Sunday, November 27, 2011

Is that an electronic cigarette in your pocket?

Brain tells hand to reach into coat pocket. Hand retrieves what feels like pen. Hands lifts pen-like object to lips. Brain tells mouth to suck. Inhale. Brain is happy. Exhale. Brain is happy. Repeat.
I am addicted and love every minute of it! There are obvious reasons why electronic cigarettes rule: matchless, blue neon light, no stinky clothes. Plus, you can smoke in ridiculous places, like nursing homes, playgrounds and AA meetings.
I know my rules of electronic cigarette etiquette, though. While relaxing on a comfortable rocking chair at my lady doctor's office, I reached into my pocket for a fix. Just as I was about to inhale the sweet smokeless vapor, I noticed a huge pregnant woman with painfully swollen ankles standing nearby. There was no place for her to sit, so in consideration of her condition, I put down my electronic cigarette and continued rocking.
I was never a smoker, unless you count the time in junior high school when on a field trip to release tadpoles into a pond I begged my young substitute teacher for a smoke. I was twelve; she caved. Either I was a really persuasive pre-teen or she was completely disturbed. It was Newports in the schoolyard until high school when we had to go across the street to smoke and that was a drag.
If you're wondering, electronic cigarettes are not like real cigarettes. Real cigarettes are obviously more unhealthy and self-destructive and therefore much more satisfying. They are like Diet Coke, once you get accustomed to that putrid artificial cancer causing sweetener you don't want real sugar. Or like using a vibrator; not like the real thing, but they always deliver.

Friday, November 25, 2011


Instead of skull raping your credit card (even more), make a donation to my church's soup kitchen, where I spend one hour per week not cursing and thinking perverted thoughts (well that's a lie!). I just donated $100 to the Greenpoint Church Soup Kitchen because hungry people need to experience food comas, too. Please donate and share. Read a letter from the Pastor Ann at Greenpointers.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Why is there a dead bird carcass and all these crazy people here?

I am bringing Jon (new awesome BF) to Thanksgiving in Queens. Boy, is he in for it! Nonna is making her last lasagna - again! And we are going to wear these matching authentic guido track suits just for the occasion.

He knows the rules:

1. When Nonna asks, "you Italian?" he is encouraged to lie to her ninety year old face. And when she asks, "You gotta goo jobba?" he won't need to lie because he is a tree genius (Watch this amazing video.) Going into too much detail might confuse her, so in order to ice the crazy cake I will tell her he is a tree doctor. The word doctor is like a massage for an old Sicilian womens' brains. I grew up with, "Jane, why you no become-uh the doct-uh?" She still asks and I'm thirty and have been working as a professional photographer for a long time. I guess there is still hope.

2. Pace yourself but eat everything. He has been power eating over the last few days so he can finish the "last lasagna" followed by an entire thanksgiving meal, followed by cannolis, which are as unnecessary as lasagna on Thanksgiving. (Aren't we celebrating the pilgrims destroying native american culture and why sharing is very bad?) Unbutton your jeans or better yet wear a spandex waist band. Purge in the bathroom. Whatever it takes, but eat it all! Eating shirtless or in a wife beater is acceptable.

3. Don't try to count the cats. There are many nooks and crannies Marcy has hidden them in. If she does disclose the number, she likes you, but is most likely lying or has lost count. Keep the number confidential. And when Nonna bats them off the table with her leopard print cane, understand that while we are not animal abusers, Nonna is, and if you try to stop her, she may mistake your for a cat.

4. You will be interrupted and confused. Rocco mumbles in Italian and in English with his mouth full of food, but never chicken; he hates chicken. We don't know what he is saying, but if you do understand anything it's usually pretty demented and amazing. He will not listen to anything you are saying, but if it looks like he is listening he is actually waiting for you to stop talking so he can talk. And if you talk for too long he will interrupt you. If you talk about cameras, he will love you. And you will most likely be privy information regarding Charlie, the Catahoula dog's, extensive social life and stellar bowel movements. Nod and smile.

5. Among the five of us, there will be most likely ten conversations going at once. You will feel like you need headphones, the noise reduction type, so bring them. When the feeling of "Why is there a dead bird carcass and all these crazy people here?" sets in, make a run for it. We will all understand. You have a choice. We don't.

Monday, November 21, 2011


I was honored to recently take a tour of every Greenpoint slice place with the one and only Pizza Commander. Results coming soon. In the meantime, check out his review of New Park Pizza, the famous pizza joint in one of the guido-ist neighborhoods in Queens, Howard Beach. I love me some New Park on the way to a beach day out in Rockaway!

New Park Pizza Review on Me, Myself & Pie by Pizza Commander

Thursday, November 17, 2011


I am taking a class tonight at Flux Factory in LIC to learn how to interview like a journalist since I am now working on Greenpointers. We were assigned homework which is to read interviews. I have been thinking about monogamy lately and this is an interesting take on it from one of the interviews:

"Why monogamy? Listen, you have to negotiate those things in a relationship. I wouldn’t choose monogamy. But it’s what she wants and, frankly, I get things in exchange for sacrificing certain things. So that’s why most people choose monogamy: because it’s worth it. She's a phenomenal person because she puts up with everything that I could possibly throw at her and she’s un-phased by any of the costume work [and] the bouncy rides. She was with me throughout all of that taxidermy stuff, you know? She would come over to my house and I would have rotting dog and submersion rubbing alcohol in the closet and she would say, "This is weird, but okay. I’m getting used to the smell." So she has paid her dues when it comes to me. " - Nate Hill

Here is the full interview posted by my teacher Pauline Peechin