Okay, last “Japan vs New York” entry. I got back yesterday and knew I missed home when I actually considered taking the air tran from Newark Airport to Newark Penn Station, to catch the PATH, to catch a subway, to lug my stuff three blocks to my fourth floor walk up, just to feel like I knew what I was doing after a week of not understanding anybody, buying the wrong subway tickets, and getting on the wrong trains. That feeling was fleeting, however, and I took a cab instead.

New Yorkers, as we all know, have a reputation for being rude while the Japanese have the ultra-polite rep. This is true and untrue in several ways. How many? Lemme count em.
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Things I like:

• literary references

• robots that light up, beep, and flirt
• geeky filmmakers
• the rainforest
• teenage girls (not in a weird way — i write for them)
• Shaggy’s “Angel of the Morning” cover
• helper monkeys
• people who sing at the top of their lungs to “Total Eclipse of the Heart”
• the idea of August Strindberg in sexy underwear

I feel very lucky, because tonight I got to experience all of those things. I wish I could write a smartsy, critical review of Heddatron, but instead I’ll just say I’m sad it’s sold out, because I would love to go back again tomorrow.

If the theater gods are reading this (because you know all the cool gods read the metblogs), please, please bring Heddatron back for more shows. In a bigger theater. Tonight I was sitting behind a pole, and I loved the play anyway, but I’d appreciate the chance to see it again in a pole-free environment.

image is from the Heddatron website

I hate doing my laundry and just because the machine looks like a vintage videogame does not make it any more fun.

A couple of weeks ago, I tried my laundromat’s per-pound laundry service. I discovered that it only costs $2.50 extra per week to have somebody else do my laundry, but when I picked up my bag and unpacked my clothes it really hit me that a stranger was folding my underpants. Plus the only person I trust with my precious Ann Taylor Loft sweaters is myself.

I did my laundry by myself yesterday and while I was running home with my damp hang-dry only items, I managed to drop a sweater and a bra. I didn’t find this out until I walked back and saw my blue bra on the ground. My sweater was also there, but not on the ground – some nice person had picked it up and draped it over a fence.
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Because this 3-day, President’s Day, weekend was just a tease, I decided to take today off as well from work.

[One day off and I find out single (and/or not so single) men in NY are being auctioned off... (see Michael's post below for more details, ladies...) I forget how much you can miss in one day in NY.]

Meanwhile, wanting to see how the other half of the City lives, I wake up well after Noon today as opposed to my usual 7:30 am routine. Turned on my computer, but didn’t want to go near it as I didn’t have to. (This is how you miss out on things happening in your world.)

Had 2 cups of coffee leisurely, instead of inhaling it 5 minutes before running out the door – something I would do on a normal work day. Then, I decided to take a shower at 1 pm, the time most work people are picking up lunch to bring back to their desks. I know only because I’ve become one of those scary lunch types myself.

After a 35-minute shower, I made lunch and watched daytime TV. Sammie and Carrie on Days of Our Lives are still fighting over Austin. Lily is pregnant with Holden’s child (maybe?) on As the World Turns.

Bored with that, as I’ve seen it like 10 years ago, I decided to go to Macy’s and visit the makeup counter. (It’s free gift time at Estee Lauder!)

Shopping during the workday is whole new experience! No lines, no pushy customers, and what you need is actually in stock! And this was all at the H&M store in Herald’s Square.

I’m in love with this whole non 9-5 way of life. On the Manhattan-bound L train today, I looked around and realized I must not be the only one.

But, party’s over, it’s back to work tomorrow. The weekend’s 3 more days away, but then again who’s counting (besides me)?

I’ve recently agreed to take part in a charity bachelor auction a friend is putting on for her boss. A little too Saved By the Bell/90210/O.C. for my taste, but any opportunity where I can address a large crowd with a mic from a bully pulpit I’ll not-so-reluctantly oblige. I don’t anticipate pulling down any kind of significant bid, but free liquor is free liqour. (And there’s that whole charity thing too). My self-evaluated sticker price sits comfortably at $2.35 (for everything you see here). I have no idea what it’s gonna be like, but I do know that one of the following NYC personalities will be there. For those of you who will be in attendance please take note so you may bid accordingly:

Occupation: Investment Banker, Hedge Fund Manager, Broker, etc.
Income: $150-350K
Interests: Money, Anal Sex.
Favorite Music: Billy Joel
Favorite Movie: Wall Street
Motto: “i-Bank, therefore I am”

Occupation: Photographer/Dilettante
Income: Undisclosed Trust Fund
Interests: They change every week. This week, homosexuality and homemade pasta.
Favorite Music: What’s that one band called from the UK? Yeah, yeah that one. They’re awesome.
Favorite Movie: Anything by Truffaut or Goddard. I can’t recall the actual titles movies off the top of my head though.
Motto: “What the fuck is breakfast? It’s called brunch. Loser.”

Occupation: W.A.M. (Waiter.Actor.Model)
Income: $25K, but something is gonna happen soon.
Interests: Making it, making it big, dating Kimberly Stewart.
Favorite Music: You’ve probably never heard of them. Oh, and Radiohead.
Favorite Movie: It’s called “The Bar” a movie my and I buddy wrote about our lives as bartenders trying to make it as actors. Darren Aaronofsky’s niece really liked it.
Motto: “I think I’d make a really good Survivor because…”

Full report to follow the event.

I never really had an appreciation for Ukulele playing until I saw this video of a guy in Central Park (specifically in Strawberry Fields) doing his rendition of George Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”. This guy is an amazing player–I had no idea you could rock out on a ukulele that hard! Also, his version of this tune is great. Pic above is a still image from the video. Check out the whole thing here!

With many stores around the country, the Apple Store, like Madame Tussaud’s becomes the place to visit, no matter which mall or city you’re in – even though I think the wax museums lack excitement, orginality or appeal.

I went to the Garden City Apple store to get my mom’s iPod Shuffle fixed – they ended up replacing it.

But what was more interesting was that I did not mind the wait at all because there was so much stuff to do! It was hard to grab an Apple to play with because so many tweeny and teeny boppers were jammed in front of the screens, visiting their MySpace accounts and taking photos.

“Pff“, I thought, this photo taking stuff isn’t for me! That’s for young tweens and teens who want to shimmy around and strut their stuff online. “Look at them, pathetic little monsters out for a cheap thrill,” I thought. A couple of girls were perusing through the photos they had just taken and giggling uncontrollably. I asked them if they were e-mailing the photos to themselves and they giggled “Yes.” So, I decided to find out what all the excitement all through the store was about – I grabbed myself a spot on one of the suckers and went at it.

2 minutes later, I had taken 8 shots of myself in various different poses and applied several effects. I enjoyed myself silly. I even did some wacked out poses but stopped after realizing that I had become the asshole I was hating on earlier.

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Here’s what happened on Friday night.

I’ll start by saying this… I can now check LQ off my list and I NEVER need to step foot in that place again.

In fairness, it’s just not my kind of place. I’m not a fan of Latin Clubs, nor am I a fan of Hip-Hop or Reggaeton. I’m also not a fan of places where guys feel that it’s ok to just grab women because they’re at a club.

Of course, that didn’t seem to bother my co-workers. I guess when you’re used to going to clubs like that, it’s acceptable. So, I decided that it would just be futile to play babysitter.

Around 8:30, birthday girl got upset because of another practice that seems to be acceptable. Turns out that when at these clubs, it’s ok to slap the ass of the girl that you’re dancing with – even if you just met her. Yes, you read that right. I have to say that I came very close to finding that guy and slapping him a few times myself, but I decided I would be better off if I just stayed out of trouble. So, by 9:30, I heard enough, saw enough and walked out. Not a scratch on me or anyone else.

Apparently, grinding isn’t bad enough – these guys take it a step further. The worst part is… these girls let them. So really, I can’t place 100% of the blame on the guys, it’s not all their fault.

My clubbing and babysitting days are over. Michael can take my place.

Taxis and pizza are as definitive to New York as Times Square and the Empire State Building. And so in my little Japan-New York compare and contrast survey, I was anxious to explore the Japanese versions.
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