kungfu-grip hand models: get your smudgy resumes here!

Wednesday, apr. 9, 2008   |   0 comments

I live on a street overrun with nail salons (we have six, all essentially indistinguishable with the big, brown vibrating chairs and the gigantic hand-claw-holding-rose stencil on the window), dusty copy shoppes (we have four, each packed with elderly, sun-darkened Xerox machines that look too decrepit to do anything but tear and crunch your documents, and usually are), and martial arts studios, of which there are three:

First we have the very competent-looking place up the street, which is always filled with grim-faced men with zero body-fat and oatmeal-hued outfits, no real surprises there.

Then we have the dojo downstairs, scene of the pugly surprise party and home of the flashing sign (with swap-out-able seasonal framing) that scrolls out the most be-typoed, maddeningly mis-punctuated craziness ever: “Dont be a stastic Learn ‘HOW’ to be aware in any setting!” and “Come in and feel ‘how quality’ martial arts can enhance your Life!” They also seem to specialize in a strange sort of slap-fighting, with gangly, acne-prone children facing off in a Pattycake stance and paddling each other with loose, flappy arms?

And then there’s the fantastic place just up the street, which first of all has the world’s greatest and most optimistic sandwich board out front: “Self defense! Grappling! Tumbling! Motivation! Confidence! FUN birthday parties!” I love that “FUN” they added in there, like, “Looks good, looks good…but should we add some FUN in there? Because otherwise, that birthday you’re describing, it sounds less like a celebration and more like military school or maybe a fraternity party? Just a thought.”

Better still, they have a huge television sitting in the window, and it’s on a 24-hour video loop that is just packed with the most sweaty, erotic-looking grappling I’ve ever scene:

The windows of this strangely office-y looking dojo are always steamed up, so you can’t really see inside, but thanks to the semi-porn they have playing in the window, you can always well-imagine what’s going on in there. It’s a lot to think about. And people do often stop and ponder out front.

I once left the house on a drizzly morning, walked up the block, then circled when I realized I needed an umbrella. When I returned five minutes later, the same Alhambra Water delivery man I spotted my first time out was standing in front of the dojo, rooted in front of that looping grapple video. So FUN!

a $10 dream

Tuesday, apr. 8, 2008   |   0 comments

How about this: If you send me $10, I will mail you a photograph of me sending David Horvitz $10 to take a photograph of a mailbox in NYC and then mail me that photo from the very same mailbox!

Thanks to Jordan Ferney, writer of Oh Happy Day, and indirectly her husband Paul, for the great link!

did he stay on the bus? forget about us?

Sunday, apr. 6, 2008   |   0 comments

It’s been three long weeks since Matthew Baldwin last posted. Where could he be? Why for has he gone?

Wherever you are, Matthew, please know that we are out here, yearning for the safe and sound return of your internet typing fingers.

And until that happy day comes, here we sit…

…wondering…

…and waiting…

…and keeping our deliciously White-Grapefruit-scented candles (just $12.95 at Old Navy!) burning bright and ever hopeful.

some evany rules to live by

Thursday, apr. 3, 2008   |   0 comments

1. If the outfit you’re wearing now is cuter than the one you’re thinking about buying, don’t.

2. A lapel pin will make you feel better about almost anything.

3. There are few things more depressing to come home to, yet so easy to take care of before you leave in the morning, than a dirty coffee pot and an unmade bed.

4. Gaining weight is just as much of a golden opportunity to go outfit shopping as losing weight is.

5. You can put a price on friendship: It’s the amount it costs to hire professional movers.

6. Never get a haircut when you’re feeling blue.

7. Do some small nice thing for someone you love at least once a day.

8. If you like the way the wine tastes, write down its name and year now! Quick! Before you get too drunk to remember, or write.

9. Set aside a corner of your closet for a Gift Larder, then line it with fun $20-or-less finds—that way you always have something wrappable when emergency gift situations arise!

10. Buy the very best mattress you can afford.

11. Take an alternate route home.

12. Keep your friends close.

13. Floss. Sunblock. 401(k)!

14. Try not to leave the house in anything less than the outfit you’d wish you were wearing if you ran into either the ex, the one you most want to feel the sear of regret for not getting you, and/or The Sartorialist.

15. Don’t save your special items for special occasions—wear those sparkly heels to the hardware store! Put on the $100 underwear for brunch with your mother! Wear the pin you inherited from you great-grandmother, the one with the real rubies, to all-day Diversity Appreciation Training at work! This is your life!

bird bath!

Tuesday, apr. 1, 2008   |   0 comments

Easter of last year, Washington Mutual (an evil, evil bank that PS: Ate up $700 of Marco’s dollars in its maddening and always hungry bureaucrazy) ran a “Free Range Checking” campaign (a glorious pun, I know, too bad and sad that they’re awful and wrong and you should never, ever bank there!) They celebrated this campaign as anyone with endless (and surely shadily obtained!) resources does: They plastered their windows with gigantic posters of hypnotically cute baby chickens.

My want-o-meter went deep into the red the very first second I saw that poster, oh! And then, upon closer inspection, I realized that the poster was mounted on the OUTSIDE of the window, and surreptitious picking revealed that it peeled away with unexpected ease! My internal needle soared into white-hotter realms of desire, and I started hatching great, Marco-alarming plans of visiting the bank in the (t)wee(t) hours of the night and robbing it of this, its most precious asset.

But before I could even purchase a ski mask, the campaign winds shifted, and (that rotten bank!) Washington Mutual started systematically removing the chickens from its branches. I came home and dejectedly delivered the news that the chickens had all but disappeared, and Marco clucked sympathetically.

But! The very next morning, luck lightning struck with astounding timeliness when Marco decided to stop at our local branch to deposit a check in the blue, pre-dawn hours before his frighteningly early work begins, and he caught the chicken-removal team just as they were putting up the next round of posters. After much hand-gesturing (the chicken-removal team spoke little English), Marco learned that the beautiful chicken poster had been crumpled into a big sticky ball and shoved into the trash. Sadness! However fears that the poster was balled beyond rescue proved unfounded when the poster softened in the warmth of the back of Marco’s truck and over the course of the day it unfolded all on its own, just like a pretty flower.

And now those gigantic chickens have a new lot in life: Now they must focus their Rasputin stare upon our naked bodies as we scrub our skins and hairs with foaming agents!