We've Moved (again!)

For our final week or so in New York Alex & I are house/cat-sitting for Rob & Marie (she's french - cool!). They are family/friends of Adams. Their home is the basement of an apartment block in Park Slope.

It is our first morning here & boy did Alex tell me off when I said "the cat was scratching at the door so I let it out." Opps. I jumped a few fences trying to retrieve said cat. He told me to stop chasing it & I got a big lecture on how they are not toys, running along the lines of a sarcastic: "now come & play, now sit on the bed, now do what I want you to, oh, it's run away". Mean old Alex, as if I didn't feel bad enough.

So Alex went off to work but I have chosen to stay in the hope that 'Broomy' returns. We will meet up later.

* time passes *

Sweet wee black puddy hath returned. Yayy. Just walked on in large as life. Still not fond of me yet, but it will come around.

Happy new year to all,
(now out of the dog's-box),
Rach.

Cameras, Sex, and Videogames

Today we went back to B&H photographic store to buy some more toys - and they do have a lot of those... The store is massive, and always extremely busy, and its hundreds of staff run it with military precision. Did I spend money?

Don't ask.


Rachel loved the conveyor belt system - snaking all around the store is a massively long system of conveyor belts that ferry your requested items from the basement straight to the counter you're being served at. It's needed of course - they stock tens of thousands of different items. Want to get a closer look at that underwater housing for that particular digital camera? The bloke at the counter presses a few buttons and a minute later Hey Presto! it arrives at his feet, courtesy of the magic pixies in the basement (probably Mexicans in reality).


After that we trundled off to the Museum of Sex. I learned lots and lots. It was quite unlike the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Whereas the Met was a unpleasant experience in rude crowds, here everyone was quiet and respectful. The patrons paid a great deal of attention to the exhibits. Rachel especially. No, she wasn't an exhibit, she was enthralled by the display of Victorian mechanical devices. None of which anyone of either gender would want anywhere near their 'naughty' bits.


After dinner we went out to a 'geek bar' in Brooklyn called 'Barcade'. It's built in an old garage and has a great atmosphere and, of course, arcade games from the seventies and eighties. We couldn't resist. We got ourselves a couple of extremely dark ales and a bunch of quarters and played ancient console games.
















All good things must come to an end...

Metropolitan Museum of Art

   Yesterday we finally went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It houses many of the worlds finest works of art, and people flock to visit - in bloody droves. Hordes of yabbering philistines turned what would otherwise be a place of quiet awe and reflection into a king size MacDonalds - a Big Mac with a side of masterpieces was the order of the day. Not that there were literally people scarfing down cheeseburgers while gazing upon a Matisse or an ancient Greek sculpture, but the feeling was similar. Most of the crowd there didn't really seem keen to actually enjoy any of artworks on display, but were content to just mill about, talking loudly to one another in the obnoxious way of mainstream America. But it has to be said that it was obvious that dozens of the people were only there under duress, having been forced to go by relatives, friends, or teachers. Poor buggers.

   But my bitching does not stop there! Even if we went on a 'quiet' day (this is holiday season after all) the museum is huge. Within its maze-like catacombs are housed thousands of artworks, and would truly require visit after visit to properly appreciate, as well as figure out how to navigate the bloody place. Really, smaller is better.


Rachel takes in Van Gogh's 'Bearded Irises'









Alex appreciates Picasso's 'Naked Chick' (I don't think that's its real title)

Our new home

As I write this Alex is crashed out, snoring, in the new nest I made us last night in a corner of the loft where Adam stashes some of his work gear.

It's very cosy, and now we are not in anyones way. It's amazing what you can do with crates, cases & fabric.



Yes, that is Alex buried in the bag.

Awwww.

Boxing Day Madness

I dragged Alex out for a round of the shops on Boxing day. Not that I wanted to buy anything - just feel the sweeping madness of Times Square on a busy day.

This is the "Toys'Я'Us" (yes, the backwards 'R' annoys me as well) flagship store. Four levels of toys with a massive ferris wheel in an atrium.

Cool robotic T-Rex that was pretty damn convincing - in a rubbery, jerky way.

Buy! Buy! Buy!












This Barbie Learns to Cook Doll was a jem.

Her thought bubble says:
 "Ken loves my famous casserole"



I very nearly bought it.

Nearly.





Bang in the centre of Times Square, jutting out of the ground like a portal to another dimension, is this U.S. Armed forces recruiting centre.

I laugh whenever I see it...then I remember it is deadly serious - not an ironic art installation.









OK, so Alex captured a falcon on film. Well I was lucky enough to find one of these growing wild.

Not sure if it is truly wild or just gone feral.


Hope you all had a lovely Xmas & Boxing day,
Love Rach

Christmas Morning

Christmas morning - we open our present - an Aid package from NZ filled with marmite, weetbix, and other antipodean delicacies! Yay!

My favourite present was one that needs no unwrapping - Rach!











As a Christmas treat we fed some of the local tree monkeys, err, squirrels. At one place the resident squirrel was a bit reluctant to come out in the open. We didn't quite know why (shyness?) until a red-tailed hawk swooped at him.
Result: Tree Monkeys: 1, Red-tailed Hawk: nil.



The hawk did manage to get a tasty bird so in the end everyone was a winner.

New York Christmas Tree

All of a sudden it's Christmas Eve and we still don't have a Christmas Tree - but we do have a huge box overflowing with Xmas Lights and some kiwi ingenuity. Add a bit of mucking about with a big ladder, a carabiner, and a roll of gaffer tape and voila!





























And here we are with our lovely Xmas Tree and our solitary present...

Rachel was a happy pup indeed.

Christmas Eve cruise

It is pretty cold here on Christmas Eve, but that didn't stop Alex & I enjoying a open air drive with Adam in "Rosalita", his Ford Galaxie.

Yes, that's with an 'ie'.

Question for Dad: What does it probably mean when the transmission goes 'clunk' before engaging...?


We wanted to see an area that is known for it's over-the-top christmas decoration - so what better way to check it out than in a convertible.

I felt pretty cool - People kept tooting and waving at us.

Me so famous!


"Would you like some tree with your lights?"

This one had a sign outside of a professional decorations person. That's a real job here.

Why would you want to pay someone else to do the really fun things at xmas?

The Slipper Room

Last night we put on our glad-rags and went out.

First stop dinner at a Columbian restaurant that some chicks in the local baby shop had recommended. (Yes, buying more presents for the Froglodyte, my cute wee nephew)

Alex called his spicy catfish dish the best meal he has had in New York. This isn't necessarily saying alot (refined taste not being the Americans strongest suit), but it was very nice. I ordered badly & suffered massive menu envy.


After dinner, we headed into Manhattan, the Lower East Side, to a club called the Slipper Room to enjoy their $5 burlesque show.

Doors opened at 8pm & we were told to get there early. So at 8.30 we rock up...to an empty club.

We did get a fantastic table right up the front, which we enjoyed for the 3 1/2 hours until the show started at midnight. Opps.

A troupe called the Hot Box did a fantastic show. Witty, sexy & very low-brow. ie: A go-go dancer had trouble re-attaching a hook mid dance, so she stopped, brought the fastener right up to her face to see it more clearly and, stopping every few seconds to swing a lackluster arm in the air, fastened it properly.

One of the turns was a Mistress B. She had amazon proportions and a compressed air nozzle tipping off the right breast of her costume enabling her to give biology lessons with balloon creations.

Mistress B finished her act by dragging our Alex on stage to model her creation.

For those of you who have guessed what this is, you can imagine my hysterics when, upon entering a pizzeria down the road after the show, someone called out to Alex:

    "Hey, you're the ____ guy!"

Gorgeous!!

It's the Bumper Badger!!

Are you worried your bumper might look bad if someone runs into you?
Are you embarrassed about the small chips on your bumper?

Introducing the Bumper Badger.

It will make concern over little dings a thing of the past
by Guaranteeing (yes, GUARANTEEING)
that your bumper look hideous for a completely different reason.

RUSH to the stores
to get your own peice of rubber crap to hang of the back of your car
so you too can look like you have something falling out of your boot.

Good grief.

Love Rach.

Prospect Park

I left Alex at home & went for a wander down to Prospect Park to see if I could disrupt the ecosystem. ie: feed the wildlife.

I bought some hazelnuts in their shells as I heard that it's good to feed them food which they can store.

They were very keen to take hazelnuts from me - once they realised I had food that is. I tried rubbing them together, jangling the hazelnuts in my hand, calling 'here squirelly squirelly'. Ignored. What worked? Rustling the plastic bag. How tragic.

Only this one would eat out of my hand.

This one (with the fat face) was very shy & would just peep from behind the tree then duck out of sight. Cuuute!!

I met some lovely Canadadians while I was freezing my bum off feeding the fluffies too.

Rach. (a.k.a. the Eco-Terrorist)

Public Enemy - Irving Plaza

This is the real reason Rachel was feeling ill today...

Last night we went out to Irving Plaza to see Public Enemy (old-school rap group) perform.
Fantastic stuff. Irving plaza is a wonderful venue, like a big old ballroom with big chandeliers hanging from the roof. We got in early and managed to get a prime spot on the balcony.

20 Dec - Sick

I am sick* with the flu so Alex has gone to work today alone, leaving me at home with copious amounts of orange juice & strict instructions of bed rest.

* Picture may be slight over-dramatisation.



Meanwhile, I have found a solution to Alex's cat alergy: I call it plasticat.

Sniff sniff,
Love Rach

Dec 17 - Tourists in Manhatten

Yesterday we bought ourselves a day Metro Pass & did lots of touristy things in Manhattan. It was a really fun, albeit freezing, day....

This is Alex & I on the Staten Island ferry. We made the pointless yet scenic trip to Staten Island and back. By pure luck we ended up doing it at the best possible time, dusk out, twilight home. Very pretty.





It was bloody cold out on the water (anywhere in Manhattan actually), the wind cuts right to the bone. I used think big furry hats & dogs in coats were silly - now I understand.


Look, Lady Liberty is picking Alex's nose!!







Terrorists!








Alex being Alex, with his new toy.







This woman I met on the ferry seems to have tripped & accidentally got her head stuck up a polar bears bottom.

Ouch.







This is Wall St (obviously, I suppose). I thought that it was funny that they are so rich there they get to have two street signs. OK, a day later that's maybe not quite as funny. I was quite cold at the time.

It is mostly blocked off to traffic now, with big mechanical roadblocks etc now. I can understand they lost many friends in Sept 11, but like the search we get every time we take the truck through the tunnel, I don't think this will stop a determined nutter.


Also, Wall street is the home of the NY stock exchange - and a purdy display of 'holiday' (they don't say Christmas here, it's 'holiday') inspired patriotisim.

My banana and me salute them.







We ended our day by spending even more money at my favourite NY store - Trash & Vaudeville.

Two stores in one (or one store in two...) downstairs is 'Trash' - very English inspired punk gear & upstairs is 'Vaudeville' - glamGoth gear, lots of velvet, spikes & PVC.

Alex, Adam & I already own utili-kilts from here (which I live in). Today Alex purchased a fab pair of cherry Doc's and I bought a groovy skirt. We actually only went in to get me trousers, however...


Any way, lovely day was had & many piccys taken. I will leave it to Alex to wow you with images taken today that are actually in focus & straight.

Best wishes to all,
Rach.

16th December - Manhattan

Manhattan 5am, after work. It started snowing then warmed up enough to rain/sleet and turn the snow into mush. Rachel was thoroughly enjoying herself.

Alex & Go-go dancers!

Last night (& late into this morning), Alex & I had our first go at running the lights for the new club.
I was quite nervous, especially as the music they play is 'house' and I am not familiar with any if it, so a lot of my matching was educated guesswork.

It is fun watching a 'service' club do it's very exclusive business.

A (fake) party atmosphere is created with burlesque style Go-go dancers shimmying & beautiful people paid to dance all night.

I'm not sure the punters get their money's worth, but they certainly see some return for the massive mark-up they pay on their booze.

Tonight it is just Alex & I running it, as Adam is taking the evening off after 3 full days of it.

PS: A blizzard is due tomorrow, Oooo!

Rachel Longstockings

My little wee sweetie looking cute as ever...

Nightclub - opening night

   The nightclub we've been working on finally opened its doors last night. We've been working hard, although usually starting at 'gentlemans' hours and working late.

   Once again large amounts of our time have been spent in consultation with the outfit that installed the LED lighting systems all around the club. They're in charge of 500+ tiny light fixtures, scattered all around the club, all of which are independently controlled via our computer systems. The problem being that the wiring is rather muddled and the wrong lights are turning on (or not), or showing the wrong colour, or not working independently, or flickering, etc, etc. The techs attempting to fix the problem would tell us everything was working fine. We'd test it. Chaos. They'd scratch their heads and work on it for a few hours, after which they would tell us that the problems were all fixed. We'd test it again and find that nothing had changed! Arrghh! We managed to get two thirds of the LED systems working acceptably, but had to disable the rest of them for the night.

This is the club about 3 1/2 hrs before opening. I'm on the ladder, polishing a freshly installed mirrorball.










Rach in the control booth, about an hour before opening.








An ice-sculpture on the bar, with the ice-sculpure installer-guy (I don't know the official name of his profession).







The almost-ready dance floor.










   About an hour before opening a remarkable transformation took place. The messy, unfinished club changed dramatically. Mexicans scrambled around furiously, cleaning, applying last minute coats of paint (warning to punters - watch what you lean on) and then, like magic, all the labourers, electricians, steel workers, and such disappeared. To be replaced by, among other people, a bevvy of gorgeous, impossibly thin hostesses wearing bum-skimming, cleavage-showing, ultra-tight black spandex minidresses. These girls were the 'table service' ladies, who attended to the high flyers that shelled out mucho mucho dollero for a table to sit at and a pretty girl to mix drinks. There were lumbering XXXL-sized security giants in black suits, ready and capable of tearing limbs off unruly patrons. And suave, impeccably dressed gentlemen (think James Bond) who would effortlessly help your every need, with dashing good looks and a charisma to be envied, as long as you were willing to shell over the dosh. Plus there was the good-looking-but-not-gorgeous bar staff who served the plebs rich enough to get in, but too poor to afford to sit down. And, of course, the obligatory mexican busboys who worked harder than everyone else.

   And us, near the bottom of the food chain.

Suckers, I mean punters, lining up outside.
















   Was it a success? Yep. People queued up outside in the cold, wearing their finery, hoping to be allowed in. Not everyone can get in of course. The club must retain an element of exclusivity, snob value, if you will. To be able to have your chauffeur drive you up in your Rolls, and step straight into a place like this is a worthy status symbol indeed.

   It's all bollocks, of course. It's just a big room! Those 'fancy' people staffing the place wouldn't give you the time of day if it weren't for all the money they're milking out of you. But the clientele of this place are the cream of New York.

   And good cream is always rich and thick.