image courtesy of Getty Images.

My favorite way to spend a Monday evening of late has been to watch the Running of the Rats, held every night on e.90th St. The course the rats travel is small yes, but don’t let the distance of the track dissuade you from witnessing such a transcendent display of nature at its finest. Watch them scurry with the grace of Robert Joffrey from the garbage bags next to mine and my neighbors’ doorsteps to the adjacent curb and, dare I say, beyond. Walking to the corner store takes me back to my days as a recurring contestant on Wild and Crazy Kids, jumping and dodging through obstacle courses and wearing neon. They really are everywhere. Eight in all, I kid you not. Well, seven now. Last night I stepped on one and killed it. But I didn’t feel bad about it because I’m all man. You’re more than welcome to join me next week.

So this brunch thing right. I had brunch for the first time with someone under the age of eighty this past Sunday. And I came to learn that I had brunch all wrong. Apparently, it’s not just for young women in their pseudo-prime, comparing their over-sized belts while debating the pros and cons of various municipal plights. Nor is it just for post-collegiate young men fidgeting about in their white polo shirt while their mother explains how to properly clean the shower drain. And oh, by the way, she says, don’t forget to call your Grandmother. No.

The origins of brunch date back to the days of Bacchus, when the twelve year old boys sobered up in the morning and needed an activity that provided both sustenance for their depleted forms and liquor to numb the pain of it all. Fast forward to last Sunday and it’s just the same - ‘cept with a girl I think I’m dating now wearing broken sunglasses that she just can’t bear to part with (*smile*). We sat and drank, drank and sat, laughing all the while. So, yeah brunch is for alcohol. And maybe an omlette. But boyohboy, was I wrong. Which, let’s be honest, isn’t as surprising.

(i forgot how fun this whole blogging thing is)

I get a “FILTER: Presents…” email in my office InBox every Monday and I like it. And i’ll actually go to some of the suggested events eventhough they tend to be in Brooknon. Today I get one and they’re taking about some MSTRKRFT shindig at the Hiro Ballroom and to email them for tickets. Reading this entry i’m struck by the following request:

…email here with your FULL name, the subject “MSTRKRFT NYC” and why you should be at the show

WHY YOU SHOULD BE AT THE SHOW !? Are you effin’ kidding me. What do they want? Some, “oh i knew them when…” entry. Something with a lot of OMGs. Listen, I want to go. Badly. I’m emailing you aren’t I? Isn’t that enough to display my zeal n’ excitment?

Here was my reply:

TO: ‘RSVPNYC@filtermmm.com’
FROM: [redacted]
SUBJECT: MSTRKRFT NYC

Why I Should Be At The Show?

Because since inception, since day one, that day, that October 18th in 1981 at Cedars Sinai Hospital with the Dodgers stumbling through the playoffs and I stumbling through my own travails, at 10:09pm, a night of nights, with the cityscape playing silhouette games through the hospital windows I vowed, then and there, with my mother’s vagina as my witness, that I would never answer such a stupid, lame ass, teenage daughter fuckin’ question as “Why should you be at the show?” Are you serious? Save it for your craigslist postings assholes.

With that said, can I get +1.

Love as always,

Michael
———————————————————-

I really hope they put me on the list.

Sucks, cos I’ve recently quit…spending $300.

But, if you got flow like Art Lowe than this is a great cause to support. And plus, I heard that you can see your future in Montel’s head.

See the MPP site for more info.

If you have yet to read…

Stephen Colbert’s White House Correspondents’ Dinner Monologue. (Transcript via Daily Kos)

What? You thought me a man of conviction?

People stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to take pictures.

I agree tourist lady, the city maintains some of the most captivating architecture in the nation. It is kind of surreal right? I think that the picture of the Chrysler building you’re currently taking will come out great. And when you explain to your friends and family at home how looming yet magical the cityscape is you will have these shimmering shots of this Art Deco masterpiece to show them. Pretty cool eagles huh? Did you know that they are replicas of Chrysler hood ornaments used at the time? Fucking cool right? Just leave out the part about your trip where some guy with a noticeable paunch in a “This Is a Message T-Shirt” t-shirt murmured “Fuckin’ tourists” to you because when he travels he is so educated and socially aware of his environment that he would never indulge in such a pedestrian practice as taking pictures of the place he is visiting. Just keep in mind that this is same type of asshole who when traveling after 9/11 told people he was from Canada for fear that they would associate this single individual with the actions of his bestfriend/confidante The President. He’s not known for giving people any credit. Except Pitchfork writers.

People Who Need More Than One Attempt to Swipe Metrocard

Take your time. Sometimes it takes a second. That’s why there’s another turnstile right next to this one. And another one next to that one. And another one next to that one. And another one next to that one…

People walking with maps.

Don’t fear carrying around a map and being singled out as an “outsider.” Because, umm, how else are you going to learn your way around. Maps these days are incredibly user-friendly and take pains to point out tourist destinations and attractions. And spending two days with a map and learning your way around is a much better way to get around then having to stop every five minutes and having to find someone who currently is not using their cell phone, listening to their iPod or reading US Weekly to ask for directions.

People who wait on lines to get into places.

Though nobody likes waiting online don’t think that there is one person in the entire city of New York who hasn’t waited on line. Every single person. Who? Hipsters? They don’t go to bars that have lines? *Cough* Motherf*cker *Cough* Last Night’s Party. They’ll wait for hours outside a record store to get a limited edition Belle & Sebastian B-Side with coverart by Damien Hirst or some shit. And while your wait on line may result in some beer-fueled midtown sex theirs will assuredly result in blogging.

People with small dogs.

Umm…fuck, I got nothing. Yeah, I hate these people

1) Michael will not come back.
2) Michael comes back, but with Brazilian bride.
3) Michael will fall in love and cease to talk about anything else.
4) Michael will ask for “long lunch” to go to free clinic his first day back.
4) Michael will get arrested for something both alcohol and female related.
5) Michael will quit first day back.
6) Michael (unfortunately) dies.

The biggest action was apparently on numbers 2, 3 and 4. But as nothing of the sort happened (didn’t even get a kiss) I’m apparently a disappointment to many. The closest to happening was number 6 coming very close to death rock climbing en route to a nude beach. Which totally should have been on the list.

PS: Everybody Netflix Cidade Baixa.