Big Gay Ice Cream
13 April 10, 4:12 pm
Filed under:
food,
gay | Tags:
Bea Arthur,
Big Gay Ice Cream Truck,
Do Your Ears Hang Low,
food,
food truck,
ice cream,
ice cream truck,
Mr. Softee,
New York,
Nutella,
Time Out New York,
Twitter,
wasabiWho can hate creative toppings on his soft serve? Someone who hates life…that’s who. NYC’s Big Gay Ice Cream Truck is a an amazing addition to the City’s standby, but hum drum, Mr. Softee trucks with the same broke down music we experience in Arkansas. Leslie, I really hate it that Do Your Ears Hang Low? continues to plague us while we are 1400 miles apart.
I can’t vouch for the BGICT’s music one way or another, but it certainly gets points for originality. Nutella, wasabi dust, and a treat called the Bea Arthur are just a few reasons to check out this very festive, very mobile, happy-maker. Time Out New York agrees: http://newyork.timeout.com/articles/restaurants-bars/84477/eat-out-awards-2010
Here is the link: http://www.biggayicecreamtruck.com/ where you can find the daily location, get news, and sign up for Big Gay Tweets.
Bon Appetit!
Humpty Dancin’ under Rue Sesame
I am beginning to think the only noteworthy things that happen to me here are on the subway. Okay, that’s not true, but that public transport system is fly paper for weird encounters aplenty, for sure. I hope this one grabs ya in the biscuits….
I hopped on the B this morning, and the train conductor was enunciating really well, and that happens next to never. “Stand clear of the closing doors” typically sounds like “Stanclerdors” or something to that unintelligible effect. So, the guy this morning sounded like a broadcast journalist in comparison. After 2 stops, I realize his voice reminded me of junior high, and I figured it out by the Rockefeller Center stop. Digital Underground was driving my train. I mean, the Humpty Dance could have blasted over the sad, subway speakers, and I would have not been surprised. I honest to god went to look at the conductor when I hopped off at my stop. I was sad to learn that there was no celebrity trying to be a regular dude for the day, but it sho did make me happy thinking that was the case. Sometimes it’s best not to look.
A slightly less entertaining interlude was observing the woman of a couple sitting next to me. She was notably figitty, moving around from seat to seat, but I think she was just trying to find a subway map. She finally asked her husband a question, and she sounded just like Ernie of Seasame Street fame, but in French. She had lots of questions about streets (rues in French), which made it even funnier to me. I was disappointed that her husband did not sound like Bert or have a rubber duckie to illustrate a point. I guess we can ask only so much of our tourists.
Alright, y’all, I’m gonna get back to my oatmeal, lumpy, and all your crackers and your licorice.
my boys from Le Rue Sesamethis guy once got busy in a Burger King bathroom, I hear.
ko-mee-chee-woooooo
Well, I think the midwest (or Oklahoma, I’m not sure which), has us beat, Southerners…at least this morning.
On this very rainy morning, I hopped on the train and headed uptown with the rest of the soggy masses. There was even less talking, soliciting, and music making activity than usual.
At the 42nd Street stop, a very loud family entered the train close to where I was seated, unfortunately. The very smiley couple sat and looked at their surroundings as though they had never entered such a vessel before. The mom had a big Aqua Net helmet, and the dad proudly displayed a Nazarene University ball cap. Kids (3) were dressed appropriately as kids.
Mom begins by greeting the car with a billowing “well, hello, New York!” It caught me off guard, and I mistook her for a beggar, announcing to the car that he had a story to share, as often happens. I was mistaken. The woman then turns to the Asian man sitting next to her, touches him on the arm, and says very slowly, very loudly ”ko-mee-chee-wooo.” Now, I suppose she was trying to say “konnichiwa,” and I suppose she was just doing what seemed friendly, but I also suppose she determined that was not enough. She then asked her family members, “can you all say ‘ko-mee-chee-woo’ to the nice gentleman?” All of them, responding in kind, greeted the man who looked more Korean than Japanese with a rousing “ko-mee-chee-woo!” This awkward chorus resounded (in unison) about 4 times before I left the train.
The poor man was probably subjected to more malapropisms and corresponding sympathetic looks before his stop. I’m happy to say I left the train unscathed. I’m also happy to report there was no southern drawl in her voice. It may be a small victory, or not a victory at all, for my native land not to count her as one of our own. I am always glad to learn there are other regional groups that make asses of themselves.
In other news, it looks like NYC will break its March rainfall record in the next 36 hours. The entire city looks like the Hendrix campus after 3 inches of rain. I have to remember this is an island, after all. http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/nyc_to_set_record_rainfall_totals_NpwXR0NRIVlFcobkioEpTL
Save the serial/Oxford comma!
Before you read this post, I hope you’ll remember that I am a huge grammar/punctuation/word nerd. This article fed my soul. I hope a little part of your college paper-writing side loves it, too: http://www.visualthesaurus.com/cm/wc/2211/
I don’t remember the example that Dr. Storey used to site in defense of the serial comma. With the comma, the series was a list of items (albeit a somewhat disturbing list). Without the comma, the series results in bourbon and murder or bourbon and hookers. Can’t remember exactly. Robert Woods, you’re the one who recounted this example to me during a hungover morning conversation in the pecan court. Help!
Also, you should all sign up for Visual Thesaurus if writing is a part of your daily life. A Hendrix colleague turned me on to it once upon a time, and I’ve been using it ever since. Again, remember my love of words….
Happy Monday!
Blanca wants to go home with you….
Haven’t you always dreamed of yourself driving, with wind blowing through your hair? But not too much wind because you want a sunroof, not a convertible. Well kids, here. is. your. chance.
I’m selling Blanca, or as one likes to call her, Joan Jetta. She’s a 2009 VW Jetta, white with tan leather interior, heated seats, sunroof, 6 disc changer, satellite radio, and many other amazing features such as a fold down back seat, great for loading up all kinds of gear. She wants to go home with you…badly. Please don’t disappoint her, and tell me you need such a beautiful addition to your family. She has 20,000 miles of love to her credit, and she would love to give you many more happy miles.
Seriously, let me know if you are interested. Tell your mom. Tell your friends. Tell your enemies. Just help me get Blanca to a new, loving home.
new word in the vocabulary
I didn’t know what a sitzprobe was before I started working at New York City Opera (NYCO) two weeks ago. It sounds like a really bad German techno dance move to me, but in reality, it’s the first time vocalist and instrumentalists have a seated rehearsal. I went to hear a “sitz” for Madama Butterfly at NYCO’s theater (the David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center). The sounds were amazing, as was the space. Here’s a photo:
Attention, attention…
Interesting announcement on the train…
Yesterday I hopped on the train after work a few minutes ahead of my usual 6/6:15. I had high hopes that I would have a jump on the masses. Much to my dismay, as I stepped onto the most crowded F train in the history of the world, the conductor had this to say:
“Attention ladies and gentlemen, a crowded subway train is no excuse for unlawful sexual activity. Thank you.”
It’s called frotteurism, people. See the definition here:
Main Entry: frot·teur·ism
Pronunciation: -”iz-&m
Function: noun
: the paraphiliac practice of achieving sexual stimulation or orgasm bytouching and rubbing against a person without the person’s consent and usually in a public place called also frottage.
A dear friend of mine who lived in Japan for a period of time told me that the Tokyo subway system runs at roughly 180% capacity at peak times and that they use giant objects that resemble Q-tips to shove people into the trains. Apparently there is a huge pervert problem in Tokyo, strange for such a seemingly polite culture. There are even women only cars during peak hours. I couldn’t find a picture of the giant Q-tip stuffers, but below is an amusing photo, somewhat unrelated albeit.
Let’s just hope my conductor’s remarks were in the abstract.
9
Understatement alert: there are crazy things around every corner here. Here were a couple of my favorite from last week.
#1 concrete art with googly eyes all over my neighborhood
#2 emu eggs at Whole Foods, $29.99 each
progress report: Huey P. Long
Everyone I talk to wants to know how my baby dog is adjusting. The answer, in a word, is: fine. He doesn’t have as many visitors, so there’s not as much to wag a tail about. He has discovered, however, a Wheaton Terrier who he fancies. I’m pretty sure he thinks she is Wrigley. We miss you Wrigley!
The most interesting part of the transition has been learning where to poop. In case you folks are unaware, there’s not a ton of grass in New York. My neighborhood has more than the average neighborhood, but the people who have kiddos don’t like your dog pooping on the sidewalk. I’m happy to report that Huey has learned to poop on the sidewalk, and his owner has learned how to pick it up, religiously. I feared the snow, which he favored, when melted, would really confuse him. Apparently that is not the case.
We have tons of pups in the ‘hood, and people with dogs tend to be friendlier and make conversation with me as long as I have Huey in tow. He’s as cute here as he was in Arkansas if you were worried. I’ll give more updates next week after we meet our vet at Vinegar Hill Veterinary Clinic and our doggie day care/spa spot.
For now, here’s a photo of Huey and Nick napping the weekend I moved in.
Umbrella #1
A wise woman and great friend told me just yesterday, “you are going to break a lot of umbrellas in NYC, and it’s OKAY.” Boy was that wise woman right. Yesterday I bought my first New York umbrella, all cute and purple, at the Duane Reed. Today, I thought a quick walk to Brooklyn Heights for some thrift store perusing would be a good idea. ”It was not,” said the purple umbrella. I’m going to pour a little out for the first umbrella casualty of many to come. See below for photographic evidence.
DUMBO
As most of you know, I’m a resident of DUMBO, a Brooklyn neighborhood. In case I haven’t told you before, DUMBO stands for Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass. If you want to know more about what happens in my hood, here is a great site with all things related to my little Brooklyn nook.
*Oh yeah, and the photo in my banner was taken by moi on 4 July 2009 from a park in DUMBO at the base of the Brooklyn Bridge.*
Chinatown g-fish
I thought these lovely, very gold goldfish deserved some attention. I saw them prior to my move. The day was as bright as these guys.
