YES WE CAN.

This was our neighborhood last night at 1am. White people. Black people. Old people. Young people. All of them erupting onto the streets in celebration of the choice we had made. The choice our country made. 

 I am so very proud. 

photo credit: www.eyemaze.net

Put on a Happy Face!

(insert excuse here for why no one has blogged)

Hiya.

Two things.

1- Last night I had grilled pizza and French 75s in Morningside Heights with my beloved Crussell. Before we had dinner, I was waiting for her outside of the restaurant on 112th st. All of the sudden all of these people start taking pictures. No celebrities were in sight. I was confused. I thought perhaps they were photographing St. John the Divine (which is lovely and also allows elephants inside) but they weren't.

They were taking pictures of a diner. Why? Because it was the exterior of the place they used to eat at in Seinfeld. It took me like 5 minutes to figure it out. Hello people, it's been a decade!!!!

2- It's raining and gross and generally rather Eeyore-like today.

Don't worry! Clicking this will make you feel 100% better.

-L

Second verse, same as the first!

Kate and I spent our Sunday at Stink Fest 'o8, a street fair which culminates in a cheese eating contest. It was the same as last year, but everything managed to improve. Last year's cheese eating champ packed away a mere 80z; whereas this year the guy ate nearly a pound. Last year we watched our beloved Marty Markowitz preside over the festivities from a far. This year we chatted with him about the Brooklyn Bridge's birthday, he gave us Brooklyn pins and even posed for a photo with Kate! (If you know Kate you understand that a dream has now been realized) Somehow, the roasted corn even tasted better.  It turns out we even took an eerily similar picture to commerate the day. mmm. Corn. I love traditions. 

it's officially summer- and I'm officially blogging.

Hey there Kids.

Today was the longest day of the year and it was a lovely one.

The Gayrab and I spent the solstice having one of those urban vacation days. We went to Pastis for our beloved French '75 (I know. Pastis. You're rolling your eyes. But I swear we starting going there well before Carrie Bradshaw & co. made it a thing.) I don't know how it's possible, but when one mixes champagne and gin, they become almost refreshing.

Then we took a trip... to Water Taxi Beach. 

First of all, it requires a 

Water Taxi. How novel. After what seemed like a brisk four hours of sunning ourselves on the Hudson, we arrived. There was sand. There was a bar. There were... some interesting people.

After an extended interlude on the dock (and

 legitimate fears that were about to be stranded in Long Island City) we boarded our second water taxi of the day and watched the sunset before dining at South Street Seaport. (Just when you were done judging us on Pastis!) It was sunny and perfect and I never see New York from the water, it looks all shiny and happy. I wanted to cue the theme from Working Girl...

Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me...

This was a terrifyingly long hiatus.  Is anyone even reading this? Unclear. I'm not waiting any longer. It's time for this blog to rear it's ugly head again! I'm sure tens of people are excited! I had thoughts of giving up- but one can't just abandon projects that are nearly four years in the making. Not under my watch. 

I'm not sure why Kevin and I fell off the wagon this time. I think it was a lethal combination. of papers to grade and limited internet access at work. No matter. We're over that.

There are a million things to talk about, and all in good time. I just wanted to write a quick note. I'll leave you with two things:

THIS should make you sit up and worry.  (John McCain is older than chocolate chip cookies! and the polio vaccine! and area codes!) 

For balance, here's a really happy, three year-old picture of Kevin & I in Paris.

I feel better, how about you?

SEE YOU SOON!!!

-Leigh (and Kevin)

I truly, truly think this is one of the funniest things I've ever seen.

XOXO,
Kevin.

Leapin' Leprechauns!

Ooops. I can not fathom that there was no post on this blog for St. Paddys. Granted, this years festivities were a little subdued...but still. Kevin and I are so very proud of our Irishness. We're just slackers...
Today is a bit of a sad day for me. I finally got around to inspecting and registering my car here in the fine state of New York. I've had a NY license for awhile now; but I still had my DC tags on the car. I always liked them. They're special. For those of you who are unaware of the plight of DC, the city has a congresswoman. Who is not allowed to vote. Which means that even though they live at the epicenter of American government, DC residents effectively have no say in it's actions. It's akin to living in say, American Samoa. Or Guam.
The people of the District of Columbia are collectively so fed up with this obvious error that in 2000 they voted to put their anger on their license plates. (It should be noted that the Clinton administration supported this measure; whereas when a certain imbecile was elected, he made them take those plates off his limos.)
Anyway, it always struck me as a cool move. Which is why my plate now hangs in my office as a gesture of solidarity:

Anthropology: Brooklyn Style.

I've been suspicious ever since I moved to Brooklyn. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Something was off about this place. I couldn't decide what it was until a few weeks ago when I was having dinner with friends in Cobble Hill. Cobble hill is not my neck of the Brooklyn Woods. I have lived (albeit briefly) In Fort Greene, and now Clinton Hill and as I was strolling down Court St the other night, it was eerily similar to the summer when I'd poked around in Brooklyn Heights, or hung out at bars on 5th ave or Smith St. But what was it about this borough that was irking me?
Then yesterday as I took a Sunday stroll for coffee and a muffin it hit me. I knew what was wrong.
Every girl in Brooklyn has a hipster boyfriend. Every last one!
Now, I'm not even sure if I'm in the market for a hipster boyfriend- but, boy, if I wanted one this would be the place. Yesterday my ipod-induced solace was constantly interrupted by the plethora of hipster boys on the go. You know them. You've seen them. They have a uniform after all: Skinny jeans, (usually skinner than those on their female counterparts) ratty old converse (or vans.) Sweaters with thumb holes like they are all Kurt-Cobain-playing-MTV-unplugged. (Can be substituted by old- worn in leather jackets [of the motorcycle variety] or of course; the ever popular hoodie/band shirt combo) Aside from their swooning girlfriends; they have standard accessories: ipod, tattered looking book, eco-friendly shopping bag filled organic this-and-that. Perhaps a Baby Bjorn carrier and kid in an American Apparel onesie to boot.
And of course the one accessory that always gets me: The dog. (Usually of the big, friendly mutt variety)
Yesterday these endless, happy twosomes seemed to have taken over. I mean, I know I asked for it. It is Brooklyn afterall. I thought perhaps my mind was exagerating; playing tricks on me.
No Leigh, every girl in Brooklyn doesn't have a hipster boyfriend.
And then I turned the corner, on to my own street and I was behind them:
The adorable couple; walking the French Bulldog while discussing Howard Zinn.
I mean really; how much can one person take?

"What is more Fantasy than peacock?"

Oh, Roberto Cavalli; I couldn't have said it better myself.
It's that bittersweet time of the year again kids. Another season of our beloved Project Runway is about to come to a close. While I'm sure Christian is counting down the moments to his coronation ceremony- I would just like to say that I am rooting for Jillian. I have consistently liked her stuff and she's from Strong Island to boot. (I think Kevin may still be mourning the loss of Chris- whom we all loved- but I'm sorry: you lost me at human hair.
Please chime in the comments section and cast your vote.
In other news- can anyone believe that is March already? Maybe it's just me, but I feel like '08 is whipping on by. Kevin and I will be sunning ourselves in Montauk before we know it. (At least that's how I hope it plays out- I need some warmth) March is good though. I mean, it contains the most important holiday of the year, so how bad could it be?
To end this post of rambling I'd like to add a warm welcome to The Gayrab who has returned to New York and today spends his very first night a matchbox of his own. (Well, more of a gilded cage than a matchbox;I don't think there are too many Matchboxes on the Upper West Side...)