Pool. Over the bar sits this 'Worst President Ever' billboard, complete with a flashing yellow neon arrow.

We finished the night at Royal Oak, where Jessica and Bizzy had a very important conversation about boys.

Also during this week (I forget which day) I saw the craziest man ever. I was on the subway, going to get groceries and there was this guy wearing a mattress pad he had fashioned into a jump-suit, high-tops and a coffee canister lid fastened to the side of his head with a rubber band. He was yelling into a cup about the American Emblem (I later realized he was talking about the American eagle). He didn't appear to be asking for money, he just wanted us to know how sacred the American Emblem is. At one point a woman with a bunch of shopping bags got onto the train and he told us that it was because of the American Emblem that we have the Right to Bear Packages. I was so distracted that I got off at the wrong stop.

On Saturday the 10th, Bizzy and I went to the Art Parade in SoHo. It was sponsored by Paper, the magazine Bizzy is interning for. Read the Tips for Today section which she often writes (so good one of her pieces has already been featured on Gawker) here.

Jen and I at the Art Parade block party.

Bizzy was very excited to see Chabio (half chicken, half Fabio) at the Art Parade block party.

The next day Bizzy, Jessica and I went to Metropolitan, a gay bar in Williamsburg that has free barbeque on Sundays. They have a lovely upstairs patio that made me feel very Brooklyn-y.

After a week at Jen's house in Chinatown her roommate came home so I went to stay with Jessica in Brooklyn. She has an amazing view of the Manhattan skyline from her roof.

Wednesday, Jen and I decided to take the (free) Staten Island ferry. It takes you right past the Statue of Liberty (a lot smaller than I expected) and Ellis Island.

Friday night was the CMJ Clap Your Hands Say Yeah show. While planning my trip to the NYC I had scoured the internet for shows I wanted to see while I was there and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah topped my list. I wanted to see this show more than any show I've been to in a long time. I knew it was going to be nearly impossible to get into, especially after learning that Mercury Lounge has a 150 person capacity and those with CMJ badges would have priority for entrance. I debated standing in line all day, but eventually decided to go to free day at MOMA, and take my chances at Mercury afterwards. When we got there, there were two lines coming out of the club that led all the way down the block and around the corners in both directions. We assumed, of course, that we were fucked.

Jessica writes for Pitchfork. A couple days earlier she had finally met the Chicago-based editor/creator of the website, Ryan Schreiber, at a CMJ pre-party. Just as we had decided that there was no way we were possibly going to get in to see Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Jessica spotted Ryan near the door of the Mercury talking to a bouncer. She went over to say hi and explained our situation. Lots of introductions and phone calls ensued, and before we knew it we were walking past the line and into the show. For free even. It was like a CMJ miracle.

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah was amazing as expected. Everyone at the show was shit-faced drunk except us, so it was easy to shove our way past all the industry assholes to get right up to the front of the stage. Heaven.

After Clap Your Hands Say Yeah we headed to the Vice Magazine CMJ after-party at The Cake Shop.

Favourite Sons played first at the Vice party. It took us almost a week and an email to The Cake Shop to find out who they were.

Then it was time for Les Savy Fav's last show ever. Tim Harrington is the craziest motherfucker on the planet. He started the show dressed in a pirate mask, a pink Member's Only jacket and fatigue shorts...

But soon removed the mask and jacket...

And then his shorts...

And was soon left in nothing but a sheer white leotard. Notice the sweat-rag/bandana on his (very sweaty) head...

He later took off said sweat-rag/bandana and wrung it out into Nick Sylvester's mouth. I missed capturing the actual wringing, but check out the looks of those in the crowd around Nick.

He then made Ryan suck on it.

A beer fight ensued after the show.

The next day Robbie invited us to a vegan barbeque at his friend's house in Brooklyn.

Also in attendance were Jeff and Kerry. I stayed at their Brooklyn loft for the final leg of my trip. This was delightful for many reasons, among them is the fact that Jeff is an amazing cook.

Eric Elbogen of Say Hi To Your Mom played at the barbeque. We got a chance to talk with him after his set and he's very nice. He also rolls his own cigarettes.

John Vanderslice also played at the barbeque.

Later that night Jeff, Kerry and I went to a rooftop party in Brooklyn.

Inside the door to Jeff and Kerry's apartment is this sign. It reads:
'The cat of yellow color is for hunting the rats outside. Leave. Giovanni. Thanks.'

The cat of yellow color.

The Sunday before I left Bizzy and I went to see Enon and Le Tigre at Webster Hall. Unfortunately my camera ran out of batteries so I didn't get any pictures. We did see Adrock though, standing in the VIP section with Kathleen Hanna before the show. And I got to talk to Toko Yasuda from Enon. She was very Japanese and polite.

The night before I left, Bizzy, Laci, Kate and I went to a speakeasy called Milk and Honey. It's very secretive and fancy. First you have to call a private number and request a reservation. The number is super-secret and you can only be invited by someone who already goes there (in my case, this was Laci). Then, when you get to the entrance (a small unmarked doorway on the Lower East side) you have to ring the bell for someone inside to look out and buzz you in. When the door opens, you walk through a double layer of black velvet curtains which make it impossible to see into the bar from the street. There are only six tables inside. All the bartenders look like supermodels and are dressed in vintage thirties clothing. A bartender comes to your table to tell you what fresh fruit and other ingredients they have that day and you select what kind of alcohol and fruit you'd like made into a custom cocktail. My first drink was raspberry and ginger with vodka, followed by vodka with crushed blueberries and lime. The drinks are expensive ($12 each) but delicious.

The rules of the bar at Milk and Honey:
1. No name-dropping, no star f**king.
2. No hooting, hollering, shouting, or any other loud behavior.
3. No fighting, no play fighting, no talking about fighting.
4. Gentlemen will remove their hats. Hat hooks are provided.
5. Gentlemen will not introduce themselves to ladies. Ladies, feel free to start a conversation, or ask a bartender for an introduction. Once you speak to a man, he is free to speak to you. If a man you don't know approaches you, please lift your chin slightly and ignore him.
6. Do not linger outside the front door.
7. Please do not bring anyone here unless you would leave that person alone in your home. You are responsible for the behavior of your guests.
8. Exit the bar briskly and silently. People are trying to sleep upstairs. Please make all travel plans and say all farewells before exiting the bar.

After Milk and Honey, Bizzy and I met Jen at Pianos. This Irish boy and his friend bought us drinks all night. He was told that in order to sound American, he should say 'Whatever' or 'It's cool' in response to everything said to him.

Jen got really drunk at Pianos.

So I'm currently livin' it up in the NYC. I arrived last night around 7:30. I'm staying in Chinatown (Chinese medicine nerd heaven) with my friend Jen. My plan is to keep this updated while on vacation for the next couple of weeks (then fill in with pictures later), but at $9 / hour for internet, I may end up deciding to spend that money on drinks instead... I woke up early this morning to the sound of incessant jack-hammering outside my window (I think 'the city that never sleeps' is really just code for 'the loudest fucking city on earth') and decided to wander down to the internet cafe I spotted while walking around yesterday. Last night we went out to a bar called Happy Endings, formerly a Chinese 'health club', that had advertised a three-hour open bar. When we got there we quickly learned the open bar was non-existent. This realization was followed by at least a half hour of traipsing up and down stairs, while being assured by the bartenders on each floor that the other had half-price drinks. We finally gave up and bought tiny $6 whiskey cokes downstairs in the converted shower room. Interesting place, Happy Endings. I at first felt tragically unhip there, but then quickly realized that 1. I don't really give a fuck, and 2. Most of the supposed hipsters there could easily be mistaken as slightly mentally disadvantaged in any other environment, what with their patchy haircuts and ironic early ninties garb. Wow, re-reading that last sentence, I feel really fucking old...

You know how sometimes something is so integral to your life that you don't even recognize that it's funny or strange or interesting until you say it out loud and someone gives you an odd look? A couple weeks ago I was talking to a friend I hadn't seen in years about how it seems weird that we're suddenly adults with married friends and know people with real jobs. That's when I told him my two drinking buddies are a nurse and a scientist. I mean, I know that I hang out with a neo-natal intensive care unit nurse and a micro-chemical scientist on a near daily basis, but saying it out loud made me realize exactly how ridiculous it is.

PS Confidential to racist fuckwads: I don't want yr comments on my site.

Got an ipod today! Finally. Although with the new color screen and photo stuff, maybe this is the one time it actually paid off to be the last one on the block with the newest toy... I guess it was actually the same thing with my digicam. Hemmed and hawed just long enough to get the newest Elph the day after it came out, me not even knowing such a thing existed until I got to the store. So I'm VERY excited about the ipod. I'm planning on staying in tonight and dorking out with it 'til the wee hours. It's an early birthday gift from my mom (now feeling slightly guilty about posting her drunk picture...), given just in time for my big trip to the Big Apple next week. Had my last class this morning (yeah, on a fucking Saturday...) and now have one whole month to do absolutely nothing but travel, download tons of music, read books that I actually WANT to read, internet the day away and sleep in as late as possible. Sometimes dreams really do come true...

OK, so it's been a while since I've written anything... But I finally got my camera back, so I'll try to update this shit more often. Last weekend I had to go to San Diego for some stupid school stuff and my mom decided to come along, which was OK because it meant I got to stay at the Hilton instead of at the horrible hostel I stayed at last time I was there. We walked over to Joe's Crab Shack for drinks Saturday night, where my mom proceeded to get WASTED on four Rolling Rocks. On the way back to the hotel she saw this wooden statue of a peg-legged sailor and grabbed his crotch while trying to give him a kiss. Seriously, without any prompting from me. Then she started laughing hysterically, but pulled it together long enough to recreate her pose for this picture.

Down the street from the hotel there was this inflatable ride carnival thing. One of the main features was this Sinking Titanic slide. I've been seeing this thing on and off for several years now. It makes me wonder when somebody will start marketing a Twin Towers bungee jumping attraction.

So, also, I was in San Diego for Street Scene a few weeks ago and took some pictures of the bands we saw with Taylor's loaned camera. I was planning to post some of them, but, by now, am totally over it.

Confidential to whoever keeps getting here by searching for Britt Daniel on Technorati:
you can go see about 20 Spoon pictures (and some others) here.

Yesterday I was trapped in my own home, unable to get out. I couldn't go to school or to the acupuncture appointment I had made to help me quit smoking. My front door has been swelling due to the humidity and yesterday it finally reached the point of being unopenable. I had to sit around until 4:30 when Taylor came over to bust it open from the outside.

While sorting through some boxes at my mom's house I found this picture of myself taken in 1994, shortly after my sixteenth birthday. I remember being very upset when it appeared in the fashion pages of my sophomore yearbook because they referred to me as a 'frosh'. A friend who worked on the yearbook later stole the original for me. While wearing this outfit I seriously thought I was the coolest fucking girl to ever walk the face of the planet.

Several days before this picture I had gone to a Hole show in Tempe and purchased the tee-shirt. The coat was from a half off sale at the St. Vincent de Paul thrift store. I made the skirt myself, lavender fur hand-stitched with lime green thread. The boots were found at a yardsale and spray painted silver. I'm also wearing a dog tag necklace that says 'girl'.

On my way home from school the day this picture was taken, three separate people tried to pick me up, mistaking me for a prostitute. My favorite of these incidents involved a 40-something man telling me that he was on a scavenger hunt and would pay me $50 to go to his house and take off my pantyhose. When he saw the look of disgust on my face he assured me that he had more than $50 if needed.