I was inadvertently reminded yesterday of a pre-Christmas party that Tim and I went to um, before Christmas. I was on my way to posting the images from this fucking amazing space when the holidays actually hit and I went out of town. So, here they are. The Lab. They do high tech photo retouching and all sorts of other things I don't understand. It is the bitchinist place ever owned by the coolest people who are cool and bitchin enough to let Tim have an art show in the same space (where the video screens are) they are now filming Wall Street 2 if he ever decides to get his shit together. Public shaming may help him get his shit together. Here is his website (connected to his email address to which you can complain): Tim A Jones (Love you husband!)
I teach about 20 9-12th graders the basics of fashion design on the UWS. I tried to take some images of the hallway life today, but was foiled by some other teacher that wanted to talk to me. I swear that my high school was not even remotely like this when I went merely 10 years ago. This last statement will probably make more sense when I can support it with images. Maybe by next week. In the meantime, check out this tech drink machine! It's like Back to the Future Part II!
This is semi related to the RCHP post, in the way that if you watch the video I linked up with you can see a really impressive and desirable fat silver Ribbon on a Stick being played with which reminded me that I rocked the gift giving to some 4-8 year olds Christmas this year. What girl (and apparently boy as well) does not love Ribbon on a Stick? I ask you...
If you know anything about me, you know that I am constantly stealing my husbands things. I wear his jackets and coats. I wear his sweaters. I wear the bathrobe that is designated as his (I made it) even though I made a second one to avoid this. We both have the same kind of slippers that I got for free when I was working at Camper, in different colors and sizes. Thick felt Wabis with a recycled rubber soul (second Beatles reference). In fact, I own 2 pairs (red and blue) but still am constantly shuffling around in Tim's green size 11's. It's to the point where he doesn't even check the closet for them anymore and just comes and finds me when he wants to wear them and yanks them off my feet. Anyway, I am sure Tim will say 'serves you right' when he reads this and finds out I just tripped and fell twice in them. Once going down the stairs to sign for a package, yes in front of Fred the nicest UPS guy ever, and once going back up the stairs also in front of Fred the nicest UPS guy ever not even 30 seconds after the first time, tail now between my legs in embarrassment.
Somehow the appeal for wearing his slippers has dimmed slightly... for the moment.
I have just found myself in a wormhole of 6th grade reminiscence. I was checking up on Lika that I used to work with and remembered that she was designer/stylist for the Red Hot Chili Peppers back in the day and is responsible for all that metallic drop crotch stuff and used to do their stage costumes as well. I was waaaaay in love with RHCP even before they were the drug dealing machine gun toting cracked out semi villains in Point Break. I was in love with them back when Ryan Patin in Miss Bohot's class asked me if he could borrow my Sharpie Marker so he could draw a giant and permanent 8 point symbol on his left wrist. Oh, he was cool alright.
I think we know what I will be listening to tomorrow.
Oh, I do enjoy it when things get explained with little or no effort from myself. The other day I received a Brooklyn newspaper in my mailbox addressed to the previous tenants (vacated some 5 years ago) and instead of chucking it straight into the recycling bin I put it in the next best place, next to the can in our bathroom. Later I opened this 6 page publication which held alllllmost nothing of importance and discovered the above photograph! I will refrain from typing the artists name just incase it shows up in some search or another and the poor guy actually sees the Miniscule Tim and Cripple Cratchit post, but all the same more of his work can be viewed here. Go ahead and explore his site because he is a really talented guy and while I don't think I was wrong to be confused by his "Large Scale Living Objects" (scale being the misleading word here) installation, I do like quite a bit of his other work. So, artist guy living in my neighborhood if you ever come across me hating on your sculpture, sorry dude. My bad. I particularly like the below Where's Lighty? installation and there is a solar powered LED necklace on his site that is very cool as well.
There really was not a better title for this. I mean, 3 posts in one day?! AND the most fabulous Christmas card ever?! Ladies and Gentlemen: For your holiday viewing pleasure I give you the card stylings of the one and only Mike Dickey.
The night before (well, two nights before) we left to visit various parts of NC for the holidays NYC received a foot and a half of snow. Gorgeous and powdery. Needless to say, we all went out in an attempt to ignite our inner children by frolicking, running, snowangeling, wrestling, etc in all 15"of its pure glory. You really have to take advantage of the moment with snow and inspite of getting the wind knocked out of me for the first time since I was 5 years old and panicking, I had a fantastic time. Inner child indeed. The next day was spent trying to finish up Christmas gifts, pack, and get ready to fly out. By this time the beautiful snow had turned grey and slushy, peppered with spots of yellow. How New York.
Anyway, so we left our apartment naively assuming that our roof (we are penthouse remember) was no longer leaking since our super had been up there mere months ago repairing and refinishing it. Sadly not the case. Our roof is sloped and towards the downward part is the drainpipe. As it should be. BUT, things do not go smoothly when it has snowed. The snow melts during the daytime and then freezes in the pipe during the night. the next day more snow melts and cannot go down the icefilled drainpipe and it takes the road less (not that much less) travelled and leaks through our ceiling and into our apartment. For the last 5 years I have been risking life and limb by climbing through our skylight onto the roof in my husbands army tan, long, shit-its-cold, coat armed with a bar-b-que spatula, rock salt and crossed fingers to avoid this leakage. I imagine I look like a Sandperson up there crouched down hacking away with ice flying in every direction. I am sure there is a video somewhere anonymously posted on you tube by one of my neighbors. This year, due to timing, forgetfulness and afterthoughts of hope I did not scrape snow off the roof before we went out of town. And yes, the roof leaked. And yes, our bed was directly underneath. And yes, we had gotten up a 4 in the am to get our flight and had to take a nap before the new years eve partying. This was both inconvenient and convenient because Tim and I have been saving our Christmas cash for a new bed, which we now more than ever will appreciate.