Unapologetically Mundane

You Can’t Handle How New York City I Am

katie ett — Fri, 18 May 2012 20:00:16 +0000

Sometimes I feel like I don’t live New-Yorkily enough. Every time I go straight home after work to catch up on “Law & Order”, a part of me thinks about all of the girls my age who are sitting at swank bars with their swank friends trying to get boys to buy them whatever cocktail matches their swank dress. Every time I go to sleep before midnight because I have to wake up early to go to the gym and then take a shower and then watch the morning news like some geriatric, a part of me thinks of all of the girls my age at the Neon Indian or the Beach House show, staying out until 4 a.m. and then rolling out of bed again a few hours later in the same clothes to go to their start-up jobs in SoHo or DUMBO.

But I realized a minute ago that:

• tonight, I’m going with Kamran and our good friends to a second meal with a pedigreed chef who hosts secret dinners in his home

• tomorrow, I’m going to be an extra in a movie, and it’s not even the first time I’ve done that, either

• the next day, I’m going to the best restaurant in New York City for the third time with Kamran to celebrate his many accomplishments

I’m not saying this to brag. I’m saying this to tell you that I will not be made to feel bad about my life, so quit expecting me to be Carrie Bradshaw. Or Miranda Hobbes. You expect me to be the lesbian, don’t you? DON’T YOU?

You Push Down Everyone Around You

katie ett — Thu, 17 May 2012 17:00:23 +0000

Sometimes I feel more powerful than most women. Sometimes I feel like I’m more capable, that I’m stronger and better able to handle myself in tough situations. That I’m quicker-witted and slower to get used or walked on. Sometimes I think that being sharper, better at arguing, funnier is the most important thing. Sometimes, when I look at really snarky, dry, biting women like Gena or Sandy or Ellie, I think about how lucky the world is that all women aren’t cutesy. They’re not all “girl power”, unshaven-armpits-exposed-as-they-sway-their-arms-back-and-forth-over-their-heads-at-Lilith-Fair, either. And these women are intimidating. They require “keeping up” with and “being on” with; you don’t just leave any old comment on their Facebook posts, because their cleverer other friends have already said cleverer things than you were going to. I’d be scared to date either of the Mean Kims, as much as I love both of them. And if I feel that way, how must nice, normal girls feel about them?

Sometimes I feel much less powerful than most women. Sometimes I feel like I’m so busy being sharper, better at arguing, stronger and better able to handle myself that I forget to just be nice. There’s a moment in “Friday Night Lights” where Coach Taylor says to Jason Street, “You lift up everyone around you.” That line hit me so hard in the place in me that was raised by the sweetest, kindest mother who never said a bad word about anyone and was still considered by everyone to be hilarious. She never said anything shocking. She never cursed. She never made fun of someone just to get a laugh. (Mrs. Bachelor Girl reminds me of her in that way.) I know that people respond better to positivity and cute pictures and women in frilly lace dresses with shining hair and winning smiles than to uppercuts to the vagina, but I don’t know how not to point and jab! And I worry that the alternative to snarkiness for me is lameness.

I have a friend who has approximately 2.6 million friends on Facebook and never says anything remotely interesting but is “spunky” and “full of life”. If she’s not posting a motivational quote, she’s posting a motivational typographical image. And people eat. that. shit. up. I post mean things about Jason Segel? I lose a Like on my Unapologetically Mundane Facebook Page. She posts the picture of the cat on the rope with “hang in there!” written on the bottom? She gets 200 Likes and an award for Krazy Kool Friend or something.

I want to die.

But in a way that will lift up everyone around me.

Adventure Time with Kat and Kam: The New York Public Library’s Main Branch

katie ett — Wed, 09 May 2012 16:00:13 +0000

The Main Library of the New York Public Library system is located approximately 3.5 steps from Kamran’s front door. A door that he has lived behind for approximately six years. And yet up until a couple of weeks ago, he’d never been there. Truth be told, I’d only been there once to pick something up, was confounded by the long empty marble hallways, ended up in the children’s section in the basement somewhere, ran away, and decided to go back to being illiterate.

But with Kamran in tow, I tried again, because I needed to renew my library card in order to be allowed to download ebooks from the library website so that I can not only continue being cheap and not buying books but also so I can continue being lazy and doing everything from my computer.

In short, Kamran was astounded at how beautiful and interesting the place was, and I was astounded that I don’t own a piece of artwork with a pooping donkey on it.

one of the long, empty, echoing, marble hallways

the map room, haunted by the reflection from my camera’s UV filter

eerily glowing LEGO lion

Kamran, the bronzed glamour boy

NERDS!

reminds me of something out of “Boardwalk Empire”

pooping donkey artwork!

Kamran, thinking he was really cheesing it up for the camera but basically looking like normal person

Kamran’s usual facial expression

Summers in NYC are so stifling (I know it’s bad wherever you are, but we don’t have air-conditioned cars, so can it) that we sometimes find ourselves just wanting to stay indoors for five solid months. Now that we know we love the library, we’re going to spend all of August with our cheeks pressed to the cold marble floor, copies of Don Juan and Dandelion Wine splayed out beside us.

At the Moment

katie ett — Mon, 07 May 2012 14:30:32 +0000

My favourite things of the moment are featured in a beautiful layout by Lisa of Elembee today! Here’s a little taste:

See me talk about things I’m “crushing on” and what’s on my “bucket list” and other words only Lisa could coax me into using.

Do You See?

katie ett — Wed, 02 May 2012 16:00:24 +0000

This morning, a woman ambled out of the bus and onto the sidewalk in front of me without checking to make sure she wasn’t cutting anyone off. I wasn’t in a hurry, but she was walking so-o-o-o-o-o slowly that I couldn’t bear to match her snailish pace. She walked in the middle of the sidewalk, though, not leaving room to pass her on either side. Just as I was stepping off the sidewalk and into the street to get around her, she decided to cross right in the middle of the street, cutting me off again. I was like, “Ohhhhh, no,” and excused myself as I sped around her, hoping she’d notice what a dick she was being but realizing she probably wouldn’t.

And I realized then that that’s the thing I really hate about New York. I can deal with tiny apartments that cost twice what whole houses do elsewhere, and it’s worth it to have to brave subway altercations to not have to drive anywhere, and I’ve learned to cope with having to shop at three different grocery stores because a single one isn’t big enough to carry everything I need.

But I can’t stand feeling like I’m invisible. When that woman stepped in front of me not once but twice, I wanted to yell at her, “DO YOU SEE ME?” When I’m crossing in front of someone and she’s crossing in front of me, and I hang back a second and let her go ahead because she’s wearing some five-inch heels and I realize that my life is much better than hers, and she doesn’t acknowledge me, I want to yell at her, “DO YOU SEE ME?” Or when everyone is waiting in a line to go up the stairs from the subway platform, and one guy comes from the back and cuts right in front of me, I want to tap him on the shoulder and yell at him, “DO YOU SEE ME?”

It’s like the episode of “South Park”, a riff on the movie Manhunter, where the killer ties Cartman to a chair, Clockwork Orange style, and shows the boy a projector slideshow so Cartman can see “all the things he has done”. You think the killer means all of the murders he’s committed, but the slides are all of the man at the Grand Canyon, at Niagara Falls. “DO YOU SEE?” the killer asks as each slide is displayed.

Because my being invisible has to be the reason for these crimes against humanity, right? The only other explanation is that these people somehow think they’re more important than I am, that they have somewhere more pressing to be. And maybe this is why people get mean living here. How many times can someone step in front of you just as the train arrives before you start doing it back?

Unused

katie ett — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 16:00:26 +0000

I don’t use things. I collect them. Buy me a maple bacon lollipop, and I’ll display it on my bookcase for years, waiting for the right time to enjoy it. Buy me robot window clings, which are meant to be used and reused, and I’ll hang them with clear tape to avoid removing the backing until I find the perfect thing to put them on. Buy me a copy of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, and I’ll get another copy from the library just so I don’t accidentally bend the spine of mine.

And the things I’m forced to use, I cover meticulously like so many old ladies with their plastic couches. My Kindle, which I’ve owned for more than two years, has nary a scratch thanks to its thick purple leather case. My iPod, which I’ve owned for more than five years, still had the original protective sheet over the front until I had a momentary lapse of reason late last year and pulled it off. I have fabric book covers for my hardcover books, filters to protect all of my lenses, bags for my not-expensive shoes. I buy new clothes but never wear them. I buy fancy lotions but never use them. I didn’t touch my new comforter for the first nine months I lived in my current apartment.

And I realize it doesn’t have to be this way! I see people with their Kindles case-free, one hand fitting neatly around the unencumbered devices, so easily able to hold them up without wanting to rest them on the crotches of the people standing in front of them on the subway. I see people who know that scratches don’t affect the function of their iPods and who don’t want to diiiiiiiiiie when they drop them on the ground. I know people who wear out clothes and comforters and shoes and just buy new ones. And I kind of want to be that way.

But I’ll tell you this. The one time I went crazy and bought a sticker headboard for my bed at my last apartment and actually used it . . .

. . . we moved out three months later, and I had to rip it off and throw it out.

The Passive-Aggressive Patron of Seats

katie ett — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 15:30:24 +0000

The following is an except from today’s Examiner.com post, which I admittedly only wrote because they threatened to give my column to someone else if I didn’t produce. But all of the great things are born of desperation, right? Like Weezer’s “Pork and Beans”, Gwen Stefani’s “What You Waiting For?”, or Rilo Kiley’s “It’s a Hit”. Okay, I have no idea if those last two were actually born of desperation at all, but the lyrics semi seem like it. Anyway, I kind of ended up liking this article, anyway.

A girl standing in front of me accidentally slapped my magazine and apologized. A boy scooting past me accidentally hit my knee and apologized. The woman next to me jabbed me with her elbow and apologized. Everyone was trying to maintain civility in the face of potential meltdown. Except for the person who had the most to apologize for, of course. She had a suitcase with her, which is annoying on the slowest of transportation days and outright repugnant on the busiest. So she was lurching that thing around at every stop as people asked her to move through clenched teeth. She stepped on my toes. She smacked me in the face with her Longchamp knockoff bag. She fell into my lap. She didn’t apologize. And I’m completely understanding of the fact that a crowded bus sometimes force you to touch people in ways you’d really prefer not to, but even when it’s not your fault, you have to apologize. It’s the only thing that separates us from the animals, other than our desire for designer knockoff bags.

Read the rest here!

Winning Your Love with Puppy Pictures

katie ett — Tue, 24 Apr 2012 14:00:30 +0000

Since Kamran spends all day sending me photos from the Aww subsection of Reddit, I decided to take some of my own puppy pictures while we were out walking this weekend.

Bulldogs (especially French bulldogs) are my absolute favourites, so we followed this waddling little fella for a few blocks before he stopped for a rest and I had a chance to ask him to pose. I swear his owners said he was named Rudy, but when I repeated that, they said, “No, Fruity.” But Kamran says they actually said Ruby. So maybe he is a she. I’m calling him or her a combination of all three names: Fruby.

We met Kodak outside of our grocery store on the way home, and though he looks adorable, Kodak was viciously barking at my camera like crazy, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to his owners much. He’s a Japanese dog, right? Maybe a Japanese Spitz?

Now go Like my Ettible Photography Facebook Page for many, many more!

j/k, there aren’t any more. I’m sorry I tricked you. But please go Like it anyway, thx.

My Weekend in Not-Pictures

katie ett — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 18:45:48 +0000

On Friday night, Kamran and I went to a restaurant that I spent all day maligning and all night half-maligning and half wanting-to-exclaim-openly-and-not-quietly-about. Only everyone around us was actually doing just that, and it seemed so ungainly to me. It’s funny to see your own awful qualities reflected in other people, right? A few years ago, I would’ve been the one calling out to the chef about how good the food was to earn his favor. I would’ve been trying to crack jokes to make all of the other diners like me like I used to in all of my college classes. I wouldn’t have loudly mistaken the green onion for bok choy, though.

Since the restaurant is across the street from my apartment, Kamran was practically forced to spend the night at my apartment for the first time since I moved in last January. We ate Cadbury Creme Eggs and one of my 1000-calorie Reese’s eggs while watching Boogie Nights, since my roommate had ordered HBO that day, and Kamran finally stopped mentioning the possibility of taking a cab back to his place around 2 a.m. The next morning, we ate banh mi and drank bubble tea and watched The Breakfast Club and played Call of Duty and had the kind of day that people all across Brooklyn were probably having at that exact moment.

That night, we met our friends Nik and Marko and my roommate, Jack, at Yuka for all-you-can-eat sushi on the Upper East Side and ate all we could. Including hand rolls with shiso and plum and fermented soybeans. We walked past the giant building-high white structures the MTA is constructing over 2nd Avenue as they complete the new 2nd Avenue subway line on our way to Dunkin Donuts/Baskin Robbins, where I got a scoop of ice cream called Icing on the Cake that had sprinkles and the consistency and flavor of vanilla frosting. AMAZING. I also got a cream-filled, not custard-filled donut. Those things are hard to find, you know. Which is ridiculous, because cream is obviously superior. We took our treats to a platform over the East River and watched boats drive by without their lights on and then went home to do laundry, because we are responsible.

On Sunday, we went clothes shopping for Kamran and bought matching hoodies even though it’s now regularly 70 degrees or more. We brought Milky Ways and wasabi peas to our park to stare at the haunted house and the puppies and the homeless guy who was very conspicuously hiding a backpack under the stairs to the street overpass. But we didn’t call the cops. We bought French bread and a creamy Reblochon and covered them with honey and watched X-Files and Celebrity Apprentice and couldn’t fall asleep until after midnight.

non-Instagrammed photo by Jack

And then Kim came over last night for Game of Thrones and brought a Cadbury Twisted candy bar for me from the British candy store that of course exists in Manhattan. I found out about this bar when British Mel left me a comment about them but warned that she and all her SPOILED, ROTTEN, UNAPPRECIATIVE (j/k, j/k) friends agree that the creme-to-chocolate ratio is wrong. I can see what they’re saying, because yeah, there’s a LOT more chocolate in the bar than in a Cadbury Creme Egg, and unlike the thin shell on the Egg, the shell of the bar is really thick. And amazing. And I need more. But I could never replace the Eggs with the bar completely.

And if I didn’t have a BlackBerry, I would have Instagrammed all of this.

Fotodump Friday

katie ett — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 15:30:06 +0000

the wall of Sriracha at Rickshaw Dumpling Bar

a mural in SoHo

outside the subway during my college friend Sarah’s visit in January

the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree during my NYC-turned-SanFran-friend Beth’s visit in December

The Best of Barbie Jewelry and Mixed Media

katie ett — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 14:30:05 +0000

I was reading an article in New York magazine this morning about the biggest scandals in New York history and a particular crime called “The Preppie Murder”. In 1986, they said, “handsome, blue-eyed, and six-foot-four” Robert Chambers strangled a woman in Central Park and while out on bail, “had the bad judgment” to be videotaped “twisting the head of a Barbie doll and saying, in a falsetto voice, ‘Oops! I think I killed it,’ while looking into the camera with leering, satanic delight.”

Awesome, right?! Well, I couldn’t find the video online, but I did find this super-awesome, super-creepy Barbie art by Etsy seller G. Jarvis Jewelry, etc..

Here are some of my favourite pieces from the shop:

1) Ken and Ken Knuckle Ring
2) Barbie and Ken Embrace
3) Leg Man
4) Barbie Face Necklace
5) You Can Have It All (I noticed that this link is no longer working, so I instead offer you these babies in a bottlecap.)
6) Barbie Arm Earrings

I feel like it’s pretty ridiculous that I don’t already own that Ken-on-Ken ring, right?

So. Weird. -Ly awesome!

Stuff I Like: Favourites of the Moment (20)
Giant Gummy Bears on the Streets of NYC (11)
A World of Affordable Wonder at C. Wonder (20)
Just Dance (17)
An Embroidery Piece Personalized for Me! (10)
Defining My Personal Style (11)
Stuff I Like (6)
It’s Not All Latch Hook Kitten Rugs (8)
Stuff I Like (6)
Stuff I Like (18)

Stuff I Like: Favourites of the Moment

katie ett — Tue, 10 Apr 2012 16:00:47 +0000

I’ve been switching between Burt’s Bees Baby Bee Shampoo & Wash and my regular non-natural shampoos for a while now, but I read recently that the sulfates in most shampoos are really bad for letting curly hair be curly. So I’m going all Burt’s Bees now. It’s sulfate-, paraben-, phthalate-, and petrochemical-free, and it leaves my hair soft and shiny.

It’s thinner than other shampoos, so I usually start out with a tiny amount so I make sure not to lose any, rinse that, and then wash again with another tiny amount. I tried Johnson’s Kids Natural 3-in-1 Shampoo, Conditioner and Body Wash because it’s a little cheaper and found that while I also like the way it leaves my hair, the fact that it’s naturally non-foaming just doesn’t work for me; I like to be able to feel my shampoo doing its job. Plus, I think “Baby Bee” is about the cutest name ever for a product.

• Burt’s Bees Baby Bee Shampoo at Amazon.com

• Burt’s Bees Baby Bee Shampoo at drugstore.com

I already sang the praises of the super-soft EcoTools kabuki brush with its own lid, so when I started feeling like my BareMinerals brushes were a little too scratchy, I immediately looked for a suitable EcoTools alternative.

This brushes are so soft you’ll wanna wipe your butt with them. The kabuki is dense enough for full-coverage, the foundation brush will take care of your everyday powder needs, and the eye shading brush is perfect for undereye makeup. The concealer brush is just like the BareMinerals concealer brush if the BareMinerals one was made with hair plucked from a kitten’s head, and the pouch (mine is zippered) makes it so I can leave a set of these in my desk drawer at work without the brushes coming out caked in pencil shavings and tequila.

I’ve read reviews where people actually said the EcoTools brushes are too soft for them, but I guess not everyone has the skin of a newborn baby seal. (Is that a good metaphor? I have no idea what baby seal skin is like.) The point is that these brushes are perfect, and I continue to LOVE EcoTools.

• EcoTools 5-piece brush set at Amazon.com

• EcoTools 5-piece brush set at drugstore.com

(The brush set is ridiculously cheap at Amazon right now, but shipping is faster through drugstore.com, and Ebates will give you 6% cash back through drugstore.com, so take your pick.)

The Best of Barbie Jewelry and Mixed Media (8)
Giant Gummy Bears on the Streets of NYC (11)
A World of Affordable Wonder at C. Wonder (20)
Just Dance (17)
An Embroidery Piece Personalized for Me! (10)
Defining My Personal Style (11)
Stuff I Like (6)
It’s Not All Latch Hook Kitten Rugs (8)
Stuff I Like (6)
Stuff I Like (18)

Easter Candy Memories

katie ett — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 16:00:49 +0000

My best friend, Tracey called me up on Friday and mentioned her trip to Ohio chocolatier Anthony-Thomas to buy her family’s traditional Easter candy. They don’t celebrate the resurrection of Jesus but sure appreciate the Melt-A-Way Mints God created on the 3rd day.

That got us talking about Easter candy and how we should import Cadbury Creme Eggs from overseas since they got smaller over here a few years ago, and I brought up an even larger egg I remember from my childhood. It was like the Reese’s Peanut Butter Egg except huge. Huge! Big enough to last me for weeks, while my little sister gobbled hers down before the Easter ham even got cold and then watched me enviously from across our shared bedroom as I allowed myself mere tastes of mine per day.

Tracey said, “Oh, you mean the one from Anthony-Thomas with your name written on it in icing?”

!!!

It turns out that the year my mom was dying, my dad asked Tracey’s mom to buy the usual giant peanut butter egg for my sister and me to take one thing off his plate; apparently she actually brings it up from time to time on Easter as one of the Ett family traditions. Here I’ve been digging around my brain for the past 10 years, trying to remember where that thing could’ve come from, and my best friend could’ve told me at any time.

And get this–when I Amazoned for the Anthony-Thomas egg, I instead found this other giant peanut butter egg, which serendipitously already has my name written on it.

There’s no such thing as coincidence.

Ettiquett: WHAP!

katie ett — Fri, 06 Apr 2012 16:00:35 +0000

I still really do love your children, though, blogfriends. (Especially this one, which belongs to Cassie.) And if you died and left them to me, I would hire the finest nannies for them while I continued to whore myself around town as usual.

Ettiquett: Rules for Bathroom Behavior (9)
Ettiquett: The Anti-Skinny-People Bias (27)
Ettiquett (9)

The Right Way to Eat a Bagel

katie ett — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 16:00:15 +0000

This morning on my way to work, I saw a man eating a poppyseed bagel on the subway.

Good story, right?

No, but the interesting part was that he was eating it like a sandwich. A cream cheese sandwich. And when I approached Nik, my co-worker who regularly tempts me with bagels on Fridays, he said, “Uh, yeah, how else would you eat it?” My other co-worker (and roommate) Jack also acted like it would actually be weird to eat the halves separately.

But that’s what I’ve done my entire life! You buy the bagel whole with a slit down the center, you toast the halves, you cream cheese them, and you eat them one at a time. Sure, the top half of the bagel has all of the flavoring and the bottom half is just bread, but that’s why you eat the bottom half first! Just because the bagel cart man or your local Tim Hortons squishes the halves back together when they hand them over doesn’t mean they’re meant to be eaten that way.

But now I really, really want to eat them that way, with the cream cheese oozing between my fingers with each bite. Baaaaaaaaageeeeeeeeel.

salt bagel with pumpkin cream cheese from Bricktown Bagel in Queens

Que Sera, Sera?

katie ett — Wed, 04 Apr 2012 16:00:04 +0000

You know how there are those blogs you keep reading and commenting on because, you know, they read and comment on yours? Like, it’s a relationship blog and you can’t imagine how they get anyone to sleep with them, or it’s a fashion blog and all of their clothes are out of the bad part of the 80s, or it’s a humor blog and all of their jokes are about PMS. And you’re like, “OMG, how can you not realize that your blog is so much worse than everyone else’s? How can you read other blogs and not think, ‘I’m doing it wrong’?”

What if you (meaning I) are that blog for other people?

And I’ll Never Get Christmas Presents Again

katie ett — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 16:00:06 +0000

My grandmother joined Facebook just before Christmas. She didn’t (and still doesn’t) have a profile picture chosen, so while she was nosing around the chip bowl on Christmas Eve with my dad and uncle, I started threatening to take one of her eating and post it for all the world to see like so many Michele Bachmanns and James Gandolfinis before her:

She wouldn’t let me get close, so my uncle helped me with the sneak attack. Knowing that a woman in an embroidered Christmas sweater can’t resist the charms of her youngest son, he made a little small talk with her while I pretended to fidget with my settings . . .

. . . and then POW!, something even more embarrassing than an eating picture:

But I still got one of those, too, just in case:

I will not post these to Facebook.
I will not post these to Facebook.
I will not post these to Facebook.
I’ll probably post these to Facebook.

No “Game of Thrones” Spoilers Contained Within

katie ett — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 16:00:51 +0000

On Saturday morning, I took a cue from Han + Diana and invited Kamran and our friends Nik and Marco to The Dutch for herbed cocktails, fried chicken, and pie so tall you could use it for a baby’s highchair:

Marko is the thoughtful brother, and Nik is the outrageous brother, and together, they’re a very good time. We spent most of the meal signing each other up for the Draw Something app on our various Apple products, and then I tried Kamran’s tripe and almost threw up in my mouth because it’s cow stomach lining, but then I stopped myself because it’s delicious. And it should be, because it’s made by the same chef who owns Locanda Verde with Robert De Niro. I tell you that so you’ll be dazzled by my brushes with celebrity.

Afterward, I went back to my own apartment and spent the next ten hours marathoning the entire first season of “Game of Thrones” with my friend/roommate/landlord/co-worker, Jack, and my friend Kim, whom I will always refer to as “Kim of Good Hair, Kim Luck”, even though her website has been defunct for almost a year now. As soon as I arrived, Jack handed me a save-the-date postcard for Beth‘s wedding, and Kim acted as if it’s weird that I actually want to attend the nuptials of a person I only know from the Internet, even though there was a time when I only knew Kim from the Internet, and now we’re NYCBFFs.

We ate direwolf cupcakes with grey sprinkles, looked at The Khaleesi’s boobs, and picked and re-picked our favourite characters from 6 p.m. to 4 a.m. and then had a sleepover for all of five hours before I had to get to Kamran’s and Kim had to get to the gym or something ridiculous, and then neither of us watched the premiere of season two. So don’t spoil it for us. A-holes.

$640 Million and Counting

katie ett — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 00:15:20 +0000

I wish I hadn’t bought a lottery ticket so I could properly mock all of these yahoos crowding my bodega with their pathetic dreams of job-quitting and Tahiti vacations and “helping people in need”.

The difference between them and me, though, is that my ticket is actually the winner.

Giant Gummy Bears on the Streets of NYC

katie ett — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 14:00:20 +0000

On one of our weekend walks around the city, Kamran and I ran into an installation called “Bear Forest” by Spanish artist dEmo in the THE LAB gallery in the Roger Smith hotel. Imagine the wonder of rounding a corner and coming face to face with a roomful of these:

Gummy bears! With pectoral muscles! And questionable intentions! (Am I right in thinking that these things could be straight out of a cute-things-turned-deadly horror movie, a la Gremlins?)

Overnight New York, where I got all the information about the exhibit–because of course I was too busy daydreaming about gnawing on some bear bellies to actual take note of what this was–says the exhibit goes away on March 30th, so see it while you can!

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