No Pants

There seems to be a running theme in my room this year. Today, me and Maddy ran into our apartment, each went our separate ways (me bathroom, and her bedroom), only to reemerge simultaneously and collide in the kitchen - with no pants. Absolutely too much. It just seems to be the first thing that crosses our mind once we're home. And it's inappropriate. And its absolute love. So take your goddamn pants off and discover the freedom you're missing.

OMGOGMFODJFLSDLKJD!@!!!!!!

Thanks must go out to condensed soup. enjoy yourself bitches.

This morning marks the second day in a row I've had breakfast at the Landmark (Grand St. between Centre and Laff). I always liked this place, but the last 48 hours have completely re-affirmed my love for diners, and my faith that cheap, delicious food is still to be found in shabby, but endearing environments in Manhattan. I don't know where else you can get french toast, coffee or tea, and ham, bacon, or sausage for $5.25. Unheard of.

And its not just the food. Oh no. The wait staff comprises of 3 chinese (Cantonese speaking?) ladies, who, in the most stereotypical accent and sing-song voice I've ever heard in my life, shout your order to the kitchen, and then, once your food arrives, forget you exist. When you've lost all hope that your check will ever arrive, it does, and once you see the total, all is forgiven.

Today I had the particular pleasure of hearing an elderly french couple who spoke virtually no english, attempt to converse and convey their breakfast needs to the waitress. It was amazing. I think the only words they both understood were, "Oui oui oui oui oui." Thank god for the universal language of signing, pointing, and repetition. 2 boxes of special K and 2 mugs of tea later, another satisfied table, another amazing episode of what would be, a spectacular reality show.

Under the Sea

I eated them all!!!!!

Thanks must go out once again to the glucksman ireland house for filling the voids in my social life. Saturday I tagged along on an MA program field trip through lower Manhattan. Beginning in Nolita, we explored the crypt of Old St. Patrick's Cathedral. I must admit, it was a bit of a let down. Not nearly as creepy and dark and dingy as I would have liked for a 200 year old catholic church. So after hearing way too much about dead irishmen and their resting places, we walked, in the torrential rain, down to wall street. Stopping briefly in front of the Emigrant Savings Bank, City Hall, and St. Paul's Church. Our final destination was Ulysses. Ulysses is located on that oh so quaint section of Pearl Street next to a dozen other "period" pubs and restaurants. However, despite its overpriced and overly authentic atmosphere, not only was a happily able to consume a basket of baby calamaris, but I also had the pleasure of staying way too long to avoid the rain, entertained by the characters of irish study, Harp, and my trusty supervisor. I have the best job ever. period.