In an effort to prove I do sometimes leave the house for things other than work and feral cats, here's some photos from Matt & Sylvia's party the other night. they live in Greenpoint, and managed to find a place that doesn't yet appear to be played out in the Williamsburg way. And yet, it can boast stuff like nearby bars, bodegas on literally every corner, plus it's on the far side of town from the bulk of the oil spill.

My neighborhood still shuts down too early, and the bodegas that are open 24 hours are not exactly the type of places you want to spend lots of time. Then again, you don't actually get to go in, you boss some schmoe around behind three inches of bulletproof lucite.

The only real drawback to the neighborhood is you're pretty much stuck with the G train. And let's face it, it won't wash. I don't blame the train, I blame the MTA for being fully 5 years behind the times. Every single neighborhood that is serviced by the G has become real estate gold (more or less). Look at this list of areas the G runs through, tell me it doesn't read like the last several editions of NY Magazine's "Next Hottest Neighborhood Our Cool Interns Say are Hot Hot Hot":

Red Hook, Carrol Gardens, Boerum Hill, Fort Greene, Clinton Hill, Bed-Stuy, Williamsburg, Greenpoint, Long Island City. The G connects to the F, A/C, L (Brooklyn), and the E, 7, and V trains in Queens. Not bad, right? So why does the train still suck so much?

I know they're extending the run further into Brooklyn, but that sounds to me like it will take just that much longer for the train to get anywhere. It's pretty impressive that it's been able to handle these ever-more-populous neighborhoods with its dinky 4-car load. I dunno, maybe the folks who live in these neighborhoods learn a kind of zen-like patience I can't begin to imagine. I mean, I used to live off the Classon station for years and somehow survived it, but now that I live on a train line that keeps a pretty tight schedule, it drives me nuts when I find myself standing around that bizarrely run-down Broadway station.

Labels: Friends, Funny to Me, Gentrification, Mass Transit, Parties

The cats and I managed to survive standing around in zero-degree wind chill for two hours Monday morning and are now spayed. Roxy was crazed from the anesthetic, when i released her from her carrier, she ran around the room like it was electrified, variously falling down or slamming her head into the walls. I should have left her in the carrier, but she had been in there several hours and was supposed to be well past the point that she could come out. But she is small for her age and is normally really energetic, so maybe they gave her too much kitty chloroform. She eventually ran out of steam and laid down, but not without injury. She had a big red welt under her eye from running into the door. I felt really bad for her, but she seems to be okay now and is coming around. She even seems to be a little more tame than pre-surgery, hopping onto the couch with me and allowing us to pet her.

The other cat we took in is doing fine, sans histrionics. She has been sleeping a lot on the top floor of the house, where nobody will bug her. We've been trying to think of a name and wanted to continue the recent trend of antiquated proper nouns we've been ascribing to the other cats we've taken in. So far the calico cats we've had have been named: Gladys, Lucy, Flossie and Roxy. I like these old lady names (though Roxy has a slatternly bent to it) and the new cat has a similar deportment as Gladys, making her a prime target of some doily-fringed moniker of old.

With a little googling, we found lists of the most popular baby names by decade. Focusing on the names of the 1910's, I was surprised to find not only every one of the above cat names, but countless others that were downright bizarre. You know how people like to poke fun at nontraditional "black" baby names? This list proves how there really is nothing new under the sun.

The list is taken from some kind of database that lists each name by actual number of babies born that decade. Of our already-named cats, Gladys leads the pack with 4,778, Lucy has 1,564, Flossie has 328, and Roxie (close enough!) with 166. There's a lot of good old-lady cat names that we'd heard of on the list, but a whole slew of them were unknown to me. A sampling:

Avis, Bernadine, Birdie, Bulah, Dessie, Dovie, Effie, Elda, Elfrieda, Elnora, Era, Erna, Essie, Eula Nettie , Exie, Fern, Florine, Floy, Germaine, Gussie, Hattie, Hertha, Hettie, Ila, Iola, Iona, Jettie, Juanita, Leola, Leota, Letha, Ludie, Luella, Lula, Mafalda, Mamie, Mattie, Mazie, Melba, Merle, Mittie, Mozelle, Myrtice, Myrtie, Myrtis, Nedra, Neva, Novella, Ocie, Ola, Oleta, Ollie, Oma, Ona, Ora, Orpha, Otilia, Ouida, Palma, Pearlie, Retha, Reva, Rilla, Theda, Tressie, Vada, Verda, Vesta, Wava, Zella, Zona

Those are just some that caught my eye, there's a lot more on that list. And these aren't individual examples, either; the list excludes names with less than 29 instances. My personal favorites are Elfrieda and Floy, though neither seems applicable to this cat. We've been rotating a series of names off the list, since she wouldn't know her name from a hole in the ground anyway.

Labels: Babies, Cat Fixin', Cats, Funny to Me

I haven't posted much here lately, but there are lots of pictures on my Flickr site. Besides the obligatory cat photos, there's some photos of the baby shower we attended on Saturday. I feel so grown up.

The shower finally gave us a reason to go into the Kidz & Co. store that opened up on the corner of our street. When the place opened several months ago, our dim hopes for a bar or bakery or even a Conway were dashed, and we just learned to live with yet another store that we had no use for on the block.

But our friends breeding gave us shopping rites, and man, baby clothes are cheap! Especially at this south Bushwick outlet. We chose a dark-blue hoodie with a printed pattern of gold dollar signs and diamonds. It's meant for a 12-month old, but clothes like that are meant to be worn large. Even though the baby will live in Chelsea, in case she comes to Brooklyn, she'll know just what to wear.

Labels: Babies, Bushwick, Funny to Me

Somehow in all my years living in this city, I don't think I've ever gotten coffee served to me in one of those "We are happy to serve you," Greek-Styley paper coffee cups. I am of course familiar with them, as an icon of New York City, and have been known to buy coffee on the go from time to time. But somehow I never happen upon a vendor who uses the famous design.

I read up on the cup, it was designed by a Leslie Buck in 1963, who named it "The Anthora." This was an apparent misspelling of the Greek word, "Amphora," which refers to a vessel meant for carrying wine or oil (note such vessel on the cup, nice!). Though a Czech immigrant himself, Buck's inspiration for the design was in the fact that most diners in those days were owned and operated by folks of Greek descent. A research topic for another day: Why did so many Greeks open diners in America and where did they all go?

Anyway, cool cup; I never get one. Until the other day! Or so I thought. On my way to work, I stopped off at a coffee cart, mostly because the coffee in my office sucks and I was hankering for something at least diner-quality. The guy handed me my coffee, I saw a flash of navy blue and beige lettering and got excited. Finally! I got one!

Not so much:
Now, there have been several variations on the original theme, but this is pretty lame. It's just sad, isn't it? Not only is the design a pale pretender to the original, with its pitiful grouped squares, 'sketch-style' coffee cups, and mirthless sans-serif font, but these guys aren't even happy to serve me, merely "pleased." And frankly, I don't think I even buy that.

To their credit, they do give you coffee and a bagel for one dollar, not bad for 2007, I guess.

And now, for Al, the Propaganda Cup:

Labels: Bad Stuff, Coffee, Funny to Me

So Tumbleweed the kitten went to the vet and after a lot of poking and prodding, he was deemed disease and parasite-free. I guess this is one of those situations where I will be glad to get this confirmation form the vet, and not focus on the money I just blew to have this guy tell me he's fine. In fact, form the moment we brought him home, he started acting better, playing and eating more regularly.

He still lacks the vigor of some of the other kittens, but he's getting better. All the other cats like him, especially Rudy (pictured) and Jefe, who groom him and play with him without getting too violent. His personality is already perfect, as soon as he puts on some more weight, he'll be ready to go.

Speaking of going, Gladys and Ira departed this weekend to their new homes. Rudy was supposed to go but his owner had to reschedule for next weekend. Fine with me, he's a lovely little cat. This week I'm focusing on finding Chester the Russian Blue a new home, and working on his sister Monkey to get her better socialized. She had taken to hiding in the basement a lot, so we're trying to force her to deal with us more directly. Meanwhile our other hard case, Baby Bones, has been letting us pet him under the right situations, which is a huge step in his development. If things keep up at this pace, we'll be all out of kittens in a couple of weeks. The house already feels empty but it will be good to have fewer felines running around: my allergies have been going nuts lately.

I haven't considered myself allergic since I was a kid, but with the dander of so many different cats present these days, my fragile system can't keep up. The upside is it forces me to clean house way more often than I would otherwise, but it's never enough. I keep thinking about getting one of those little air sanitizers that you wear around your neck, but I'm walking a pretty thin line already. If I become the Crazy Cat Guy Who Wears an Air Conditioner Around his Neck, I'll never be able to leave the house again.

Instead, I'll stick with being That Guy Who Looks Like Moby To Drunk People. While out the other night these people came up to me and asked for my autograph. I explained I was not in fact Moby, but then they said they didn't care and wanted the autograph anyway. I thought they were joking, but then another guy came up and excitedly asked, "Did he sign??" So I signed on the condition that they give Mark a cigarette. Would the real Moby do that?

Labels: Cats, Funny to Me, kittens

Taking a break from kittens for a moment, let's look at the evolution of guinea pigs over the past years. Maybe these breeds were around when I was growing up, but I sure don't remember them. I had plain guinea pigs, my favorite being an agouti (like the one pictured on the left), whose markings kind of resemble what wild guinea pigs look like. Sorta looks like a groundhog.

Besides that, I knew of a couple of odd breeds, such as the Peruvian, whose hair grows long and straight and basically turns them into a living toupee. Then there's the Abyssinians, with the cowlicks all over, permanent bed-head. I thought that was pretty much it, but science has been working to increase guinea pig exoticness to unheard-of degrees.

For instance, you can now get a "sphinx" guinea pig, a mostly-hairless pig that reveals just how hippo-like they really are. Some also like sharpeis, all wrinkled and rubbery looking. There are several other newish breeds, some are cute, some less so.



What in god's name were they thinking when they came up with the "Coronet" breed? It's basically a long-hair bred with a crested pig so you end up with an embarrassing rodent sporting a mullet. Is this animal cruelty at its worst?

No, actually this is:

Labels: Animals, Funny to Me, Pets, Photos

If I may step away from kittens for a moment (okay I forgot to bring in the newest pictures), I want to do something actually blog-related for once, namely link to a couple sites that merit attention.

First up is Vice Magazine's blog. Vice's main site is blocked when I'm at work and generally I'm pretty sick of the magazine and the way its record label automatically ruins any band it touches. But its blog, which is just on a Typepad subdomain, often has good stuff. Case in point, brief interviews with Indians representing each caste of its society. The Indian Caste system is something that's always fascinated me, especially since in the US, we're not supposed to have such delineations. But of course, we totally do but we're not supposed to speak of it. Capitalism is supposed to smooth all of it over, but all it does is build resentment in my estimation. But India, with its rigidly defined classes (and many subclasses), whenever you ask somebody there how they feel about it, they're always like "Oh, it's great! Everybody loves it!"

Secondly is Cracked Magazine. You may know this magazine from your youth as mostly-lame ripoff of Mad Magazine (which was itself a lame ripoff of the Kurtzman-era Mad Magazine). But the web version (I dunno if there is a print version anymore) is replete with mildly amusing articles that appeal to the Baby-Bust generation. At least males from this generation. Some hit that pointless ranking gene that seems to be present in guys, ie, "The 7 Most Underrated Movie Henchmen" (including that "Kill Frogs" guy from The Muppet Movie). Some are actually pretty astute, despite their sophomoric inspiration, such as "The 5 Biggest Pricks in Congress."


For sheer day-wasting, Cracked is doing its darnedest to please (see Hateful Stereotypes Behind 5 Lovable Cereal Mascots). I prefer this to the reading-the-headline-only Onion. The content on Cracked is much more in line with my type of mind-wandering, where I'll be doing some vaguely work-related, say, editing PDF file names to match my arcane filing techniques and it'll occur to me, "I wonder how many other famous people are Scientologists that I don't even know about." Voila! The Top 10 Secret Celebrity Scientologists to the rescue!

Labels: Funny to Me, Good Stuff, Web

Freddy the Formerly Stray Cat scared us the other night when she climbed over the back fence and into the church yard behind it. She wouldn't come back, bedding down in an old milk crate and staring at me critically when I tried to convince her to come back inside. I feared we'd have to start all over with her, slowly luring her back to the house, but the next day she ran into the kitchen like nothing had changed. But it had ...

On a previous night, she got into a growling match with a big male cat that had traipsed into the yard. Now it seems she and this cat were pals; they slept next to each other in the church yard and hung out together on the patio. Not only that, but her ambassadorship seems to be attracting others. The other night we were sitting in the living room when I noticed a cat sitting on the kitchen counter. This is not unusual, but it wasn't one of our cats. It was a Russian Blue, looking pretty much show-quality, if a little on the thin side. He had come through the open window that sits above the counter. And Freddy's original friend kept lookout on the window sill. It then occurred to me that I had left that window open the night before in case Freddy decided to return, so they'd probably already done a dry run for this infiltration.

I don't know if these cats are strays (gently used) or feral (Born Free), but they bolted when we inched over towards them. The Blue cat really was a lot better-looking than pretty much any of our cats, it makes me wonder if I can trade some of them in. But we haven't seen it since. Meanwhile, the parade of neighborhood cats continues unabated.

Out on the street there are tons of street cats that appear to go from stoop to stoop looking for handouts. We keep getting visited by a calico kitten who momentarily garnered my sympathies because I thought she was covered in her own blood. I carried her out to the back yard and stuffed her full of cat food. Then I noticed the 'blood' splashed on her side much more closely resembled Kool-aid. I guess that's 'street smarts.'

Labels: Brooklyn, Bushwick, Cats, Funny to Me, Pets, The Yard

You know how sometimes when you drink you end up doing things you later regret? Well, this happened to me the other night. I awoke on Sunday with a pounding head and the sobering realization that at 3:30 the night before I was singing "Captain Jack" because Alex knew how to play it on the piano. Sure it could be construed as an amusing party-type moment, but the more I thought about it, the worse it seemed. Now I keep thinking, "What if the neighbors were trying to sleep? What if their bed is right on the other side of the piano-room wall? Oh god I was singing Billy Joel. I mean, please. Billy Joel."

Luckily, my body shut itself down soon after. My only solace is that I think the neighbors know I live in the lower part of the house, and will blame it on Buzz. They think he's trouble anyway.

Labels: Bushwick, Friends, Funny to Me, House, Neighbors

Look what you missed out on. Actually, I'm not sure who made more a spectacle of themselves: Johnny, whose job it is to be drunk and obnoxious onstage, or Mark (L), who managed a rare feat, getting cut off at an illegal bar in a semi-legal performance room. He was better-behaved the second night, though there was some hollering observed.

Labels: Bands, Friends, Funny to Me

I just realized I'm hitting the stride of the longest holiday drought for the whole year. After a run of holidays that gives me a day off at least once a month for 6 months, the next holiday I get is Memorial Day. That's like 2 months away! And it's at the END of the month too! Of course, some people don't get all these days off (even I feel politically unsure of Columbus Day, but I'll take the day off, sure). These are my holidays:

UNITED STATES 2007 Holidays Date	Holiday
01/01/2007	New Year's Day
01/15/2007	Martin Luther King's Birthday
02/19/2007	Presidents Day
05/28/2007	Memorial Day
07/04/2007	Independence Day
09/03/2007	Labor Day
10/08/2007	Columbus Day
11/12/2007	Veterans Day
11/22/2007	Thanksgiving Day
12/25/2007	Christmas Day

The way I see it, this dearth of holidays reminds me that we have several months for which we should be nominating for new holidays. Here's my suggestions for the months I'm not currently getting long weekends:

• March 21: Jimmy Legs Memorial Day. To commemorate those few days last March when the nation held its breath and I wasn't allowed to leave the hospital until they ran me through every expensive piece of machinery in the place (including the machine that goes "Pinnng!")
• April 14: Birthday/Unbirthday Day. It's a real birthday for Buzz, Abby, and Janice, and probably some other people. So let's all pretend it's our birthday too (this will also mean 50 Cent will always be able to find work in the future).
• June 15: June Appreciation Day. I always looked forward to June, but it seems to go by too quickly. Before I know it, it's the 4th of July, it's hot and humid, and I have the sneaking suspicion I've just wasted a whole month. This won't stop that, but at least I won't waste this day redesigning the background image for a PowerPoint presentation.
• August 7: Throw Bottles in Your Neighbor's Yard Day. This holiday, celebrated weekly by my neighbors, gets the solemn, national attention it deserves.

Labels: Funny to Me, Holidays, Office

I was trying to come up with a follow-up post for the animal longevity post to list the relative intelligence of pets, which is my other major issue. You sit there and watch your cat running around and you wonder "Why is he doing that? Does he understand he can't fit under that? Is he a moron?" But alas, there is no helpful list on the web for this that I was able to fine. I have read that cats basically have the intelligence of a 2-year old human. Pigs supposedly are even smarter, at the level of a 3-year old. And of course, cockatiels are on par with 75-year old Mensa members.

I went to the pet store yesterday and saw a cockatiel playing with this rope/wood-block/fuzzy thing, so I thought the birds would like it. I've read that, whatever their intelligence, cockatiels are smart enough to get bored, like teenagers. And what teenager wouldn't be enchanted by a ropy, woody, fuzzy toy? When I showed it to Cheeks, he recoiled in horror, hissing at it like it was a ferret dipped in poison. Giggles flew up onto his perch in the window and threatened to bite if I came near him with it (I did not name these birds). I guess they weren't bored, for those moments. But my dream of getting them to ride a tiny tricycle is probably over.

Labels: Funny to Me, Pets

Not that anybody cares, but here's a list of how long some animals are supposed to live. One thinks of such things from time to time, thoughts like "If this cat dies, maybe then I can get another, better one." Now that I see the average life span for a cat is 25 years, I guess I must learn to table these thoughts for a while. Also, since this is my first time living with exotic birds, I am fascinated by the fact that they can live for much longer than seem necessary. In cockatiel years, I should already be dead, but if I was a bird I bet I would have packed a lotta living into those years. But since I have another 30-40 years to fool around with, I feel no need to rush.

I excerpted the full list to just some animals that caught my eye. I think it's amazing that a Great Horned Owl can live to be 68. Of course, hamsters and gerbils again prove their merit as children's pets since they only live 4 or 5 years. But any of the larger birds seem to live forever. Even the lobster rates pretty high on the list. Poor little fella, I can picture it living 48 years only to have its last two years snuffed out when it gets thrown in a pot of boiling water.

African Grey Parrot 50
Cat 25
Chinchilla 20
Cockatiel 32
Conure 25
Dog 22
Domestic Pigeon 26
Gerbil 5
Golden Hamster 4
Great Horned Owl 68
Guinea Pig 8
House Mouse 4
Human 70-80
Lobster 15 (they can live into their 50's!)
Macaw 50
Parrot 80
Pigeon 11
Pionus Parrot 15
Rabbit 9
Sulphur Crested Cockatoo 40
Superb Parrot 36

Labels: Funny to Me, Pets

For a brief time I wrote band previews for the NY Press. Some of the articles appeared largely unretouched, but as time went on, I noticed they were really going through the wringer. Somebody was hacking my tiny blurbs, not to shorten so much as add nonsensical stuff to somehow jazz up my writing. I talked to the shmoe who was doing this and he blamed me for not writing "tight enough." Somehow, adding "Spraying the audience with vomit and cheese" to my write-up of the Ex-Models didn't seem to be tightening anything up, yet he had the final cut. Anyway we were both unceremoniously let go a couple months later.

I was reminded of this heady time in my life today as I read JoshB's latest article in the Press, concerning the reticence of his livery cab driver to take him to my adopted neighborhood of Bushwick Brooklyn. It's a pretty funny read, which I read previously on his own blog. Now, I don't know if his writing is subject to the same dubious knife of editorial re-education, but there are some amusing discrepancies. In describing our house and its occupants' desires, the Press article states

My friends wanted to buy an apartment in Park Slope, sure. Who wouldn’t? Historic brownstones, lush trees, schools without metal detectors. Yet their bank accounts would only let them buy in Bushwick, two minutes from the jackhammer-loud overhead train.

Oh, the indignity of it all! Like I would ever want, of all things, an apartment in Park Slope. I know, none of it matters, it's just filler for the real meat of the story. I just hope it was the work of some anonymous editor and not Mr B Himself. He knows better anyway; we lived for years on the same longitudinal path in Clinton Hill and Crown Heights, respectively (he's still there). Truth be known, I had wanted to buy in Clinton Hill, but even that neighborhood had priced us out long ago, not to mention it is getting progressively full of the kind of reprehensible people I used to think would never cross Flatbush Ave (let alone come into Brooklyn).

But I suppose in terms of dramatic illustration, establishing the dichotomy of The Slope and The 'Shwick makes for a palpably wide spectrum of experience. Still, none of you Slopers better come out here or, you know, we'll beat you with a bat. For an hour!

Labels: Bushwick, Funny to Me, House, Music

There's a Pay-O-Matic Check Cashing shop near my house (there's one in every fine neighborhood, don't you know). Is it just me, or does their logo remind anyone else of the old Mr Yuk logos people put on poison containers? When you see it out of the corner of your eye, it looks like this sour frowny face. It makes me feel sorry for the people who patronize the establishment. Then I realize if I had gone to Pay-O-Matic right when I got my deposit check back from my landlady, she wouldn't have been able to stop payment and proceed to take back two-thirds of said deposit for dubious 'repairs' to the apartment. Then I console myself that it was worth it just to never have to deal with her and her flaky behavior again. Then I realize I too am sporting a sour frowny face, just like the Pay-O-Matic logo. Then I play some Sudoku and forget all my problems.

Ah, Banterist has also noted the peculiar nature of the corporate logo.

Labels: Funny to Me, Renting