The Brooklyn Museum

Inspired by Walter's appreciation for the Fine Culture in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, I decided to do some Hi-Culturing of myself. The Brooklyn Museum has a Norman Rockwell exhibit I've been meaning to go see for a while now. I'm thinking it lasts til sometime in April. Go see it. It has tons of his original paintings and the staged photographs he produced to piece together his portraits of America. Pure awesomeness.

The two shitty photographs above were all I managed to take, because photography in this exhibit is prohibited, and some old lady told on me. Damn noisy autofocus is what gave me away. I could feel the security start to swarm, and so I ditched my efforts. Anyways, the cool part about this exhibit is seeing Rockwell's process for capturing these hyper-realistic, super-detailed scenes. My favorite part was seeing how he propped up his models with books and boxes so he could position them just right long enough for what I imagine was touchy photo equipment to get a good exposure. Even the chinless grimaces and curled toes were planned out in the photographs.

This is the first time I've been in a respectable museum and seen a piece produced by someone younger than me. It made me wonder if I was doing enough with my life. I mean, shit, this painting above was done by some girl born in the Eighties. But it was ok. Luckily the description said the painting included cryptic references to personally significant events in the artists life, so you know it's pure crap. OMG, you were born in 1982? You should put that number over and over again in your bullshit paintings about your Sea-Monkey friends doing 'shrooms at Coachella. It totally has lots of meaning and stuff.

This dude kept getting in my shots, so here he is being a perv.

Afterwards, I went to Papacito's in Greenpoint for some tacos. I was skeptical because most Mexican food in NYC completely sucks balls, and after following NewYorkShitty Blog for some time, I was expecting Greenpoint to be utterly depressing and filled with miserable Eastern European immigrants schlepping around bed bug-ridden mattresses while picking at their facial moles. But Greenpoint is actually pretty much the stereotypical hipster Brooklyn hood (with Polish bodegas).

When I strolled up, Papacito's had a small group of hipsters taking up the entire sidewalk, holding a discussion about the importance of antique equipment in their production of artisanal pancakes. This is the kinda place 20-somethings with arms loaded with tattoos from cultures they don't belong to like to hang out. Also, Japanese girls that dress like Pablo Picasso like this place, too. Apparently, it was Heavy Metal Sunday which means they play Quiet Riot and Joan Jett.

The Chorizo Taco (the red one) was pretty fucking delicious. While taking this photo, I noticed people staring at me. Yep, I'm an asshole with a blog. I take pictures of my food before I eat it.

White Lie Saturday

I worked another 80 hour week again. My girl, of course wanted to spend all weekend dragging me from store to store looking for high heels that she never wears any ways. But I lied and told her I was working Saturday, and was able to get a little sanity in my weekend. I called up Matt from Olde Pro, and we made a plan. The plan was to go shoe shopping.

This is Frankel's in Brooklyn. It is by far one of the most reasonably-priced workwear/boot stores I've ever been to. I never got the guy's name who runs the store, because he's constantly interrupting you and changing the subject. (Update: His name is Frankel) He does most of his business online selling boots to Japan, and he employs eight neighborhood girls to take care of all the shipping.

Here's Matt trying on the latest from Thorogood. Frankel's has everything, and he keeps up with all the Japanese trends. That second shoe from the left, below, is what all the Japs are going crazy for now. It's only a matter of time before you see all the Socal kids wearing them. I will barf on whoever I see with these. Also, I bought some 8" Thorogood Moccasin Toes so I could fit in with everyone at work.

Pastrami-Reuben break.

We were in Red Hook, so we decided to bother Keino. Keino was very gracious with his time even though he doesn't know us from a couple of pushy local hipsters. His power was out in his shop when we barged our way through the door, and we sat there staring at him while he and a friend tried to get the lights turned back on. The lights came on, and we proceeded to snap pictures and talk about ourselves (at least that was my agenda) as Keino showed us around his shop. Needless to say, it was filled with tons of cool shit.

Then we excused ourselves and headed over to Machina Cycles. This is where Matt keeps his sweet Sporty. He was having trouble getting it started after the long winter, so I convinced him to take it half-apart and travel halfway around Brooklyn looking for spark plugs all to no avail. After I left, Matt put a heavy-duty car battery jump starter on it, and the Sporty fired right up. Don't listen to me, Matt.

Bag o'shit on Verona Street. I love Brooklyn.

80 Hour Work Week

Your Head's Got A Little Machine

Serious case of Cabin Fever going on here. Why the fuck do people live where it snows? It's not that it's uncomfortable, like stinging cold in my bones or anything. All you need is the proper clothes, and you'll be completely comfortable. The real problem is not being able to go outside and just enjoy yourself (i.e. Motor-fucking-cycling) Sure I live in the city, and I'm having no problem getting around, but that's it. Get up, go to work, work, and go home. Fucking robot life. And FUCK winter sports.

These people need their heads examined.

Soon Enough, Buddy-Boy

With just a minor face-lift.