(Loose) Change is Going to Come
I don’t know why, but I really get off on giving exact change on purchases. I save my change in a little bank my great aunt gave me (pictured here). It locks too, but you have to put in 50 dimes in order to open it again. My great aunt boasted how I’d be able to save up to $5 in there. Vintage.
I used to save up my change in a big empty wine bottle and take it to the Penny Arcade at TD Bank (formerly Commerce Bank). I especially liked guessing how much money was in the bottle. You win a prize if you guess within a certain range, Price is Right style. Last time I played, I won a pack of tissues. Actually I was pleased to get them since it was February and as I had a cold, my nose was running (a marathon). Otherwise, tissues would have been an utterly disappointing prize.
Now the penny is the most useless of all coins. I mean, why do we even still have it? To repair the Statue of Liberty again? (Who remembers that?) Can’t we just round everything up to the nickel? That would seem to make more sense to me; it’s not like you can buy anything with a penny, or even a hundred pennies. If you tried to pay someone in pennies, you might get punched in the face. Actually we may have to set this up. To be continued…
$@bs
My Little Abstract Pony: An Exhibition
If you’re one of the poor starving artists in this city, you’re going to need to know about some cool cheap things to do around town. A great resource for this is the website, freenyc.net, which lists all types of free events. One that I plan go to tomorrow is an art exhibition in Brooklyn involving ‘My Little Ponies’.
Blank My Little Ponies were given to local artists to design and tomorrow’s event features all of the results. Mediums include sculpture, photography and dioramas. After the exhibit, all of the ponies will be auctioned on eBay. The best part of this art project is that all proceeds go to Just Food, an educational and agricultural non-profits in the city.
I once tried to do a light installation piece with a bunch of bald, naked Barbies I stumbled upon in my father’s basement that my sisters and I had abandoned decades ago. I decided against the idea since I realized it might be too much of a fire hazard and burning plastic stinks. No worries, I’ve alerted the MoMa that the project is on hold until further notice…
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Nothing says I love you like blowing your lover’s genitals to smithereens, at least in Russia. 33-year-old Alik lived with girlfriend Kira for about two years when Kira began suggesting marriage. Alik refused, saying he preferred to return to his first wife, with whom he shared a son, and began the process of moving out.
Kira invited him to a farewell dinner and after a large meal and plenty of alcohol, Alik fell asleep. Kira took this opportunity to tie several firecrackers to Alik’s penis and then detonated them. He was immediately rushed to intensive care and is now fighting for his life. Sources say that even he survives, Kira now faces up to 12 years imprisonment. (Note to self: don’t piss off Russians).
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McGospel Fest: A Match Made in McHeaven
I constantly notice what corporations sponsor and who they consider to be their target markets. I’m even more fascinated by how they attempt to reach those audiences. It’s the marketing geek within me, I guess. Anyway I saw a pretty good marketing marriage that made me guffaw: McDonald’s Gospel Fest, a talent competition featuring choirs, steppers, praise dancers, soloists, gospel rappers and gospel poets, singing groups, and gospel comedians.
The sponsorship really speaks to McDonalds’ core demographic of low income minorities. Sponsorships such as these exist to leave consumers thinking “McDonald’s is doing good for my community” instead of “damn po’ quality food makin’ black folk everywhere fatter than Miss Jenkins (but you didn’t hear that from me)”. And then people wonder why this country has an obesity problem… McDonald’s Gospel Fest will be held on Sunday, July 13th at the Prudential Center in Newark, NJ (AKA car theft capital of the world).
$@bs
“You know what really grinds my gears?” The fact that when you get someone’s voicemail, you also get at least 5 minutes of irritating instructions you have to suffer through. Seriously, we’re almost a decade into the new millennium. Who doesn’t know how voicemail works?
If you try to press a button to get things moving, every carrier has a different system and what ends up happening is that the caller is led in a circle of menu options, ultimately prevented from leaving a message. This is commonly referred to as voicemail jail, and boy does it piss me off.
I barely even listen to my voicemail anymore anyway. Since the invention of caller ID, I can obviously see who called and I just call them back. Who needs to listen to 15 minutes of people saying ‘hey’, followed by their name and a request for a return call? If it’s a longer message than that, it’s just annoying to sit through. I think I’m going to change my outgoing message to: “Hey, this is Sabs. Don’t leave a message after the tone! Thanks and have a great day.”
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Cemeteries are getting a lot of exposure lately! Happily, this story is a little brighter than yesterday’s. A Sicilian grave-digger was caught growing marijuana in a cemetery. The 42-year-old man had two clumps of the blessed crop, nestled between old monuments and graves of stillborn children.
An off-duty policeman spotted the weed cluster while visiting a relative’s grave and alerted an undercover team who set up a surveillance operation in unfinished tombs. When the daytime shift turned up no comers, the cops began a 24-hour vigil, finally catching a watering can-bearing gravedigger as he approached his plants early one morning. Guess the Italian deceased will have to go without herbal refreshments in the afterlife. (Hell?)
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Stories like these make me feel like I’m not so bad after all; in comparison, anyway. A man who sells flowers near cemeteries is accused of robbing the dead at St. Mary’s and Flushing Cemeteries in Queens. The macabre scheme has locals seething.
Reporter, Arnold Diaz, confronted the man, who first denied the allegations, and later admitted to dumpster diving for the artificial bouquets in the cemeteries. Incidentally, there are no dumpsters anywhere near either cemetery.
Eye witnesses, namely zombies, had this to say: “BRAIIIINNNNNSSS”. It’s good to know that I won’t be alone in hell, and that it will be filled with artificial flowers. To see Diaz’s interview, click here.
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Failed Robber Eats Evidence: Banana ‘Gun’
“Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just trying to rob the store?” Authorities in Winston-Salem say a teen’s attempt to rob a store with a banana was thwarted before police could arrive. 17-year-old John Szwalla held the banana under his shirt as he entered the store, saying he had a gun and demanding money.
The store owner says he and a customer jumped the teen, detaining him until deputies arrived. While they waited, the teen ate the banana in order to confiscate the evidence. However, deputies had the foresight to take pictures of the banana peel. Witnesses have been able to identify the banana peel out of a line up of other fruit peels and the teen now faces a charge of attempted armed robbery. Jail officials say he doesn’t have an attorney, or a preferred produce vendor.
I meant to blog this weekend, but I spent most of it in a food coma, thanks to the International Food Festival and Street Fair that took place. Over two days I ate: 2 Thai spring rolls, fried sweet potato with coconut and black sesame seeds, 2 Indian samosas, 1/2 Mozzareppa, 1/2 grilled Asian chicken salad (from Eatery), fried calamari, 1 mini pecan pie, and 1 small bag of kettle corn. Even though this was over two days, you can see how I instantly contracted the itis. It was great, but I’m glad it’s over (as is my expanding a$$).
Clearly I needed to get some cardio to work all of this off. Luckily, this weekend one of my favorite local DJs 
was spinning at Santos. This monthly house party, 718 Sessions hosted by Danny Krivit, is great because it’s just a bunch of old skool house heads that come to get down. No attitude, no drama, just uber cool peeps. I danced for at least 4 hours and may I say it was fan-f*cking-tastic. Good times were had by all. Except when, after too much Kettle 1 (if there is such a thing) I thought I might puke in the subway and had to take a cab the rest of the way home from 72nd street.
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Rites of Passage: A BS Birthday Post
It’s my birthday today – woot woot! In celebration of my 32 years on this planet, I searched the term ‘birthday’ in Wikipedia just to see what I’d find. Of particular interest, Wikipedia stated that birthdays are traditionally marked by a rite of passage or transition. Some of the rites of passage mentioned were:
Breeching, Bar Mitzvah, First Haircut, Gempuku (among the samurai), Quinceañera, and Scarification.
It suddenly occurred to me that I haven’t had any rites of passage thus far, except maybe the first time I found a grey hair. I Scotch taped it into my journal, whereupon 3 new ones sprang up to mourn the loss of their friend. Aside from that, I never had even so much as a Sweet Sixteen. Way to drop the ball on that one, Mom and Dad!
So, I’ve been thinking of what rite of passage I can incorporate into my life. I was not much excited by the idea of scarification, my first haircut has long since passed, I can’t remember the first time I wore pants and ever since my decision not to become a samurai, a Gempuku is out of the question. I’m thinkin’ a Native American style vision quest, but haven’t been able to score any peyote. Any other ideas?
