the heat...it's so hot, so very very hot.....
Like many people, when it is hot out, I do not like to make with the cooking. Our two air conditioners are working so valiantly to cool down ths MoFo place, why would I want to work against those dear, devoted machines. So what do I do? I switch to drinking my meals. I think I am single handedly keeping Bolthouse juices in buisness (at least at the Central Park Foods grocery store). I alternate between the green and the red one, although today I sprung for the espresso soy bottle, now with...whey protein! Woo hoo, cuz usually in order to obtain protein I have to pick up the phone and order sushi. Now I can subsist only on bolthouse juices. The future has arrived and it is wet!

We've been gilded!
Since I didn't leave my apartment yesterday except for about twenty minutes after the hot ball of sadism (or sun) had set, I didn't notice till this afternoon when I went on an iced coffee run.
I would take a picture, but I don't like to have identifying features of where I live on the interbot. Maybe I'll post some neighborhood shots as an example. But for those of you who don't live in upper, upper, but not quite harlem, manhattan--buildings that have gilded window details and gilded wrought iron tips are all owned by Pinnacle--the WORST. MANAGEMENT COMPANY. EVER. Our previous management company had sold us out to these twits last fall, but we had yet to be gilded. For some reason, during the hottest weekend of the year, they have started all this fancifying of our building, complete with nipple lights (those rounded chandeliers with tips in the center), plastering over of scratcheritti, and...gild.
While I still heartily believe Manhattan Valley is an 'up and coming' neighborhood (though I say this softly for fear of accelerated hipsterization), and I would still recommend living here to many many people--do NOT live in a gilded building. Avoid them like the plague. Pinnacle is like that law firm on "Angel" that kept vampires in the basement and served only evil.
Note to Pinnacle--before you raise the rent on the residents of my building, to offset all the 'work' you put into the building FIX THE GODDMAMN WASHING MACHINES that haven't worked in, oh, a year.

So, last Sunday I swung over to the Bastille Day street fair on East 60th street. Due to the quantity of food I consumed there and my impending departure from the streets of New York, I thought I would walk down fifth avenue a little ways. I don't know what possessed me, but I ended up walking all the way down (and over) to the Lower East Side. Once I was down there, I spotted this billboard. Despite intense dehydration and hunger, my second thought after reading it (my first was laughter, if laughter is a thought), was that it was one of those 'your ad here' billboards. Something just didn't ring true about the diction (see all my writing workshops weren't for naught). Of course, after reading gawker and defamer yesterday and today, I see other people were way more on top of this than I was, but what I really want to know about is the giant billboard on the side of the Plaza Hotel. I wish I'd had my camera with me on Sunday so I could have taken a picture to show you guys. It's just bizarre. There's a woman sitting at a fancy-pants table, writing something, while another woman sits on the floor at her feet. What, exactly, are they selling at the plaza? Your own personal minion when you purchase one of their new private residences? Get on that story, Gawker.com!