Saturday, February 27, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
attractive DJ promo?
I need to make a DJ promo flyer. I need inspiration! The problem is that most flyers/promo I see are really kind of ugly and busy and ICK>
Im LOST. Where can i find good music design. Some research needs to be done,
more>
Im LOST. Where can i find good music design. Some research needs to be done,
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
delivery man with Thom Browne bag
Just saw a delivery man carrying a shopping bag with very expensive contents. I think he was from like Seamless web or something. I wonder who it's going to. What are the circumstances? "I need a humpday treat, I'll order a $5,000 suit," or "Coffee stain? No problem, I'll send another one over."
I can't even imagine buying something that expensive in a store; having it delivered by a man on foot during workday rush hour takes it to a whole new level.
My favorite part is that the delivery man was reading a magazine about weed AND taking notes on different varieties. The bag was just sitting on the ground. The BEAUTIFUL bag. It was pretttty.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
laundry on my lunch break
Its finally come to this. I'm doing laundry on my lunch break.I'm back home from bombing an anthropology test. I can't believe how little of the information I retained from the first three weeks of class, even though I was paying attention and taking copious notes.
If I can get through this semester, I know it'll be worth it. Between two senior project classes, web design class, liberal arts classes, preparing my portfolio, and interviewing for jobs, my spare time has been reduced to when I'm asleep. Add an on-campus job I have for the sole purpose of putting money into savings for after graduation, excruciating visits to the bed-stuy YMCA 4 night/week, grocery shopping at C-TOWN-Town-town, throwing together 3 meals a day (more like 1 meal stretched into 3) and whatever other bullshit surprises I have to deal with on a regular basis (i.e. texting my landlord at 3am begging for heat, picking up 20 pairs of shoes spread over 2 flights of stairs from a broken shoe rack, etc.) and I'm literally out of time. My best friend, Dan stopped by my job at the school computer lab yesterday to see if I'm alive, here's our paraphrased conversation:
"Wanna get dinner after work?"
"I can't spend money on anything, especially take-out."
"Well, we can make dinner then."
"I don't have time, I have to go the gym tonight."
"I liked you better before you were responsible."
"I think everyone did."
My mom doesn't even call me anymore. She knows better. I either ask for impossible advice or money.
I need to go build a flash website now. Oh, no, I don't know how to build a flash website. Maybe I'll be able to get it done in half an hour? I have be at work by 5... :)
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Wednesday, February 17, 2010
olympic ads, courtesy of:
This brand new flatscreen TV!
I mean it's about time.
This is Juan and the TV - my two new room mates - lucky me.
Now that I have a TV worth watching (the one it replaced was a 50-lb craiglist-mistake), I can watch all kinds of worthless crap on basic cable.
Ok so I'm not actually interested in the shows for the most part, but it's been a long time since I've had access to TV spots - which are mostly appalling but every once in a while something nice flicks by.
Especially tonight. The winter Olympics are on. Juan and I like to watch the figure skating - it's easy for both of us to contribute. He's still working on his english so ice-skating is a relief at the end of the day because we can just sit and drink Casa del Toro and throw out one-liners when the skaters fuck up. Tonight is men's long program. This year every man is beautiful. Gorgeous. I've never seen so many many physically blessed men in one place. I hear myself gasp almost every time one enters the rink. Juan reminds me that they're gay. "Nicole, look at this tranny!" I guess I'm not paying that much attention but I'm concerned because that thought hadn't occurred to me, even though the skater on screen is wearing a pink and purple sequin leotard. He looks good.
Between the sequined gays, a couple good commercials come on.
I like the new Audi spot even though the car's like.. i'm sorry.. really ugly. Call me old fashioned, but.. what is that black part on the side at the end? Yikes?
And then this little Sun Chips gem came on! I love it! I don't know if it's the song or the time lapse or the fact that the bag is BIODEGRADABLE, but I smiled.
But tonight AT&T's 3G spot took the cake because their timing is RIGHT ON: I've been obsessed with the song in this spot - Intro by The xx - for the last 48 hours. iTunes can't even keep up with my play count. When this ad came on, Intro was playing on my laptop already. I thought I was hullucinating. I like it when I hear a new album and I get to have it all to myself for a while but it's only been 2 days and the Olympics went ahead and blasted it front and center for the whole country. I guess I'm late to the party.
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Monday, February 15, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
my bedroom is 40 degrees
When I wake up this morning it’s too cold to get up. I know what will happen if I break the seal of the covers but I have to do it. I whip the covers off, scramble into the kitchen, open the oven and turn it up to 400 degrees. I go in the living room and turn on the space heater. I fill a kettle with water and turn it on to boil. I run back to bed.
I do this almost every morning. I don’t know why my Guyanese landlord doesn't turn on the heat past 3am, but this can't be legal. My first alarm clock of the day is my phone which wakes me up. My second alarm clock is the tea kettle. I turn on as many heat sources as possible including the stovetop, and then I get back in bed. Every day. By the time the kettle whistles and I get up to turn it off I'm able to stand in my room with full PJs and a polar fleece bathrobe because the oven has raised the room temperature to from 40 to 47. It's like getting up on the wrong side of the bed EVERY DAY.
After half an hour the two rooms are starting to feel habitable for human life, so I take two cupcakes to the living room for breakfast in front of the TV. I watch the clock as it approaches 1:45p.m. the time I need to leave for class. Under many warm blankets on the couch I envision my journey: suiting up in my toughest winter gear, shoving enormous skiing gloves over my hands, fully covering my head, strapping my heavy backpack with laptop onto my tired back, fumbling in the gloves that are too big for my hands to unlock my freezing bike, chaining the heavy frozen lock over my waist and enormous coat, and finally fighting freezing wind all the way to school. My iPhone tells me it’s 21 degrees out.
I make a decision I had promised myself I wouldn’t make this semester. I’m not sick or out of town and I’m skipping class anyways. The apartment is finally warm; It feels like a cocoon. How could I leave now when it’s just gotten warm enough to relax my shoulders and breathe normally? Class can wait until spring.
A few hours later I force myself out into the frozen concrete to go to work. At nine I get off and decide to go to the gym. Astonishingly, I’m able to run 3.3 miles and end up burning 400 calories. I feel proud. As I’m pushing through my last mile and acute dehydration, all I can think about is getting home, having a hot shower and sleeping like a baby for hours. What actually happens was different. After the shower I’m preparing to take out my contacts when Josh gets home from work and rushes in, “Ok we don’t have much time, but put your pants on – Rustik is having a karaoke contest!” Rustik is the bar next to our apartment. Josh is a fantastic singer. “No way.” I say, thinking of my plans with my bed. “The winner gets an iPod touch!” I reconsider. Watching Josh sing karaoke at 11p on a Wednesday night in a bar in the projects of Bed-Stuy might be too good to miss. If I don’t go, what’s the point of me living here at all? I might as well move back to the Virginia suburbs and pay cheap rent if I’m going to pass up magic like this. “Give me 5 minutes.” I mentally note that this will mean I get only 7 hours of sleep but it’s still the right decision. I’ve never heard Josh sing real karaoke, only belt stuff out around the apartment so I’m excited for this.
When we arrive at the bar seven minutes later, there’s a woman singing a soulful song I hope will end soon. She has an amazing voice but the song is uncomfortably sad and she’s really too loud. Josh asks the co-host if she has room for one more singer. She has the most amazing ass I’ve ever seen. I literally am amazed. I mean this thing is noteworthy. It’s straight up – the biggest booty I’ve ever seen on a woman – black, white, Puerto-Rican, whatever, it’s like half of her body mass. Anyways Bootylicious gives us a sideways look and says she’ll try to fit him in. We’re the only white people in the bar, as usual, but tonight the crowd seems easygoing. We endure another monotonous song by a man with a pretty good voice but the song is just way too long and he seems to get bored in the middle of it. When he finishes, Bootylicious takes a popular applause vote to determine the finalist who will be invited back on Feb. 25th to compete in the final contest for the iPod. The woman with the loud voice wins. I wonder if Josh is disappointed. If he is, he doesn’t show it – a true performer. “Now that the finalist’s have been chosen, let’s resume karaoke night.”
I’m confused by this and wonder why anyone would sing if not to win an iPod touch. Apparently Josh would! She calls him up and his song’s instrumentals start up. A song I haven’t heard since high school begins. Josh belts out the first line and I’m sold. He’s really good. Heads whip around, mouths open and gape at the tiny white boy in purple-striped cashmere singing the shit out of “Back at One” by Brian McKnight. If you close your eyes, you would think the voice is coming from a sassy, three-hundred pound black woman. All of a sudden people erupt with applause and cheers. Even I get loud. People at the bar turn to Juan and I and give us a look that says, “Are you with him?” I smile really big in return. Yes. I’m with him. And I’m really proud.
He gets applause louder than any of the previous contestants when he finishes, and BootyBooty invites him back on the 25th as a finalist. I can’t wait.
(To be continued.)
more>
I do this almost every morning. I don’t know why my Guyanese landlord doesn't turn on the heat past 3am, but this can't be legal. My first alarm clock of the day is my phone which wakes me up. My second alarm clock is the tea kettle. I turn on as many heat sources as possible including the stovetop, and then I get back in bed. Every day. By the time the kettle whistles and I get up to turn it off I'm able to stand in my room with full PJs and a polar fleece bathrobe because the oven has raised the room temperature to from 40 to 47. It's like getting up on the wrong side of the bed EVERY DAY.
After half an hour the two rooms are starting to feel habitable for human life, so I take two cupcakes to the living room for breakfast in front of the TV. I watch the clock as it approaches 1:45p.m. the time I need to leave for class. Under many warm blankets on the couch I envision my journey: suiting up in my toughest winter gear, shoving enormous skiing gloves over my hands, fully covering my head, strapping my heavy backpack with laptop onto my tired back, fumbling in the gloves that are too big for my hands to unlock my freezing bike, chaining the heavy frozen lock over my waist and enormous coat, and finally fighting freezing wind all the way to school. My iPhone tells me it’s 21 degrees out.
I make a decision I had promised myself I wouldn’t make this semester. I’m not sick or out of town and I’m skipping class anyways. The apartment is finally warm; It feels like a cocoon. How could I leave now when it’s just gotten warm enough to relax my shoulders and breathe normally? Class can wait until spring.
A few hours later I force myself out into the frozen concrete to go to work. At nine I get off and decide to go to the gym. Astonishingly, I’m able to run 3.3 miles and end up burning 400 calories. I feel proud. As I’m pushing through my last mile and acute dehydration, all I can think about is getting home, having a hot shower and sleeping like a baby for hours. What actually happens was different. After the shower I’m preparing to take out my contacts when Josh gets home from work and rushes in, “Ok we don’t have much time, but put your pants on – Rustik is having a karaoke contest!” Rustik is the bar next to our apartment. Josh is a fantastic singer. “No way.” I say, thinking of my plans with my bed. “The winner gets an iPod touch!” I reconsider. Watching Josh sing karaoke at 11p on a Wednesday night in a bar in the projects of Bed-Stuy might be too good to miss. If I don’t go, what’s the point of me living here at all? I might as well move back to the Virginia suburbs and pay cheap rent if I’m going to pass up magic like this. “Give me 5 minutes.” I mentally note that this will mean I get only 7 hours of sleep but it’s still the right decision. I’ve never heard Josh sing real karaoke, only belt stuff out around the apartment so I’m excited for this.
When we arrive at the bar seven minutes later, there’s a woman singing a soulful song I hope will end soon. She has an amazing voice but the song is uncomfortably sad and she’s really too loud. Josh asks the co-host if she has room for one more singer. She has the most amazing ass I’ve ever seen. I literally am amazed. I mean this thing is noteworthy. It’s straight up – the biggest booty I’ve ever seen on a woman – black, white, Puerto-Rican, whatever, it’s like half of her body mass. Anyways Bootylicious gives us a sideways look and says she’ll try to fit him in. We’re the only white people in the bar, as usual, but tonight the crowd seems easygoing. We endure another monotonous song by a man with a pretty good voice but the song is just way too long and he seems to get bored in the middle of it. When he finishes, Bootylicious takes a popular applause vote to determine the finalist who will be invited back on Feb. 25th to compete in the final contest for the iPod. The woman with the loud voice wins. I wonder if Josh is disappointed. If he is, he doesn’t show it – a true performer. “Now that the finalist’s have been chosen, let’s resume karaoke night.”
I’m confused by this and wonder why anyone would sing if not to win an iPod touch. Apparently Josh would! She calls him up and his song’s instrumentals start up. A song I haven’t heard since high school begins. Josh belts out the first line and I’m sold. He’s really good. Heads whip around, mouths open and gape at the tiny white boy in purple-striped cashmere singing the shit out of “Back at One” by Brian McKnight. If you close your eyes, you would think the voice is coming from a sassy, three-hundred pound black woman. All of a sudden people erupt with applause and cheers. Even I get loud. People at the bar turn to Juan and I and give us a look that says, “Are you with him?” I smile really big in return. Yes. I’m with him. And I’m really proud.
He gets applause louder than any of the previous contestants when he finishes, and BootyBooty invites him back on the 25th as a finalist. I can’t wait.
(To be continued.)
more>
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