Substantiating Photos.

It's nice to know that things arrive, if late. I sent both photos at the same time. I wonder what the errant one was doing, out there, somewhere between my phone and my email account, to make it tardy.

American Apparel ad at Houston & Allen. Just over Economy Foam on the corner.


If I were fancy with the Photoshop, you know there'd be something hilaireeous on that crotch.

This is a tiny storefront carved out of Economy Foam, just south and below the American Apparel sign.


It's only two or three feet deep, and contains only a small desk, some insulation bled from the scabied walls, and bad lighting.

I want there to really be a live animal in there, if they are going to advertise it like that.

And finally, the jewel on the curiosity: American Apparel maintains a lease on tiny "Live Animal" (if Economy Foam is to be believed), solely in order to preserve its right to leave up that crotch billboard.

My Post-Work Afternoon.

My post-work errands were fraught with stumbling blocks, but I had a good time anyway.

I got off the M9 bus at Delancey and walked north on Allen. Just below Houston St., I was marveling at this curiosity, but you'll have to find out more about that when I can get a substantiating photo up. I took a picture with my phone but it hasn't shown up in my email and I deleted it from my phone already. I am trying to delete immediately so things don't pile up "in" my phone, but I guess I jumped the gun this time. It's a good curiosity though, and it involves American Apparel, Economy Foam, and a live art installation.

When I was marveling at the curiosity, I heard a loud crash and turned around to see a car rearend another, with glass shattering results. No one was hurt, and I'm not necessarily counting this as part of my "good time," exactly, but the noise did accentuate my marveling of the curiosity in an interesting way.

I proceeded to American Apparel, where I intended to buy two boatnecked 3/4 sleeve shirts, one in red and one in black, and a long purple sleeveless boatneck top that they market as a "dress." BTW the founder/owner of American Apparel was my college boyfriend's freshman roommate. He was an industrious perv then and he's an industrious perv now.

They didn't have the tops in my colors. The saleswoman went on about maybe they are phasing these out, we have like, almost no colors, in almost no sizes, and I said, "Well, THAT FIGURES!" And I started tearing down all the merchandise off the racks, all the flimsy cotton items, in sweeping swoops, five double-tiered rows of them--you know how easily those things fall off the hangers when you're not intending them to? Just imagine how effortlessly they tumbled to the floor en masse when meant to. Like they had been just waiting to do that. Like they were dominoes waiting to be played. Fuck you, AA shirts. I want you but I can't have you, and you're not all that anyway.

Next I headed to Kinko's. On the way I was stopped by a man with a plate of free hummus, felafel, and pita samples. I took one. He launched into an inarticulate, self-published novel about how they had opened a new restaurant, the one right behind us, how they just opened and they serve this and that, you can buy it and eat it, at this new place, despite my just trying to thank him for the sample and move on my way. So I said, "IT FIGURES! You mean this sample ISN'T free? The cost is listening to your interminable blather?" And I took the Middle Eastern food sample out of my mouth. I said, well, getting the sample back isn't free, either! And I shoved it into his gaping maw. That shut him up good.

So I got to Kinko's, and instantly remembered how bad the feng shui is there. It's a FedEx and copy center, but it has the feel of an off-track betting establishment. I waited in line and watched the motionless blue tropical fish in the small tank on the counter. "Is your fish dead?" No answer. People ignore you all the time in this city. My neighbors ignore me when I pointedly say hello. I hope they don't meet up with me late at night getting out of the elevator. Will I have a surprise for them.

"This fish doesn't look so good." I tapped the glass of the tank lightly and waited. Eventually the privilege of asking the guy if they copy DVDs and how much it costs was mine. Silly me, I ask a specific question that's perfectly within the purview of the whole Kinko's operation, how can I expect any kind of information in return? "I can take your order, but we send it to the graphics department, which is at Astor place, so you have to go there to find out how much." So you'll take my DVD, and make me however many copies I want, for a price you are not able to disclose to me at this time?"

"IT FIGURES!"

On my way out, I pushed over a copy machine, really just to see if I could do it (I can!). But no subsequent copy machines, because it was work, and I'm not going to work that hard for Kinko's. As I left I said, "Just so you know, someone was brutally murdered in this space once, I can feel it, and furthermore, that fish is watching you and you better watch out. The fish knows everything."

Oh Wow!

So I was Googling myself, like I do constantly, and I found this! I thought you couldn't read the article for free anymore. It's Rev Jen's original I Did It For Science article that led to our Priestess fandom. It's miserably copy edited, but excellently written and so funny.

I just had another follow up with my doctor. I am sad to say I won't see him again for months--unless maybe I call him up and ask him out! Is this just transference, or is he smokin' hot and did we just flirt?!

I love your clogs-n'-scrubs combo and your indeterminate ethnic heritage, doctor. Take a load off. Get on the 'net. Come on, Google me. Even doctors need to waste some time here and there. See post. Call me. Call me. Call me. Can you feel the Internet vibes, doctor?