Owl Art

Meet Amy Ruppel. Amy is an artist. Amy makes owl art. Who can resist the beguiling siren hoot of the owl?

Somehow this talented young lady has managed to make owl art cool. So break out your wood-carved and macramed owl decor because owls are back!

Amy has monthly online sales that sell out within an hour. You have to be on the mailing list to even be able to buy anything, so sign up now and don't miss out. Her next sale is November 4 at 2:00 ET/11:00 PT.

Inanity

I tried to write something tonight, but I got nothing. I worked. Came home. Watch Family Guy. Ate a bowl of cereal. Took a bath.

Thank god I moved to NYC to live this fabulous life!

I want to own Inanity. I want my blog to be the first thing that comes up when one googles Inanity. Is that so much to ask?

Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity. Inanity.

This is what comes up when you google image search inanity.



I vaguely remember this 1983 summer blockbuster. Vaguely like a fox.

Blogging Made Easy

As I excel at laziness, my previous lack of updates had to do with the complicated (not really) procedure of posting pictures to a photojournal site, then cutting and pasting the web location of said posted pictures to my blog entries. This involved at least 6 tedious, time-consuming, and enthusiasm-sapping steps.

All of that is in the past. I can now upload photos from my comp directly into blogger.

This makes me happy and wont for excuses to not post.

I hereby proclaim this day, October something or other, 2005, The Emancipation of Inanity day.

That proclamation makes little to no sense, but I felt like giving some vague props to Mariah Carey for no apparent reason.

Fall Down Go Boom

I had a little accident last week involving a pair of non-non-skid rain shoes, a puddle, and a staircase. My resulting injuries are too magnificent not to share.

Smells Like Paul Anka

This is funny.

World Sunlight Map

I coulk look at this for hours and never get bored.

B-A-N-A-N-A-S

A friend of mine got sick of my love and devotion to her B1, so she gave him to me! For those of you unfamiliar, please allow me to introduce you to B1 (not to be confused with B2), part of the sexually ambiguous duo of the Bananas in Pyjamas



Bananas in Pyjamas was an insanely good children's television show that was on while I got ready for work when I lived in Miami. I'd almost forgotten about its existence.

Speaking of Bananas, what the hell is up with Gwen Stefani? Her new song is so bad and everyone keeps showering her every move and maneuver with praise and accolades. She's crazy and has everyone convinced that she's not only cool, but cutting-edge and trendsetting. I don't get it. If you want to hear some kick-ass playground chanting power pop, check out The Go! Team. Huddle Formation puts Hollaback Girl to serious shame.

Dominick Dunne is short

I saw Dominick Dunne at 53rd and 3rd. Boy is he short. I'd say no more than 5'4".



I find this man really annoying, but be talks about NY as if he owns the place, so it was good to see him out and about.

UPDATE: Dominick Dunne is a columnist for Vanity Fair and has a show on Court TV. His shtick is to follow celebrity trials. Learn more about the man, the myth, the shortie here.

Michigan Sucks

I don't know what paper this is from, but the questions was, "Now that Iraq is a Democracy, who should join Iran and Korea in the Axis of Evil." First place, by a landslide: Michigan.

These Dreams

I dreamt that I was at a family party last night and my "friend" BK left to go to a party with Lindsay Lohan. I was like, "Hey. I want to go to a sweet Hollywood party with Lindsay Lohan." But they were all like, "no, you can't come. You're not cool enough."

Luckily, Gwyneth Paltrow was was there to help me pull myself together before Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen showed up, which was the total highlight of the party. Except that Mary-Kate was fat and my mom kept introducing her as Sheila.

What Debra Winger, Barbara Hershey and Kevin Costner have in common

I get sad when they die.

I engaged in a minor experiment yesterday that has rendered me essentially useless all weekend long. I happened upon Terms of Endearment about 3/4 of the way through and thought to myself, "I wonder if this will make me cry, having missed the first 75% of the movie?" The answer to this question was a resounding Yes.

What is it about this movie? Not only did I sob uncontrollably for the final 25 minutes, but continued to do so long after the movie ended and proceeded to revisit this inconsolable state ever hour or so.

Is this normal? Is there something very, very wrong with me?



Other movies that have made me cry:

Beaches (I wish it weren't so)
A Perfect World (totally underrated movie with Kevin Costner)

Can't think of anything else off the top of my head. Lots of movies have made me tear up, or whimper a little, but these have all made me cry like a little girl with a broken easy bake oven.

New-ish Celebrity Sighting

Isaac Mizrahi chastised me for my inability to close a window. It was awesome.





With K & T at Japonica on University, by Union Square. This actually happenend last weekend, but I'm such a bad blogger I'm just getting around to posting it now.

Bad Blogger, cont.

The bad blogging continues.

But the plague has passed, no marburg virus on the horizon, familial obligations have been fulfilled. From here on out, it's smooth sailing.

Just one good night of sleep and I'll be right back on top of my blogging game.

In the meantime, here's some unnecessary information from my interweb travels:

Beck is a Scientologist

Ben Kingsley wants to sleep with Winona Ryder

I'm addicted to these expensive little bitches

Bad, bad blogger

I'm a bad blogger.

I started a new job two weeks ago and immediately contracted the plague (ok, it's probably just a cold) which is, ahem, plaguing me. As a result, I am very tired. Too tired to blog.

I'm sure that once I recover I'll be back to my super-blogging self. Ok, I was never a super-blogger. It's good I have negligible audience.

For those of you who do bother to visit me, thank you and I apologize for my laziness. Once the plague has passed, I will post again.

If you are in need of entertainment, visit SF Gate and look at the Day in Pictures (DIP). I look forward to it every day and it never lets me down.

My Favorite Borough

I went to Staten Island this morning for a client meeting (because I have a job now) and quickly discovered that Staten Island kicks ass. Why, you may ask?

One word: chicken.



This photo was taken this morning in the parking lot of the company I was visiting. Why was there a chicken there? Was it a frequent visitor? Was it wild? I don't know. What I do know is that Staten Island is my new favorite borough.

If I wasn't going to hell already . . .

Just in time for St. Patrick's Day, it's Holiday Jesus Dress Up!

Celebrity Sighting Part II

Apparently a lot of celebrities live in NYC. Who knew?

I was fortunate enough to ride the subway for all of 15 minutes with the lovely Yoanna House, winner of America's Next Top Model, season 2. She had her portfolio with her, so she appeared to be a working model. I'm glad for her, because seeing Adrienne Curry on The Surreal Life is surreally sad.



I like her, but she always seemed a little startled. This was true in person as well. Also, she had an ipod mini. You'd think a big important model would have a real ipod. She probably got it as a gift for attending some stupid event. Why do rich and undeserving people get all the free stuff? That's a conversation for another time.

Seven Days

I'm worried that Eliot watched that creepy video from the Ring. You know, the one that kills you in seven days. I took a picture of her last night and it turned out like this.



If she dies next week, I'm going to be pissed. And a little scared.

The Gates

I went to see The Gates yesterday and they were cool, but the color is too reminiscent of construction orange. See what I mean in this photo with a building under construction in the background:



They can also be quite lovely, though:

I live on Long Island

I just realized that I live on Long Island. I should have known that. Looking at a map, it's obvious. It just never occurred to me.

Here's my apartment building. I'm on the second floor.



And here's the excellent view of the city from my roof.

Best. Conversation. Ever.

I overheard the best conversation ever on the subway today.

One guy asked his friend some question that I didn't catch, to which his friend responded, "Shut up motherfucker. I'm reading the paper and picking out my hair." Which was exactly what he was doing.

Happy Valentine's Day

It seems that I'm always single on Valentine's Day and this year is no different.

My best and most active Valentine's Day was back in 1990 when I was 15 and dating Mike "Fuckin' A" Hepp. Dating is a strong word, as I'm not sure we said more than 4 words to each other and there was zero exchange of body fluids.

Mr. "Fuckin' A" showed up at my door with a pack of Marlboros wrapped in a red ribbon and we proceeded to silently cruise Main St of the bleak and charmless town of Lake Mills, WI. Silently, but for the Metallica blaring from the car stereo.

Ahhh, memories.

Cutest

I admit it, I'm a sucker for cute. I get soft and sloppy when faced with kittens and puppies. I like miniature crap. I love pink.

As a connoisseur of cute, I believe I am able to definitively proclaim this the cutest thing ever.

From SFGate's fabulous Day in Pictures (DIP):



Fuzzy surrogate: At the zoo in Abilene, Texas, a newborn Angolan Colobus monkey cuddles with a stuffed animal in an incubator on loan from a local hospital. The baby, delivered by C-section, needs the incubator because her mother rejected her.

Big Celebrity Sightings

I had my first true celebrity sighting at the Coffee Shop in Union Square.

Big (aka Chris Noth) was sitting in a booth, drinking his coffee, and reading the paper (the Times, not the Post). Which was EXACTLY what I was doing! I felt like snapping a photo and submitting it US Weekly's "Stars: they're just like you" page. At that moment, Chris Noth was just like me!



He was very handsome, but not as tall and I thought. I guess compared to Sarah Jessica Parker, everyone's obscenely tall.

Bitter With Baggage

T and I found the best book ever one day on the clearance table at Urban Outfitters: Bitter With Baggage Seeks Same: The life and times of some chickens, by Sloane Tanen. The book includes photographs of a series of dioramas with little puffball chickens participating in events/encounters of everyday life.



Apparently, the lovely and talented Ms. Tanen was commissioned by the city of NY, or the MTA, or some friggin' organization to create dioramas of chickens doing NY things. They're in the subways. They're brilliant. She gives me reason to believe in the future of art. She gives me reason to hope.

I heart tennis

I love tennis. I always have. But, you know what makes loving tennis a lot easier lately? The plethora of really good, really hot players.

Case in point: Marat Safin



Holy shit, this boy has really come into his own. I had a dream last night, after watching the Safin/Federer match, that I ran into Marat in a tennis equipment store and he was helping me pick out a racket and then helped me with my backhand. I woke up loving him even more.

I Will Value You, Will You Value Me

Apparently my blog has value.

SpongeBob and Patrick, sitting in a tree . . .

. . . F-U-C-K-I-N-G

I have discovered definitive proof that Focus on Family's claim that SpongeBob is gay and carrying on an illicit relationship with his "best friend" Patrick is absolutely TRUE!



It is quite clear what is going on in the picture. Come to think of it, I've always been suspicious of SB's admiration for Squidward (voiced by the aptly-named Roger Bumpass). Seems SB's not merely gay, but potentially promiscuous as well

The thing is, they look really happy. If only they understood the unearthly torture that awaits them in hell.

I coulda been a model

I coulda, shoulda been a model.

It's really fun to google yourself. Here's me as a toddler model. A todel, if you will.



I spent the day bargain bunting with KA. I bought socks. She did better.

Top NYC experiences of the day:

1. I saw a man sneeze at MOMA and heard fluid hit the floor. Literally: splat.

2. Dapper elderly man at the MOMA gift shop reading a book entitled, "XXX: 30 Porn Star Portraits."

Astoria Guy

I put "Astoria, NY" into google and searched images. This is one of the first ones that came up.

Henceforth, I would like you to think of this guy whenever you think of me in Astoria.

Gettin' Around

I more than made up for my lack of motivation yesterday.

KrisAnne was in town and we were all over the city. I was away from my apartment, mostly on my feet, from 11:00 am to 10:00 pm and I am pooped.

I found the cutest ever pointy pink flats at Filene's Basement for $9. That made my day.

KrisAnne introduced me to the Strand bookstore, where I picked up Paul Krugman's new book, The Great Unraveling, which I am very excited to delve into. He's my favorite economist ever.

I was going to post pictures today, as text-only posts can get pretty boring, but my picture upload site is down for maintenance. Alas, y'all will have to wait to see the glory that is my pointy pink flats.

As much as I would love to post something witty and entertaining, I am too exhausted to string together thoughts, much less type them coherently into my computer. Today I am boring. I'll try harder tomorrow.

Sex and the City

I thought I was going out tonight and I did not, but I watched Sex and the City and they went out, so that's almost the same, right?

Today, day four of project NYC, I did nothing. I think I crashed. And I had my period. And it was cold outside. I needed to rest and so I did. Is that so lame?

There's this hot metal pole in my bathroom and I burned my arm on it. I was literally burned by my apartment. I have pictures, but unfortunately they are being held prisoner by my camera until I find that stupid cable.

My friend KrisAnne is in town for an opera audition. We're going to Daffy's Bargain Clothes for Millionaires tomorrow. I have no idea what it is, but I'm sure it's fabulous if KrisAnne's involved.

I have nothing. I did nothing.

NYC Baby

This is day three of my new life as a New Yorker. I'm still experiencing a little insomnia, so was up at 5:15 am. I putzed around all morning, then went to open a checking account at my new bank, Chase. I selected Chase b/c it's the first bank I encounter when exiting the train. It was close between Chase and Citibank, but I think I still owe Citibank from my credit-induced stupor college days, so I didn't want to alert them to my whereabouts.

Equipped with 8 new checks and a brand new Chase banking card, I hit Manhattan to shop for a mattress pad. With my trusty Not For Tourists book at my side, I quickly found Bed, Bath and Beyond and treated myself to the bottom of the line, $19.99 polyester-fill queen-size mattress pad. I was tempted by the $24.99 waterproof option, but I think I can control myself.

I'm happy to report the my maiden solo voyage into Manhattan was successful in that I got what I went for, I did not end up in Brooklyn or the Bronx, I did not freeze to death or get hit by a taxi, and I made absolutely no kind of fool of myself (that I know of). It was a good day.

I would love to post pictures of my fabulous adventures, but I stupidly packed up the USB cable that connects my camera to my computer and it's currently in my storage locker back in St. Paul. If anyone has an extra win/mac USB cable for an Olympus D-540 send it my way.