Yesterday was quite the delightful NYC outing. It consisted of a teetotaler mistakenly ordering raspberry flavored brandy, giant cockroaches crawling under tables and causing slight havoc, and an enlightening discussion about the dreaded "friend zone" where I confessed to having had a slight crush on my best friend when we were in our freshman year of college. (He would eventually come out to me 6 years later)
I met up with Pilarita for some art appreciation...the "Heavy Light" Japanese photo exhibit to be exact. It's always fun to admire the work artists, but it's more enjoyable with great company. There were some extremely disorienting pieces by Asako Narahshi. She apparently floats in the water taking these pictures as if we were the midst of a natural disaster. I give it two enthusiastic thumbs up.
Dinner in the meat-packing district was exciting to say the least. We waited an hour and a half for a table, meanwhile we bar-hopped and people watched. This trendy area attracted all sorts of "cucarachas". We had the high-heeled variety, that no matter how rocky the terrain, they managed to strut their stuff in 4-5 inch heels. We had the wall-street variety, always dressed in perfectly pressed shirts and pinstripe suits. And then we had the crawling at your feet variety...which isn't so appealing when you're eating dinner. This incited a rather humorous, yet enlightening conversation on how to torture cockroaches that "invade" your space. Among the torture methods mentioned, the newspaper mallet and the peg and light seemed to be the most efficient. I have a sneaking suspicion that these are common methods used by the CIA...
And the night wouldn't be complete, without my menu faux-pas. Reading the carte de boissons, I thought that they were offereing raspberry flavored mineral water after I read "eaux de vie". I found it odd that the waitress asked me if I wanted it "on the rocks" in French, and I agreed that I wanted my "eaux de vie" on the rocks. Much to my chagrin, the waitress brought back a cup of raspberry flavored brandy, which JP painfully drank throughout the meal. I think I need to brush up on my French. Or at least my knowledge of bistro offerings.
in this laborious process of ensuring that i'm not a criminal, i had to take a day trip down to trenton to acquire an apostille for the background check. now, according to the hague convention of 1961(?) this is a super fancy verification of the legality of the documents presented...kind of cool right? i get this official looking piece of paper with all this stuff printed on it and i walk away feeling pretty damn important. however, i didn't feel that special when i had to fork over $60 to the crazy state clerk. man, i think i need to become a notary public and make my fortune there.
