hos at montrose

Spent the July 4th weekend moving Puck into her new apartment just a twenty minute walk from mine. Dog is happy with his new friends. Turns out my last post was clairvoyant or soothsaying or just plain right because the bike seat gave me what is known in the scientific community as "ingrown hairs" in an unsavory region of my body which gave me a weeklong scare as I NYU-bused from one doctor to another in search of the proper name for the unwanted toppings on my taco. My apologies for writing that disgusting turnaphrase. I've never either 1) referred to my crotch on this blog or 2) called my crotch a taco and I think I oughta stick to those rules. I think the best part about living in East Williamsburg is that there are long tracts of car-free space in which to bike around at race pace, leaning into turns like a motocross racer. The worst part about living in East Williamsburg is attempting to watch the World Cup soccer game at a bar at three in the afternoon at Bedford and trying and failing to find a seat in a pitch black bar where a hundred people with fake European accents and a couple of anorexics in tight tapered black jeans and big sunglasses tell you that you are standing in the way of their view or could you move because our friends are sitting here? Gah.