Never quit smorking

When visiting Japan several years back, I bought a shirt with text that three times said, "Never quit smorking". Its funny because Japanese people spell about as well as I do. Also, unlike in America, smoking is socially accepted in Japan.



Just in case you didn't know, Houston has a vibrant culture. There is a rich mixture of street art and gang territorial tagging. After a boy was stabbed to death in the park on her street, my mother decided that she no longer enjoying the spray can murals and wanted all graffiti gone. Well, somebody needs to get Rudy Gulliani on the phone cause it hasn't gone anywhere.

At the underpass of Shepard at Highway 59 someone, I supposed used a stencil to paint an image of a razor and the words Give and Up. Its sort of a crappy message; its sort of a clean image. But whoever went to the trouble of vandalizing TexDOT property should keep in mind that if you put up something positive, people are less likely to gun for you arrest.



The good news is that a resourceful vigilante came along with a sense of humor and spray painted a stenciled image of a smoking rabbit on top of the razor blade. They're sort of famous, the smokers, you might have seen them around. And the unknown individual most deftly mimicked the font to add the word "Never". So in the place of a razor blade and a suicidal command is an adult cartoon and a command that, to Americans, at least, is only slightly less suicidal.

Which brings me to the cover of The L Magazine this month: Smoke More Eat Less .

We Americans come down so hard on smoking and smokers while we eat ourselves to death.

A few weeks ago the team that was kicked off "The Biggest Looser" included a smoker. They showed multiple shots of this man sitting down and smoking to convey what a lazy fatass he was and how he wasn't committed to loosing weight. It just seems to me that if you are asking people who weight over 300 lbs. to eat less, maybe you should let them smoke. No one is telling heroin addicts to put away the ciggs. My roommate said something about smoking and lung capacity, which might be valid for a show capitalizes on rapid weight loss. But as the Food section mentioned last week, those contestants' real problem was food.

Oh I can't stay mad at you, BC

Yes, a while back I was a bit critical of Bill Cunningham for his take on the recession, but you've got to know how much I love him. This week's audio slide show if from Inauguration and it is wonderful. This man spends most of his time wandering around the UES or, for a few week a year, Paris. But look at him here, without a ticket, wandering the streets of D.C. with the people. What really did it for me is when his voice cracks and perhaps he starts to cry.

Soon it will be back to business but right now we just can't stop crying.

There's only one thing that gauche about Obama, and I LOVE It.

Yes, at this point commenting on Barack Obama's hottness is like asking: "Is it cold enough for ya?" It can fill the empty air between two people who have nothing to say to one another.

But that wasn't the case about a year ago. When my roommate (who at the time was not an Obamaphile) came home all breathless over this photo, I was still unconvinced. She asked me if I had seen the photo with him in the Stetson, "he was smokin' hot!" True, this photo shoot may have been the tipping point in the campaign. It is quite universally appealing, or maybe just universally appealing to the Texans.

But, when this photo was printed last February I was unconvinced. He kind of reminded me of Toofer from 30 Rock, kinda skinny, kinda Harvard educated. I just wasn't sure.

Well, those days are long over! Most Democrats, and around now most Americans, can agree that they love all the writing Obama has been doing lately. Closing secret prisons and detention camps. Yeah, you sign away. We love it! Reverse key Bush secrecy policies. Yeah, that's why you got elected! Whose gonna get that pen? I call dibs! Freezing top salaries. Wow, you really are committed! (Maybe his staff wasn't quite so excited about that one)

But, really I just love to watch him write. I love it. love. it. His hand sort of curls around the pen making the round arm that so many lefties use. The way he leans into the pen. How he pushes his arm across the page like he's digging a mini-ditch or doing needle point. I just can't get enough.

About ten percent of the population is left handed, but according to Wikipedia "As of 2009, three or four (counting Reagan) out of the last five presidents have been left-handed. Counting as far back as Truman, the number is five (or six) out of twelve". When I saw Barack scrawling notes during the debates with Hillary I knew that he would be president.

Look at him smiling. She is talking and he is thinking: "I don't even have to say anything, I can just keep on pushing this pen backwards to let everyone see just how left handed I am." He spent much of the time she was speaking writing. She spent much of the time he was speaking making ugly faces. So you see, it was what is known as a tactic. And you know who it worked on: me.

(FYI: He is also the tallest of the candidates and has the most lineage connecting him to the American Revolution and the founding fathers. Both of these trivia bits correlate with being elected Presidents.)

Look at that Southpaw (yeah, that's what lefties are called in baseball) sign that ball. Look at his hand. He doesn't even hold that marker right.

The bumper sticker says "Lefties do it better" which is unverified as of yet, but lefties definitely do it different. I don't know what goes on in those crazy switched up brains of theirs, but I think that all that adapting may give them some special practice at the twists in life. As well as becoming president disproportionately, lefties who go to college are richer and more successful than their right handed counterparts. Even more important, the are disproportionally my best friends.

So all you lefties reading, I guess you now know why we make such a great team. It seems I'm a righty with a lefty's soul, or maybe I'm just a leftyphile. Oh, yeah. Look at that man, I know I'm a leftyphile. Look at that! Go find some video and watch him sign away. You won't be disappointed. Not at all.

A Perfect New York Day

Over night a fluffy blanket of snow covered my window sill and the yard beyond. As I ate a warm bowl of PB and J oatmeal (Yes, do it. Do it now. It is the most delish dish you have never tasted) the squirrels in the backyard scampered, disturbing the snow and sending sheets of white flying through the air and off the branches and telephone wires.

The B63 took me to Trader Joes where I purchased great quantities of fruit for now and snacks for later. Totally Yum.

In the afternoon it started to snow again, big heavy wet flakes. The Upper East Side looked just Madeline majestic when I met friends at the Met. Even though several parts of the museum were closed, we enjoyed wandering and viewing The American Wing, Modern Art, the Armory with all the armor for small people (I guess there were less hormones in the milk back then), and several exhibits along the way. A little boy totally Bogarted the water fountain until his mother informed him that there was a line (me). Also, a woman with more than three accessories of leopard print and a stretched face and too much lipstick sat next to and ignored a fat man with a comb over. He sure had a lot to say to her.

Then, the best part of all, Central Park in the snow. We walked to a hill covered in children and sleds. Although we did not proposition any small children for a sled rental, the youthful enthusiasm was contagious and we had a snow ball fight. So much fun! I love Central Park and I love snow. It was the best snow I have every seen in New York. And then, Erin walked on water. Well, maybe just the thin layer of ice left in the drained pond. But impressive none the less.

A veggie burger in a cafe on Lex and a stop at Bloomingdales to frequent the ladies room crowned one fabulous day.

2009: The Best Year Yet!

Every year we make resolutions and usually they are the same plans and promises that failed to come to fruition last year. Instead of making myself an ad for Dr. Phil or Jenny Craig, I am going to take some time to list some gratitudes for the past few months.

Barton Springs and the Polar Bears
No, not the Sarah Palin kind, the keepin' it wierd kind. I spend January 1, 2009 swimming in Barton's warm(er) waters. Since the springs runs the same temperature year round, the summer's frigid water is warmer than the air in winter and a great place to feel alive (when you can feel your feet). It was fantastic. There were old men in banana hammocks and old ladies in wet suits. A woman swam by me showing off a beautiful butterfly stroke. After reading her cap, I think she might have been an olympian. I have swam in Barton in the winter, and it is usually a solitary experience. This pool was as full as it is in the beginning of June and everyone was happy. There was an old lady handing out mudslides, and many people brought food and coffee to share. Yum. What a great way to start the year!

America going Blue
Yes, Shirley, this one goes out to you. I may have let you down on Thanksgiving with my not-saying-anything when you tried to start the traditional go around the table, but I'm trying to make up for it now. No longer do I equate Obama with the second coming, but boy am I glad America didn't go the other way. Unlike many, I didn't vote for my hope but against my fears. I was compelled to campaign in Philly when America responded to Sarah Palin so favorably. After all the Bush years of feeling marginalized for reading and thinking and being able to point to Africa on a map, I feel such a sense of relief.

Lyrica
This pfizer med blocks pain signals in my brain and it has changed my life. Sure, it comes with a little weight gain, but I would rather be running around a little chubby than not laying in the dark crying. So, thank goodness for pharmaceutical progress. Lyrica, I love you so much, you make it hard for me to hate big Pharm.

The Best Party Yet
Since I was a Junior in high school we have been having a party in the winter and inviting the same roster of people plus a few extras every year. This Christmas it became obvious that we had been having the same party for over a decade. The good news: it just keeps getting better. A few liters of whiskey and an Ipod with T.I.'s "Whatever you like" was all it took to go 'til 4 am. Even better, most of the partiers made it till morning to puke. Yey, whiskey! Yey, adult apartments! Yeay, friends who can boogie all night!

My Brooklyn (Sized) Apartment
Yes, my bedroom is smaller than your closet. Yes, at Thanksgiving my guests decided that there job was to show off its diminutive nature for best dramatic effect. Everyone laughed. Wait, the bed is the whole room! But I really love it. I love that the walls hug me in at night. I love that the proportions force me to unpack when I get back from a trip and to keep things neat in general. I put things in their place because that it the only space for them. In the mornings, I make my bed, and Ta Da! the room is clean. Small is the new Big.

I have many, many more things to celebrate and embrace and appreciate in my pampered, privileged life. My great friends, my family, all the benefits of being me. These are just a few I have been thinking of lately.

On the reporting power of hemlines

When I checked in on the news in the nyt today, as with most days since November 6th or so, I found a pretty sour picture of the world. The dire need for the proposed stimulus package, high, high, high unemployment rates, can the stimulus package be enough? And that's not even getting to Israel. It all sucks. So what did I do? What I have done for most of the Bush presidency, I dove for cover into the style pages.

I clicked on Bill Cunningham's always wonderful video On The Street. A small laughed escaped my lips as I thought how nice it is to just be superficial and enjoy candid shots of women on the street without thinking about the future of America. I just love the theme music. What will it be this week? Women with animal prints? Christmas sweaters? Winter boots? Heels in the winter? There are so many women in New York and so many of them dress crazy so there is not dearth of support for any crazy theme Bill might pick. What fun!

Well, I was duped!

This weeks theme was fashion in the face of "the total collapse of the world financial markets". Because, purportedly, hemlines, and fashion in general, have been a great signifier of financial times. Hemlines went down in the 1930s. What will they do now? "Its a fabulus time to be alive and to watch this unfold in our time." Really, Bill, I'm not sure we should be so delighted just yet. I'm not sure anyone wants to celebrate the bobo fashion of the breadline.