So my G3 has been indisposed (meaning, parked under my old desk because I was too damn lazy to cart it home), and while I await its eventual return, I've been frequenting internet cafes, paying their usurious rates to log on.
The one in Hell's Kitchen at 49th & 9th -- not so good. Really bad radio station choice, the coffee fixin's area is nothing short of disgusting, and lots and lots of actor-types. You know who I mean -- they look at you with that alert, expectant look, diligently making eye contact because you never know when you'll get your big break. Plus, the neighborhood has gone nauseatingly upscale since I lived there -- and yet, as it has classed up, it's loathsomeness factor has multiplied a thousandfold. Maybe it's just that as more bars and restaurants have moved in, the oily O&M types are sticking around the neighborhood instead of heading to the Upper East Side or Hoboken, where they belong.
The one in the girdle factory in Williamsburg. Also not so good. In fact, filthy, filthy, filthy. The keyboards are so grime-encrusted that you feel like you need a penicillin shot after using one of their stations. Not to mention you get to rub shoulders with New York City's most loathsome creatures of all, the hipsters. I know, the word is already outdated, but how the hell else can you describe these irritating trust fund brats? I want to knock every single one of those stupid knit short-billed army caps off of every single one of their heads and personally take steps to remove those full-sleeve tattoos they've all had done in the last couple of years.
East Village. Now, most of my friends know that I am NO FAN of the East Village. Full disclosure, I didn't like it before it became "gentrified" - as much as dingy tenements parked next to the projects can be gentrified, so there was never much hope that I would ever like it. But, this little internet cafe at the corner of 1st Ave and 3rd Street, I dig. First of all, yesterday they were rocking serious Zeppelin, and what's not to like about that? And today, the 80's are the Sirius Satellite choice of the day. Again, what's not to like? After all, the 80's were the decade that gave us a shitty one-hit-wonder song with my name in it. The glass cases are full of scrumptious-looking goodies, and the coffee is quite good. And they have this one station, scrunched into a corner, where I have nearly total privacy. And if you want the real deal of full-sleeve tattoo art, the HA NYC clubhouse is just around the corner. I dare any one of Williamsburg's hipster class to go there and mouth off -- just once. Please. But pleeeeease -- make sure I'm around when you do it, so I can watch as they rearrange your face.
Yes, yes, I know, I need to get my own computer up and running again at home -- but honestly, I'm afraid if I do that, I'll turn into one of those complete introverts with dirty teeth and dirty hair, schlepping around in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with pizza grease stains all over it. Since that's my usual Sunday outfit to begin with, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to extend that into the weekdays.
And my last notation of the day, my old pal EmKay got a nice writeup in the Voice, the featured bar review of the week! Good for him, now will you people just go there and order a Cuban sandwich already? I'll be the one at the front end of the bar, sipping a nice red, reading a book, and tapping the bar in time to "When The Levee Breaks."
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