Blog

Altoona Odds and Ends

Before I post our victorious adventures at the Search4Yaris scavanger hunt, I need to get a few lingering Altoona photos out of the queue.The pic above is a stream 1.7 miles back into the State Game Lands behind my parent's house. The water is potable and cold. The place is only ever visited by deer and deer hunters, so the moss is pristine on the rocks and it all looks untrodden. There are wild brook trout in the pools so skitterish that you can only see them dart away as you are still many feet from the stream.
Here you see my folks, waiting in the driveway for our arrival. It's kind of a tradtion.

The next shot is The Meadows in Greenwood, home of the world's greatest frozen custard. Can someone explain to me the difference between ice cream, custard, and gelato?

That tree I'm pointing at tried to kill my brother. I would tell the story, but then neither my nephew nor my children would ever be allowed to ride a motorcycle. I probably would be forbidden too.

The red berry my mom is pointing out is a teaberry. Not only edible, but quite tasty. I'd like to describe what it tastes like, but it really just tastes like teaberry.

This last shot is some great steaks from Dan and Kelly that my parents shared with us. Look at those grill lines! I mean look at them! Perfect rhombuses.


Here's some Sites of the Day:
– Famke Janssen (model, actress, neighbor to STC) seeks a storytelling boyfriend. I tell stories. Hmmm.
– If you sell a broken laptop on eBay, you better delete the harddrive. Sorta not safe for work.

Before I post our victorious adventures at the Search4Yaris scavanger hunt, I need to get a few lingering Altoona photos out of the queue.
The pic above is a stream 1.7 miles back into the State Game Lands behind my parent's house. The water is potable and cold. The place is only ever visited by deer and deer hunters, so the moss is pristine on the rocks and it all looks untrodden. There are wild brook trout in the pools so skitterish that you can only see them dart away as you are still many feet from the stream.
Here you see my folks, waiting in the driveway for our arrival. It's kind of a tradtion.

The next shot is The Meadows in Greenwood, home of the world's greatest frozen custard. Can someone explain to me the difference between ice cream, custard, and gelato?

That tree I'm pointing at tried to kill my brother. I would tell the story, but then neither my nephew nor my children would ever be allowed to ride a motorcycle. I probably would be forbidden too.

The red berry my mom is pointing out is a teaberry. Not only edible, but quite tasty. I'd like to describe what it tastes like, but it really just tastes like teaberry.

This last shot is some great steaks from Dan and Kelly that my parents shared with us. Look at those grill lines! I mean look at them! Perfect rhombuses.


Here's some Sites of the Day:
– Famke Janssen (model, actress, neighbor to STC) seeks a storytelling boyfriend. I tell stories. Hmmm.
– If you sell a broken laptop on eBay, you better delete the harddrive. Sorta not safe for work.

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Water

While conquering Mount Davis last weekend, we were also able to tour the grounds of nearby Falling Water, Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterpiece of architecture. Unfortunately, you must take a tour to gain entrance into the house, and being that this was Memorial Day weekend throngs of folks had already overbooked the place. However, the less expensive stroll through the ground still offers the best views. The house straddles a water fall and definitely does harmonize with the forest and hill. From the path you can best see the reinforced concrete cantilevers, the house’s most notorious feature.

We also made a stop at Ohiopyle, PA to gaze at the scenic and popular rapids on the Youghiogheny River. If the Gulf of Mexico is the Redneck Riveria, than this place is the Redneck Niagra Falls. Not too far from the ‘Burgh, there wereYunzers, choppers, and pleatherette cigarette case as far as the eye could see. I’m allowed to make fun, as my neck has always been more pink than white.

Links:
– Falling Water Official Site
– Wikipedia on Falling Water
– Ohiopyle State Park

While conquering Mount Davis last weekend, we were also able to tour the grounds of nearby Falling Water, Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterpiece of architecture. Unfortunately, you must take a tour to gain entrance into the house, and being that this was Memorial Day weekend throngs of folks had already overbooked the place. However, the less expensive stroll through the ground still offers the best views. The house straddles a water fall and definitely does harmonize with the forest and hill. From the path you can best see the reinforced concrete cantilevers, the house’s most notorious feature.

We also made a stop at Ohiopyle, PA to gaze at the scenic and popular rapids on the Youghiogheny River. If the Gulf of Mexico is the Redneck Riveria, than this place is the Redneck Niagra Falls. Not too far from the ‘Burgh, there wereYunzers, choppers, and pleatherette cigarette case as far as the eye could see. I’m allowed to make fun, as my neck has always been more pink than white.

Links:
– Falling Water Official Site
– Wikipedia on Falling Water
– Ohiopyle State Park

Join Me for A Scavanger Hunt

Tomorrow is the Search4Yaris scavanger hunt, Kerstin’s design class at the Art Institute of New York (once again, she’s the teacher, not a student) organized. Ildi and I are headed over. The meeting time is 1:30 at Union Square. We could all do brunch first at Pete’s Tavern.
Sign-up here. Now. Seriously, what else are you doing tomorrow?

Also, I promised Kerstin I would promote this much more than I have. If you have a blog, do me a favor and add a link to their site and this entry. C’mon, it’s for the children. And the Toyotas.

Today’s graphic courtesy of http://www.scavanger.de

Tomorrow is the Search4Yaris scavanger hunt, Kerstin’s design class at the Art Institute of New York (once again, she’s the teacher, not a student) organized. Ildi and I are headed over. The meeting time is 1:30 at Union Square. We could all do brunch first at Pete’s Tavern.

Sign-up here. Now. Seriously, what else are you doing tomorrow?

Also, I promised Kerstin I would promote this much more than I have. If you have a blog, do me a favor and add a link to their site and this entry. C’mon, it’s for the children. And the Toyotas.

Today’s graphic courtesy of http://www.scavanger.de

Mount Davis – The highest point in Pennsylvania

Hike StatisticsDate(s): 5/28/2006
Route: High Point Trail from the Picnic Area
Distance: 0.9 miles (Other longer hikes are in the area)
Elevation: 3213 ft.
Elevation Change: 56 ft. (Less than what I ascend to get into my five flight walk-up)
Time: About 10 minutes
Download Waypoints

Good ole PA! Land of my birth. And the next highpoint to conquer in my quest to do 49 (Alaska is just too much). Pennsylvania is a long state. Ask anyone who has driven across the top via route 80 going from New York to Chicago. It goes on forever (about eight hours). Actually, only the 32nd state in size, it feels bigger because it’s divided by the Allegheny Mountains slicing across the center from southwest to northeast. Like poles on a magnet, Pittsburgh and Philadelphia are opposites sitting on each end of the state, separated by these Appalachian peaks.

Back in the day, crossing these mountains was no small task. It took a gazillion engineers something like three hundred years to create the Horseshoe Curve to connect the East Coast to the rest of the country via the railroad. This is a story for another day. Today’s tale is how I convinced my girlfriend and parents to take a drive PA’s highest point, Mount Davis.

Although PA has cities at the ends, the rest is farms in the valleys surrounded by forest-covered ridgelines. It’s all trees. This makes for lovely autumns, but sometimes monotonous summer drives in a sea of green.

Ildi learned a valuable lesson about my father, air-conditioning, and being prepared. My parent’s new Honda Pilot was actually a roomy dream. The reason so many people have SUVs is that they are really, really comfortable and nice to drive.
Mount Davis is in southwest central PA, not too far from Somerset. It’s about 90 miles from either Altoona or Pittsburgh. If you come from the east, take 219 to Business 219 in Meyersdale. There look for signs for Mt. Davis Road or SR (State Route) 2004. This pic shows what you’ll see if you are not seeing trees. It also shows how PA has decent signage for its back roads.
The “mountain” is actually just a hill on a plateau, no where near as dramatic or worthy for hiking as Nittany Mountain in State College or the Pine Creek Gorge in Tioga County. Still it is the highest point. Thus we go.
Before the ardous climb, we bolstered our strength with sandwiches the girls had packed. Mine was lebanon bologna. Even though it was a holiday weekend, we had the picnic area mostly to ourselves. There are restrooms in case you were wondering. Composting restrooms, Ildi notes.
Spring had reached PA and the buttercups were in bloom.
I don’t know the name of this flower, so I’m going to christen it the Boring Lily. I promise to limit the flower shots during the next hike. Note, the tops of these flowers were about the size of nickels. They are not daisies.
The highpoint is marked on the road, but in my opinion, if you stopped there it would not count.
Apparantly some locals agree and took some shots at the sign with a shotgun. In seriousness, I’ve seen so many signs shot with all sorts of weapons when I am in the country. I never did this. What the hell would compel someone to shoot a sign? I hope in some weird way it causes sterilization.
The trail does not start from the road, but rather from the back right corner of the picnic area…
…And then it is over. My parent’s drove the car around and we almost tied. On the sandstone behind us is the geological survey marker, indicating the true highpoint.
Here’s the shot for the records. Mount Davis was not recognized as the highpoint of the state until 1921. Until then, it was just a bump on the much larger Negro Mountian. Legend has it this mountian was named after a black man who was a hero during the French and Indian War. Local knowledge states that Negro Mountain once had a much less politically correct name that wraps the whole thing in unpleasantness. I’ll admit PA is a bit hickish in the middle, but we did wear blue back in the Civil War (or the War of Northern Aggression, as NC-native Erik calls it).
The site has a fire tower. My dad and I climbed it. I met this nice couple, who are also fellow highpointers. She was on #2 and this was his first. Both Ildi and my parents now are done with number one. Once you start counting, you are hooked.
The only view from the top was my family below siiting beside the point. That woman with brass hair is not with our group.
“During the upheaval called the Appalachian Revolution.” Awesome.

Even though the view was just so-so, the weather and sandwiches were both awesome. Plus, this was my first highpoint I got to share with my parents and Ildi. This is my seventh highpoint. Hopefully, I can include more loved ones, more state learning, more locals, and despite what they all want, more hiking.

In the next post, some Pennsylvania attractions near Mt. Davis: the rapids at Ohiopyle and Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Water.

Links:
– AmericasRoof.com Mt. Davis report
– Backpacker.com Mt. Davis
– Dept. of Conservation and Natural Resource Mt. Davis site

Hike Statistics
Date(s): 5/28/2006
Route: High Point Trail from the Picnic Area
Distance: 0.9 miles (Other longer hikes are in the area)
Elevation: 3213 ft.
Elevation Change: 56 ft. (Less than what I ascend to get into my five flight walk-up)
Time: About 10 minutes
Download Waypoints

Good ole PA! Land of my birth. And the next highpoint to conquer in my quest to do 49 (Alaska is just too much). Pennsylvania is a long state. Ask anyone who has driven across the top via route 80 going from New York to Chicago. It goes on forever (about eight hours). Actually, only the 32nd state in size, it feels bigger because it’s divided by the Allegheny Mountains slicing across the center from southwest to northeast. Like poles on a magnet, Pittsburgh and Philadelphia are opposites sitting on each end of the state, separated by these Appalachian peaks.

Back in the day, crossing these mountains was no small task. It took a gazillion engineers something like three hundred years to create the Horseshoe Curve to connect the East Coast to the rest of the country via the railroad. This is a story for another day. Today’s tale is how I convinced my girlfriend and parents to take a drive PA’s highest point, Mount Davis.

Although PA has cities at the ends, the rest is farms in the valleys surrounded by forest-covered ridgelines. It’s all trees. This makes for lovely autumns, but sometimes monotonous summer drives in a sea of green.

Ildi learned a valuable lesson about my father, air-conditioning, and being prepared. My parent’s new Honda Pilot was actually a roomy dream. The reason so many people have SUVs is that they are really, really comfortable and nice to drive.
Mount Davis is in southwest central PA, not too far from Somerset. It’s about 90 miles from either Altoona or Pittsburgh. If you come from the east, take 219 to Business 219 in Meyersdale. There look for signs for Mt. Davis Road or SR (State Route) 2004. This pic shows what you’ll see if you are not seeing trees. It also shows how PA has decent signage for its back roads.
The “mountain” is actually just a hill on a plateau, no where near as dramatic or worthy for hiking as Nittany Mountain in State College or the Pine Creek Gorge in Tioga County. Still it is the highest point. Thus we go.
Before the ardous climb, we bolstered our strength with sandwiches the girls had packed. Mine was lebanon bologna. Even though it was a holiday weekend, we had the picnic area mostly to ourselves. There are restrooms in case you were wondering. Composting restrooms, Ildi notes.
Spring had reached PA and the buttercups were in bloom.
I don’t know the name of this flower, so I’m going to christen it the Boring Lily. I promise to limit the flower shots during the next hike. Note, the tops of these flowers were about the size of nickels. They are not daisies.
The highpoint is marked on the road, but in my opinion, if you stopped there it would not count.
Apparantly some locals agree and took some shots at the sign with a shotgun. In seriousness, I’ve seen so many signs shot with all sorts of weapons when I am in the country. I never did this. What the hell would compel someone to shoot a sign? I hope in some weird way it causes sterilization.
The trail does not start from the road, but rather from the back right corner of the picnic area…
…And then it is over. My parent’s drove the car around and we almost tied. On the sandstone behind us is the geological survey marker, indicating the true highpoint.
Here’s the shot for the records. Mount Davis was not recognized as the highpoint of the state until 1921. Until then, it was just a bump on the much larger Negro Mountian. Legend has it this mountian was named after a black man who was a hero during the French and Indian War. Local knowledge states that Negro Mountain once had a much less politically correct name that wraps the whole thing in unpleasantness. I’ll admit PA is a bit hickish in the middle, but we did wear blue back in the Civil War (or the War of Northern Aggression, as NC-native Erik calls it).
The site has a fire tower. My dad and I climbed it. I met this nice couple, who are also fellow highpointers. She was on #2 and this was his first. Both Ildi and my parents now are done with number one. Once you start counting, you are hooked.
The only view from the top was my family below siiting beside the point. That woman with brass hair is not with our group.
“During the upheaval called the Appalachian Revolution.” Awesome.

Even though the view was just so-so, the weather and sandwiches were both awesome. Plus, this was my first highpoint I got to share with my parents and Ildi. This is my seventh highpoint. Hopefully, I can include more loved ones, more state learning, more locals, and despite what they all want, more hiking.

In the next post, some Pennsylvania attractions near Mt. Davis: the rapids at Ohiopyle and Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Water.

Links:
– AmericasRoof.com Mt. Davis report
– Backpacker.com Mt. Davis
– Dept. of Conservation and Natural Resource Mt. Davis site

Lena’s Spaghetti

In books by Somerset Maughm the typesetter always puts the word spaghetti in italics because it was considered exotic. Even until just twenty years ago, in this country Italian was considered ethnic food. However, it’s such a part of my life, I see it as just one branch of American food; all because of a restaurant in Altoona, PA called Lena’s. It’s my families favorite and I have been taken there since I was a little kid. Lena has pinched my cheek.
The sauce recipe was created by Lena herself and is now cooked by her son and grandson. It’s the epitome of a family restaurant and my folks know all the staff and normally most of the patrons. All this is wonderful, but the hook is the sauce. It’s a simple tomato sauce that must also contain crack. When I’m a away from home, I crave what you see in today’s pic: homade noodles with two meatballs, all covered in that heavenly gravy.

DineSite.com Lena’s Cafe Write-up
…

Site of the Day: Via Gothamist, the Times has a graphic of all the strip clubs in the city. Nice. Also, they have a shot of some guy with tongs.

In books by Somerset Maughm the typesetter always puts the word spaghetti in italics because it was considered exotic. Even until just twenty years ago, in this country Italian was considered ethnic food. However, it’s such a part of my life, I see it as just one branch of American food; all because of a restaurant in Altoona, PA called Lena’s. It’s my families favorite and I have been taken there since I was a little kid. Lena has pinched my cheek.

The sauce recipe was created by Lena herself and is now cooked by her son and grandson. It’s the epitome of a family restaurant and my folks know all the staff and normally most of the patrons. All this is wonderful, but the hook is the sauce. It’s a simple tomato sauce that must also contain crack. When I’m a away from home, I crave what you see in today’s pic: homade noodles with two meatballs, all covered in that heavenly gravy.

DineSite.com Lena’s Cafe Write-up
…

Site of the Day: Via Gothamist, the Times has a graphic of all the strip clubs in the city. Nice. Also, they have a shot of some guy with tongs.

BBQ Dan

Please check out today’s NY Times’ Sunday Styles section to see a shot of my brother Dan and his “baby”, his Weber grill. A fellow I did a reading with years ago, Allen Salkin, sent an email to a literary writer’s email list I’m on. He was looking for interviewees that owned top-end grills. I connected him and Dan, and bam, he’s in the Times.
I like my picture of him and his grill better.

Please check out today’s NY Times’ Sunday Styles section to see a shot of my brother Dan and his “baby”, his Weber grill. A fellow I did a reading with years ago, Allen Salkin, sent an email to a literary writer’s email list I’m on. He was looking for interviewees that owned top-end grills. I connected him and Dan, and bam, he’s in the Times.

I like my picture of him and his grill better.

Enter the Grotto

Hidden beneath the street, down on Forsyth where the LES bleeds into Chinatown, is a Grotto. This Italian restaurant is swankily done with dark wood paneling and brass portholes. Entrees run from $12-25 and the cheapest bottle of vino rosso is $36. I had the a veal special with mashed potatoes and asparagus. It was had a hint of lemon, lots of butter, and was perfect. There is nothing remarkable about the place, but I recommend it for taking visiting guests or a date night.

– City Search Review
– NY Metro Review
…

So Lost finished up last night. SPOILERS AHEAD. Here is what I wrote to Mike:

I was not as satisfied as I wanted to be (heard that before, ba-dum cha!). If all you had to do was turn a key to "save the world" and you had lots of free time, I bet you could construct a remote key turning mechanism.

This show pisses me off because rather than have a plot, it just straight up introduces artificial tension and release, ie need to push a button, push the button.

Also, why do they talk like they can't talk? Why didn't Desmond say, "Oh, by the way, your Dad stole all my letters."

Why did the Kurgen paint an invisible map? Why did Ecko blow himself up? Why did Emily DeRaven suddenly start re-liking a demented hobbit (and further more if I knew where she lived I would stalk her like mad)?

I think Penelope's father is running Dharma and used his crazy research project to ensnare Desmond. She found out and only knows that he is trapped near an electromagnetic experiment somewhere. So she used her money to hire two Russian scientists to try and locate her father's secret experiment, and thus save her lover.

I may have to quit this shit like cigarettes.

…

Sites of the Day:

– Via Deadspin, a wonderful Japanese instructional video explaining American Football. I'll admit, it is a confusing game.

– Via many sites, including Marty Z, a fun to click infinite zooming picture. I wish I could do this with all my Pics of the Day.

– And finally, (via Metafilter), feel good and sad at the same time, watch Mr. Rogers speak to Congress in 1969. Warning, this one may choke you up.

Hidden beneath the street, down on Forsyth where the LES bleeds into Chinatown, is a Grotto. This Italian restaurant is swankily done with dark wood paneling and brass portholes. Entrees run from $12-25 and the cheapest bottle of vino rosso is $36. I had the a veal special with mashed potatoes and asparagus. It was had a hint of lemon, lots of butter, and was perfect. There is nothing remarkable about the place, but I recommend it for taking visiting guests or a date night.

– City Search Review
– NY Metro Review
…

So Lost finished up last night. SPOILERS AHEAD. Here is what I wrote to Mike:

I was not as satisfied as I wanted to be (heard that before, ba-dum cha!). If all you had to do was turn a key to "save the world" and you had lots of free time, I bet you could construct a remote key turning mechanism.

This show pisses me off because rather than have a plot, it just straight up introduces artificial tension and release, ie need to push a button, push the button.

Also, why do they talk like they can't talk? Why didn't Desmond say, "Oh, by the way, your Dad stole all my letters."

Why did the Kurgen paint an invisible map? Why did Ecko blow himself up? Why did Emily DeRaven suddenly start re-liking a demented hobbit (and further more if I knew where she lived I would stalk her like mad)?

I think Penelope's father is running Dharma and used his crazy research project to ensnare Desmond. She found out and only knows that he is trapped near an electromagnetic experiment somewhere. So she used her money to hire two Russian scientists to try and locate her father's secret experiment, and thus save her lover.

I may have to quit this shit like cigarettes.

…

Sites of the Day:

– Via Deadspin, a wonderful Japanese instructional video explaining American Football. I'll admit, it is a confusing game.

– Via many sites, including Marty Z, a fun to click infinite zooming picture. I wish I could do this with all my Pics of the Day.

– And finally, (via Metafilter), feel good and sad at the same time, watch Mr. Rogers speak to Congress in 1969. Warning, this one may choke you up.

Billy Connolly – One Funny Scotsman

Last week, Ildi and I joined Mark, Andy, and James in seeing Billy Connolly at the Arts Theater on West 37th. You may remember Billy as Dr. Johnny Fever’s replacement on Head of the Class (which then spun off to the very short-lived Billy). He also has done a world of stuff on the BBC and is one of the UK’s biggest comedians.
He appeared on stage, took off his glasses (see pic), and then went on about a hundred different tears and delightful tangents, all in thick Scottish brogue. He brushed against cheesey once or twice, but all in all a very successful show.

My favorite line from the set:

(On smoking) “Young people the age of seven or so, are always coming up to me and saying, ‘Don’t you know that that could kill ya?’ I look down at them and reply, ‘Don’t you know that I could kill you?'”

He also did a great bit on how eating white bread vs. wheat only adds two weeks to your life. These weeks are at the end when you are pissing yourself and you friends have all happily gone two weeks ahead of you.

I recommend the show if you can get tickets, or setting the DVR if it makes HBO.

Links:
Billy Connolly Official Site
Get tickets at Ticketbastards.

Last week, Ildi and I joined Mark, Andy, and James in seeing Billy Connolly at the Arts Theater on West 37th. You may remember Billy as Dr. Johnny Fever’s replacement on Head of the Class (which then spun off to the very short-lived Billy). He also has done a world of stuff on the BBC and is one of the UK’s biggest comedians.

He appeared on stage, took off his glasses (see pic), and then went on about a hundred different tears and delightful tangents, all in thick Scottish brogue. He brushed against cheesey once or twice, but all in all a very successful show.

My favorite line from the set:

(On smoking) “Young people the age of seven or so, are always coming up to me and saying, ‘Don’t you know that that could kill ya?’ I look down at them and reply, ‘Don’t you know that I could kill you?'”

He also did a great bit on how eating white bread vs. wheat only adds two weeks to your life. These weeks are at the end when you are pissing yourself and you friends have all happily gone two weeks ahead of you.

I recommend the show if you can get tickets, or setting the DVR if it makes HBO.

Links:
Billy Connolly Official Site
Get tickets at Ticketbastards.

I hate advertising, but I like beer.

I hate advertising. But I really hate weak ass yuppy advertising. Have you seen the Passat commercials where they market the car as unpretentious? Some annoying couple sits at the stop light that has turned green behind another vehicle. The woman get impatient and beeps the horn from the passanger seat. An enormous man emerges from the stopped car in order to kick some ass. The man of the couple at this point sprains his vagina while trying to sink into his seat while his harpy girlfriend/wife contemplates divorce while locking the doors. The gorilla assumes it was the drive of an SUV sitting behind the VW and these annoying people slink away while some other poor soul is about to be pummeled for the self-centric beep. Remind me to key one of these vehicles the next time I see one in Brooklyn.
(On a side note, the music in the commercial is “Kissing Families” by the Silversun Pickups, which is my favortie song. Grrr.)

I hate advertising.

Or have you seen the Apple ads where the unshaven twenty-something representing a Mac berates a dorky suit representing a PC? They are Coke and Pepsi, people. Both shit-brown, sweet acid in a can. Don’t be a tool and support one or the other.

I hate advertising.

Have you seen the new Miller Lite Ads where Jerome Bettis and Burt Reynolds lead a panel of guys in establishing Man Laws (Like the fact that when you bring beer to a friends house, it now belongs to the firend. No take homes.) I like this commercial.

I hate advertising that is not targeted to me.

Site of the Day: More advertising, but this time fun: www.search4yaris.com. Kerstin’s design class at the Art Institute of New York (she’s the teacher, not a student) took on a huge and innovative project. They are coordinating a scavanger hunt on June 3 using the Internet, digital cameras, and cell phones. The purpose is ostensibly raise product awareness for the Toyota Yaris, but really I think it is just for fun. I plan to put together a team and whip those young’uns. More later.

I hate advertising. But I really hate weak ass yuppy advertising. Have you seen the Passat commercials where they market the car as unpretentious? Some annoying couple sits at the stop light that has turned green behind another vehicle. The woman get impatient and beeps the horn from the passanger seat. An enormous man emerges from the stopped car in order to kick some ass. The man of the couple at this point sprains his vagina while trying to sink into his seat while his harpy girlfriend/wife contemplates divorce while locking the doors. The gorilla assumes it was the drive of an SUV sitting behind the VW and these annoying people slink away while some other poor soul is about to be pummeled for the self-centric beep. Remind me to key one of these vehicles the next time I see one in Brooklyn.

(On a side note, the music in the commercial is “Kissing Families” by the Silversun Pickups, which is my favortie song. Grrr.)

I hate advertising.

Or have you seen the Apple ads where the unshaven twenty-something representing a Mac berates a dorky suit representing a PC? They are Coke and Pepsi, people. Both shit-brown, sweet acid in a can. Don’t be a tool and support one or the other.

I hate advertising.

Have you seen the new Miller Lite Ads where Jerome Bettis and Burt Reynolds lead a panel of guys in establishing Man Laws (Like the fact that when you bring beer to a friends house, it now belongs to the firend. No take homes.) I like this commercial.

I hate advertising that is not targeted to me.

Site of the Day: More advertising, but this time fun: www.search4yaris.com. Kerstin’s design class at the Art Institute of New York (she’s the teacher, not a student) took on a huge and innovative project. They are coordinating a scavanger hunt on June 3 using the Internet, digital cameras, and cell phones. The purpose is ostensibly raise product awareness for the Toyota Yaris, but really I think it is just for fun. I plan to put together a team and whip those young’uns. More later.

AZ/NV Vacation Part 3 – 100 (or more) Words on Las Vegas

100 Words on Las Vegas

Too much of everything. Too many. Too hot. Too much air conditioning. Too expensive. Too many poor people at the too many types of video poker. Too many fake boobs on the street. Too many casinos. Too many free drinks at the table and platefuls at the buffet. Way too many cigarettes. Too much time awake. Too many twelves against a face card. Too many ATM machines. Too many nights rolling dice shows in the corner of her eyes. Too many kids. Too close to the airport. Almost too much fun for more than two nights, or maybe, just right.

Just ask Moses, it’s nice to come in from out in the desert. After Matt and I hiked our heel-skin off, Vegas was just the prescription. Other than walking from the blackjack table to the bathroom once an hour, we found a way to remain stationary for many hours.

Of course we stayed at the Luxor, in the pyramid. Why on earth wouldn’t you? IT’S A FREAKIN’ PYRAMID. And I slept there. My razor sharpened itself.
The rooms were actually just like normal hotel rooms, but one wall was slanted. During the day, a rope was over the window, suspending the window washer below. Apparently, the clean full time, just starting over when they get to the end. It’s the same with painting the Brooklyn Bridge deck.
This picture is an attempt to show how big the pyramid is, and thus how big Vegas is. It’s huge. The casinos are enourmous, each containing air conditioned villages within them. I’m waving down to Matt from the 12th floor. The tallest building in Altoona has thirteen floors.
To match the size is the spectacle. The fountains at the Belagio erupt in time with cheesy music every fifteen minutes. They are amazing.
I promised a coworker that I wouldn’t just gamble and that I would see the fountains, so this second shot is due diligence.
Even though the new casinos to the south are more impressive, Matt and I prefer old Vegas. We spent the lion’s share of are time in the same two stools at Binion’s Horseshoe, home of the World Poker Championship. I prefer mahgony to movie sets when I’m flipping chips.
Fremont Street outside Binion’s fronts a bunch of old casinos. It’s also covered with a luminescent roof for hourly light shows.
Someone with this look on his face should not be allowed to gamble real money. But he is in Vegas.
When not gambling or seeing shows, the average jet-setter relaxes with a tube of pure, aromatice air at the oxygen bar. Hey, we would have just spend that dough at the craps table anyways. And if you are wondering, no, there is no effect from doing oxygen. Or I should say there is an effect, identical to breathing.
Between the pool and the tables, we found the Grand Canyon Experience, identical to the Grand Canyon, but with a Subway Sandwich shop. Sheesh, if I had only known!

It was a fantastic vacation. Thanks to Matt for once again being an excellent travel partner. Thanks to Ildi for letting me go. I had a pic of her, misty as I was l leaving for the airport, but as a true thank you I am not posting it.

100 Words on Las Vegas

Too much of everything. Too many. Too hot. Too much air conditioning. Too expensive. Too many poor people at the too many types of video poker. Too many fake boobs on the street. Too many casinos. Too many free drinks at the table and platefuls at the buffet. Way too many cigarettes. Too much time awake. Too many twelves against a face card. Too many ATM machines. Too many nights rolling dice shows in the corner of her eyes. Too many kids. Too close to the airport. Almost too much fun for more than two nights, or maybe, just right.

Just ask Moses, it’s nice to come in from out in the desert. After Matt and I hiked our heel-skin off, Vegas was just the prescription. Other than walking from the blackjack table to the bathroom once an hour, we found a way to remain stationary for many hours.

Of course we stayed at the Luxor, in the pyramid. Why on earth wouldn’t you? IT’S A FREAKIN’ PYRAMID. And I slept there. My razor sharpened itself.
The rooms were actually just like normal hotel rooms, but one wall was slanted. During the day, a rope was over the window, suspending the window washer below. Apparently, the clean full time, just starting over when they get to the end. It’s the same with painting the Brooklyn Bridge deck.
This picture is an attempt to show how big the pyramid is, and thus how big Vegas is. It’s huge. The casinos are enourmous, each containing air conditioned villages within them. I’m waving down to Matt from the 12th floor. The tallest building in Altoona has thirteen floors.
To match the size is the spectacle. The fountains at the Belagio erupt in time with cheesy music every fifteen minutes. They are amazing.
I promised a coworker that I wouldn’t just gamble and that I would see the fountains, so this second shot is due diligence.
Even though the new casinos to the south are more impressive, Matt and I prefer old Vegas. We spent the lion’s share of are time in the same two stools at Binion’s Horseshoe, home of the World Poker Championship. I prefer mahgony to movie sets when I’m flipping chips.
Fremont Street outside Binion’s fronts a bunch of old casinos. It’s also covered with a luminescent roof for hourly light shows.
Someone with this look on his face should not be allowed to gamble real money. But he is in Vegas.
When not gambling or seeing shows, the average jet-setter relaxes with a tube of pure, aromatice air at the oxygen bar. Hey, we would have just spend that dough at the craps table anyways. And if you are wondering, no, there is no effect from doing oxygen. Or I should say there is an effect, identical to breathing.
Between the pool and the tables, we found the Grand Canyon Experience, identical to the Grand Canyon, but with a Subway Sandwich shop. Sheesh, if I had only known!

It was a fantastic vacation. Thanks to Matt for once again being an excellent travel partner. Thanks to Ildi for letting me go. I had a pic of her, misty as I was l leaving for the airport, but as a true thank you I am not posting it.