The Tin Man » 2005

Tuesday, February 1, 2005

I went to an orthopedist yesterday. For the last couple of months my knees have had a slight cracking sensation when I’ve moved them in particular directions (although no pain), so I decided to see someone. After X-raying my knees, the doctor told me I had the best set of X-rays he’d seen in six months. It turns out the cracking sensation is from a weakness in a particular muscle on each knee. So he’s sending me to physical therapy for eight visits for (and I quote from the prescription) “quad strengthening exercises for min[or] patella subluxation.” I don’t need surgery (whew)!

Sigh… it’s always something with me. It really is.

9:28 AM | 4 drops of oil

I hate automatic phone systems that require you to speak your choices instead of entering them with the keypad. I feel so stupid talking to a computer that’s pretending to be a real person.

Even worse, I discovered today that if you cough or loudly clear your throat while the computer is talking, it thinks you’re trying to say something it doesn’t understand, and it interrupts itself to tell you as such before going back to the beginning of whatever it was saying. If it’s a long cough or throat-clearing, you get stuck in a phone-tree whirlwind and wind up someplace completely unknown.

Do the people who designed these systems think we’re handless? I know there are disabled people out there, but I’d at least like to have the option of dialing instead of feeling like an idiot.

2:30 PM | 3 drops of oil

Wednesday, February 2, 2005

Forget the Feburary doldrums. It’s a busy month for us here at the Tin Man.

Tonight I’m seeing Twelve Angry Men. My mom’s friend from high school is in it, so that’ll be a treat.

Tomorrow night, Matt and I are seeing a preview of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. The movie is one of the funniest I’ve ever seen, and I’m a little nervous about how the musical will turn out.

Next Thursday we’re seeing La Cage Aux Folles.

Next Friday we’re seeing Megan Mullally perform as part of the American Songbook series at the Allen Room at Jazz at Lincoln Center, overlooking Central Park. I can’t wait to see her.

Then next Saturday night, February 12, our chorus is performing at Town Hall (not to be confused with City Hall) as part of the Gay Valentine Music Celebration, a benefit for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS.

And the following week we’re seeing a preview of Spamalot, which has the craziest website ever.

And that merely takes us just past the halfway point of February.

Sigh… I love New York.

(If you’re wondering how we can afford all this stuff: Matt’s a member of TDF, so we get most of our tickets for about $30 each.)

10:40 AM | 11 drops of oil

Thursday, February 3, 2005

It’s always fun to read bad reviews of Broadway musicals. Here’s a bunch for Good Vibrations, which opened last night.

Oh: Twelve Angry Men, which I saw last night, is worth seeing for its entertaining plot and fine performances (many familiar faces in the cast), even if it’s dated and hokey at times.

1:18 PM | Comments Off

The Butcher of Broadway is getting boring. In the past, I’ve enjoyed Frank Rich’s weekly column in the Sunday Times Arts & Lesiure section, but lately he’s been repetitive. All he seems to write about these days is media censorship. Granted, it’s an important topic, and I pretty much agree with his views on it, but isn’t there anything else he can write about? His column isn’t really a good match for the Arts & Leisure section anyway - he’s too political for that apolitical section. A better place for him would be in the Arts & Ideas section on Saturday (he used to appear on the Op-Ed page every other Saturday, actually), but nobody reads the Saturday paper, and Frank Rich is a marquee name at the Times.

Ah, well. I’ll keep reading, I guess.

4:41 PM | 3 drops of oil

Friday, February 4, 2005

Matt and I saw Dirty Rotten Scoundrels last night. Get tickets now. It’s going to be a hit. (At least until it gets overshadowed by Spamalot.)

Perhaps it’s just that there’s been a dearth of Broadway musical comedy lately. Before last night, I hadn’t seen a truly funny Broadway musical in a long time. The last time I laughed hard at a Broadway musical was at Avenue Q; the last time I laughed hard at a Broadway musical not starring puppets was at The Producers more than three years ago. (There was also The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee last month, but that’s not on Broadway and it’s also not a comparable show.)

It doesn’t hurt that Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is based on what I think is one of the funniest movies ever made. In fact, the musical strays very little from the original plot - much of the dialogue is lifted straight from the film. That was fine with me, because it meant that many of my favorite moments were included. The main change to the book is that the roles of the police chief and of one of Lawrence’s marks (played by Gregory Jbarra and Joanna Gleason, respectively) have been expanded. The two perform just swimmingly in their supporting roles. Gregory Jbarra is nearly flawless as the police chief (although his accent slipped a couple of times). Joanna Gleason has much of the new dialogue, and most of her lines are hysterical. She’s always so much fun to watch.

I wasn’t sure what I’d think of John Lithgow and Norbert Leo Butz in the main roles, because Michael Caine and Steve Martin own those parts. But Lithgow made Lawrence his own. Butz was great as Freddy, and very funny; he, too, made his part his own, although he didn’t erase Steve Martin from my mind. Sheri Rene Scott did a great job as the female lead, Christine (the character was named Janet in the movie).

One particular musical number could be cut for length and irrelevance. But the show just began previews, so who knows what will happen, although I’m sure most of the tweaking already occurred during the show’s run in California.

It was so refreshing to be able to go to the theater and laugh again. I thoroughly enjoyed myself at Dirty Rotten Scoundrels - and that’s not something you can say about many Broadway musicals these days.

Oh, and for the second time in five months, we saw Joan Rivers in the audience, plastic face and all. (And maybe Steve Martin. I don’t think it was him, but Matt says it might have been.)

1:50 PM | 3 drops of oil

Tuesday, February 8, 2005

I’ve received my state tax refund. Yay! Hooray for NJ TeleFile and direct deposit. It’s going from my bank account right into my ING Direct savings account.

I’m one of the few people who actually enjoy doing taxes. Of course, since I take the standard deduction and don’t have any investment income, my taxes are relatively simple. So I did my state and federal taxes the day I got my W-2 form, and I got my state refund 11 days later.

My combined state and federal refund this year is less than half what it was last year. I was expecting more. Boo. But I guess it means I didn’t give the government a very big interest-free loan all year, as my friend put it.

Anyway. Yay.

12:26 PM | Comments Off

Google Maps. Click-and-drag maps. Awesome.

(Update: Try getting directions from one point to another. Then you can drag the mouse along the route, and it’s almost like you’re virtually travelling from your starting point to your destination. I just traveled from NYC to the University of Virginia that way.)

1:31 PM | Comments Off

Salon.com | More gay cartoon characters revealed!

Snagglepuss and Huckleberry soon became confidants of other prominent cartoon characters struggling with their homosexuality. And what started as an informal support group slowly morphed into a political action network.

“During the mid-’70s, the public became more aware of just how many celebrities were gay,” explains Snagglepuss, turning serious. “Well, that included us, and people began speculating about cartoons the same way they did about human actors.”

“The ironic thing is, they were wrong about one of the first gay icons,” he adds. “There was always a lot of talk about Velma, but she’s strictly hetero.”

2:11 PM | Comments Off

Wednesday, February 9, 2005

Oh, David, you crack me up.

11:30 AM | Comments Off

The Gates @ Central Park: a blog about Christo’s Gates project.

12:21 PM | 3 drops of oil

Thursday, February 10, 2005

This is just too good not to link to.

Bush press pal quits over gay prostie link

WASHINGTON - A conservative ringer who was given a press pass to the White House and lobbed softball questions at President Bush quit yesterday after left-leaning Internet bloggers discovered possible ties to gay prostitution.

Apparently this has been making the political blogging circuit lately. There are a bunch of links here and also here.

9:43 AM | 1 drop of oil

Last night I dreamed about Rush Limbaugh.

What the fuck.

Matt and I were in Matt’s apartment, sitting on the couch. It was nighttime, and Matt and I needed turndown service for our bed. So the lobby sent up Rush Limbaugh. Rush explained that he was the new housekeeping person, and he went into the bedroom and proceeded to neatly turn down the blankets. He was very nice and conversational and almost motherly. I was initially suspicious - I mean, it was Rush Limbaugh - but I found myself moved by his gentleness.

What does it mean?

I think I have a deep need to be loved, and I feel personally hurt when all the hateful, judgmental people out there preach against us and attack us. On some level I think I associate it with the way my dad used to treat me when I was a kid. My dad, and my understanding of him, have changed greatly since then, and I do love him, but I guess there are still some scars.

I already knew all this, but sometimes your dreams can crystallize things.

10:33 AM | 2 drops of oil

This Image Puzzle is driving me nuts - particularly Stage 4. There seems to be something there, but I can’t see what it is.

Gahh.

1:33 PM | 17 drops of oil

Ron writes on Jeff Gannon as well. This story is so bizarre.

3:43 PM | 1 drop of oil

Friday, February 11, 2005

I have off from work today, because tomorrow is Abraham Lincoln’s birthday.

Not this coming Monday, but the following Monday, I have off from work for Washington’s birthday. Yep - we get not just one President’s Day, but two.

Every year I get 20 vacation days, 15 sick days, three “administrative leave” days (which I can use as I see fit), and 14 state/federal holidays.

Wow - I just realized that out of about 260 weekdays per year, I get 52 days off. That’s a full 20 percent.

Don’t you hate me?

11:34 AM | 5 drops of oil

Monday, February 14, 2005

Yesterday we went to Central Park to see The Gates. I’m having difficulty writing about them.

How do you write about something that has no meaning? About something that’s just pretty? I wonder if that’s the point of the Gates - that they mock our need to find meaning. It’s okay merely to describe how the Gates look and what they make you feel or think. There’s no prescribed way. Meaning isn’t important. It’s all very Zennish.

With that preamble - the Gates are pretty cool. I like how a gust of wind will rush through a row of them, making some of them billow while inexplicably leaving others alone.

I was surprised that the Gates are not all the same width. Each Gate is as wide as the pathway it’s on. A Gate is not expandable - its width cannot be adjusted - so it’s as if it can be only at that one spot and no other. I wonder if each Gate had an assigned location.

At one point yesterday I turned to Matt and said in this mock-Valley-Girl/mock-stoned voice, “I think, that, like, each of the Gates? Has its own personality?”

We spent nearly two hours walking through the park, starting at 81st and Central Park West. We walked up to Summit Rock, over to the Great Lawn, up to the southern edge of the Reservoir, back down around the Lawn, up to Belvedere Castle (the crowds on the stairway leading up to it got backed up), down through the Rambles (which were gateless), past the lake, over to Bethesda Fountain, then over to Columbus Circle. As we reached the southwestern corner of the park, we saw a bunch of people taking photos of one particular Gate. We wondered what was going on, and then we looked up and saw a hawk devouring a squirrel on a tree branch. Gross. I guess the Gates can’t divert attention from everything.

Here are a ton of Flickr photos. And I particularly like Matt Pecori’s photos.

It’s too bad we didn’t go on Saturday, or maybe we could have gotten one of the free fabric swatches. Jake Dobkin appears to have found particularly good use for one; I think this is my favorite Gates photo of all.

11:37 AM | 4 drops of oil

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Matt and I have been working our way through the “Wonderfalls” DVDs. “Wonderfalls,” if you’re not familiar, is an incredibly funny one-hour TV series that premiered on Fox last March about a 20something slacker girl (played with a perfect mix of cynicism and vulnerability by Caroline Dhavernas) who works at a gift shop at Niagara Falls and believes that inanimate animal-like objects are talking to her - a wax lion, a lawn flamingo, a cow creamer, etc. Despite critical raves, it was unjustly cancelled after four episodes due to low ratings. Nine remaining episodes were never aired, but now all 13 are out on DVD. What did we ever do before DVD?

We’ve watched six episodes so far - the four that we first saw on TV plus the first two of the unaired ones - and I’m sad that we’re nearly halfway through. Each episode is so wonderful and unpredictable. The plot begins to develop further in the unaired episodes; I’ve been studiously avoiding spoilers (unlike some people), but I do know that the 13 episodes reach some sort of conclusion, which is good to know.

And two of the joys of watching the series are hotties Tyron Leitso and Lee Pace. Tyron Leitso is just too cute for words, and I saw the brilliant Lee Pace last year in Small Tragedy and “Soldier’s Girl.”

12:45 PM | 1 drop of oil

Oh, wow - I’d completely forgotten about this MCI parody of an AT&T commercial:

And one 1982 television commercial parodied AT&T’s “reach out and touch someone” spots. In it, a man confronts his sobbing wife: “Have you been talking to our son on long distance again? Did he tell you how much he loves you? Why on earth are you crying?” The woman replies, “Have you seen our long-distance bill?”

Actually, I thought it was “Have you seen the bill?”, but close enough. And I seem to remember that the MCI commercial used the same couple as the AT&T commercial, but I could be wrong.

3:42 PM | Comments Off

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

I just found out that two guys - both of whom I had huge crushes on, and neither of whom I ever got to sleep with - used to date each other.

Mike would probably say he finds the idea incredibly hot, but I’m just jealous.

12:03 PM | 2 drops of oil

Dread of Sunday Night Even Afflicts People Who Like Their Work (via kottke)

To this day, Prof. Weintraub tries to squeeze as much weekend out of the weekend as he can. “I know if I sleep, the next thing I know I’ll wake up and it will be Monday,” he says. His favorite night of the week isn’t Friday but Thursday, because then he can still anticipate the weekend before the clock has started running on it. Come to think of it, he says, his Sunday nights really begin on Saturday, when he realizes the weekend is half over and the workweek is looming.

I get the Sunday Night Dreads, too. My favorite night of the week by far is Friday; when I was a kid, Friday after school was when I’d walk to the comic book store and pick up the new reads, and Friday night my parents would watch “Dallas” and “Falcon Crest.” (I soon got into “Falcon Crest” myself.) Today, Friday nights are just as enjoyable.

Matt’s and my weekends have been pretty boring lately. (Well, last weekend was busier, actually, and so will the upcoming one.) Our weeknights have been so busy with rehearsal, theater, trivia, etc., that we’ve just vegged on the weekend afternoons. I don’t like it, though - I always feel like I want to be out doing something, although I never seem to know what (and we’re in New York City!), while Matt’s content to just relax. Like the professor quoted above, I try to “squeeze as much weekend out of the weekend” as I can.

It would be so much cooler if we worked for two days and then relaxed for five.

2:56 PM | Comments Off

Congratulations to Carlee, a beautiful German Shorthaired Pointer that won Best in Show at the Westminster Kennel Club yesterday. My mom called to tell me today, and she was so excited because my parents have a German Shorthaired Pointer as well.

My parents’ dog has more brown splotches than Carlee and is much less well-behaved.

Actually, my parents’ dog is nuts. If anyone’s thinking of getting a GSP after watching the dog show, think twice. They look pretty, but they’re bundles of hyperkinetic energy.

4:28 PM | 1 drop of oil

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Dan Savage on Maya Keyes, the lesbian daughter of conservative idiot Alan Keyes:

But I can’t enjoy this news about Maya Keyes as much as most gays and lesbians. As a parent, you see, I feel Alan Keyes’s pain - and Randall Terry’s too. I can empathize with their desire not to see their children grow up to be one of us because I live in mortal fear of my child growing up to be one of them.

As a gay parent, Dan Savage always has an interesting perspective on things.

11:54 AM | 7 drops of oil

OLYMPICS GO HOME: 88 things the International Olympic Committee should know about New York City before making a decision about 2012.

My favorite (based on my cursory perusal):

“84. We’re already the best city in the world—without your help, thanks very much.”

Amen.

1:24 PM | 1 drop of oil

Friday, February 18, 2005

I forgot to mention that we went to WYSIWYG’s “Spawn.Of.Worst.Sex.Ever!” on Tuesday night, and it was hysterical. The only two performers I knew were MAK and Dr. Faustus. MAK’s story, despite the bad sex described therein, was very cute. Faustus sang an original song about orgies. Faustus is so fucking talented - this is the second time I’ve seen him perform an original song at WYSIWYG, and I don’t know how he pulls these gems out of his ass. Though I guess when so much has gone in that ass, wonderful things are bound to come out. (God, that was an awful attempt at a witty metaphor.)

There was also Blaise, about whom I’d heard so much but whom I’d never met before; WYSIWYG founder, your friend and mine, Chris, who talked about “titties,” among other things; this guy, who. was. fucking. amazing; Chelsea Peretti; Cheryl B. of The B List; and Bad Man.

It was a great show, as usual. Hats off to Chris, Dan, and Andy!

Was there anyone else in the audience who reads me and I don’t know about?

10:35 AM | 7 drops of oil

Great Salon.com article on The Silmarillion, the prequel to The Lord of the Rings.

2:49 PM | Comments Off

Matt is photoblogging as part of this. I suspect there will be some photos of me at some point.

5:12 PM | Comments Off

Sunday, February 20, 2005

I’ve mentioned before that I sing with a gay men’s chorus in New York called the Gay Gotham Chorus, as does Matt. A few weeks ago, our conductor was asked whether anyone in our group would like to sing Beethoven’s Mass in C at Carnegie Hall this Tuesday night. The chorale would consist mainly of a few college and high school choruses visiting New York from such places as Arkansas, South Carolina, and Alabama. See, there’s this organization that arranges for choruses to come to New York and sing at Carnegie Hall, the choruses pay the organization to arrange the concert and handle all the details.

Matt and I had never sung at Carnegie Hall before, so we both volunteered to do it. Today we had our first rehearsal, four hours long, and tomorrow we have another one, and then Tuesday night is the concert.

Now it turns out that the concert manager for the organization running the event was my men’s glee club conductor back in college. I didn’t come out until after college, so he never knew I was gay. But now he’d obviously know, since my current conductor gave him the list of people from our chorus who’d be singing. I was glad that he’d finally know that I’m gay. He’s not gay himself, but he was something of a mentor to me back in college, so I’ve wanted him to know this important thing about me.

I called him yesterday to briefly say hi. Then today, when Matt and I and the two other volunteers from our chorus showed up at the rehearsal, he came over to me and gave me a big hug. He couldn’t care in the slightest that I’m gay, of course. After he said hi, he went back to take care of managerial duties.

About 15 minutes later, while people were still arriving, he came back over and said there was a little problem and asked if he could talk to me. So I went over to talk to him and another of the organizers.

It turned out that one of the participating choruses - the centerpiece of the program, in fact - was this women’s choir from a conservative Baptist college in Alabama. Because of this, my former conductor and the other organizer were nervous about introducing us four guys as “members of the Gay Gotham Chorus.” So he asked if it was okay to introduce us as members of the “Gotham Chorus” instead, and they both apologized profusely. I said sure, no problem. It really made no difference to me.

Afterwards, of course, I fantasized about making a big symbolic statement out of our presence. Perhaps we could refer to ourselves as members of the Gotham Sodomite Chorus.

I mean, sure, this conservative southern Baptist college women’s choir paid to come to New York and sing at Carnegie Hall. God forbid they might have to sing with four ringers from a self-identified gay men’s chorus in their midst. Avowed homosexual singers!

Of course, maybe they wouldn’t have cared. The concern was raised by my former conductor and the other organizer, not the women themselves, who remained innocently unaware of the homos in their presence.

It’s ironic that these women would come to New York only to be shielded from the gays. I mean, it’s our fucking city, and we exist, dammit. They should have to deal with it.

But this is a company that makes its money by bringing choirs to New York. There are sensitive political matters and such.

So we can sing loud - as long as we keep our mouths shut.

9:53 PM | 18 drops of oil

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Matt hit the nail on the head the other night when he told me that he’s like a cat, while I’m like a dog.

He was talking about physical affection. Like a cat, Matt is very protective of his personal space; like a dog, I’m all Mister Cuddly and Snuggly and Kissy. Dogs paw all over you and give you wet sloppies; cats raise their hackles and tense up when you try to pet them.

It’s better than it used to be, though. Over the 16 months that Matt and I have been dating, I’ve broken down his defenses somewhat. Before me, he’d never really been big on cuddling and snuggling, but now he is. I think I’ve taught him to be more physical. Still, certain parts of his body are very ticklish, although only sometimes. When I touch him in certain places - his stomach, his legs, and, uh, elsewhere — I can never tell if I’m going to send him into spasms of laughter and flinching or not. And sometimes when I try to put my finger in his mouth (don’t ask), he clams up like a little boy who doesn’t want to eat his vegetables. (It’s actually kind of cute.)

So I’m a dog and he’s a cat. But lttle by little, I’m bring out his latent canine tendencies. Someday he’ll be drooling all over me, fetching newspapers and eating Science Diet.

Woof.

6:35 PM | 5 drops of oil

Thursday, February 24, 2005

There is some confusion between continual and continuous. I remember them this way:

Continual refers to something that happens again and again. It happens, then stops, then happens again, then stops, then happens again, etc. The word’s suffix, -al, begins with an A, which is the first letter of again.

Continuous refers to something that happens without stopping. The suffix -ous begins with an O, which is a circle, which is something that never ends.

Continual: - - - - - - - -
Continuous: ____________

- Your Friendly Neighborhood Grammarian

10:20 AM | 1 drop of oil

So, yes, the concert.

It was great to sing at Carnegie Hall. We performed in the main hall, the Stern Auditorium, which looks much smaller from the stage than it does from the seats. There are more tiers of seats than in an ordinary auditorium or theater, though. I had to tilt my neck up at a 45-degree angle to see the nosebleeds. And the way the arrangement of the singers worked out, I got to stand front row center of the chorus. (With an orchestra and conductor in front of me, of course.)

The concert itself: in Matt’s words, it was like a high school concert transplanted to Carnegie Hall. Many cameras flashed as we walked onto the stage, likely coming from parents’ cameras. And, to my annoyance, much of the audience clapped between movements, which is improper classical etiquette. (The program even said, on the same page on which it listed the name of the piece, to please withhold applause until the end.)

The performance was rather sloppy; many mistakes were made out of carelessness. One alto fell off the risers, and one bass kept crouching almost into a sitting position; he’d probably been keeping his knees locked, which makes you light-headed.

Singing with high school and college choruses was a big flashback for me. One group of guys (whether they were from high school or college, I’m not sure) had this little meme they kept doing during our only rehearsal at Carnegie Hall, this annoying little vocalized glottal-stop thing, when we were supposed to be listening to the conductor. Boys will be boys…

As for the piece we sang, Beethoven’s Mass in C: to be honest, it was kind of boring, although my opinion is probably tainted by the overall experience. Had I been more familiar and comfortable with the piece, I might have liked it more (and the same might have been true had I been singing with my own chorus). But it just doesn’t compare with, say, the Mozart Requiem, which, despite being a serious piece, is tons of fun to sing. Sometimes Beethoven is a bit too heavy for my tastes. (And yet I’m listening to MIDI files of the piece now and enjoying it.)

Anyway, it’s over, and I’m glad I had the chance both to sing in Carnegie Hall and to learn a new piece of music. It was great sight-reading training, and now I can say that I sang in Carnegie Hall.

11:15 AM | 4 drops of oil

Friday, February 25, 2005

Comparison of Beethoven’s Mass in C and Missa Solemnis. “The Mass in C… is not highly creative and is written in a static form.”

9:45 AM | Comments Off

Excellent introduction to music theory, complete with online training exercises.

This is also really comprehensive.

4:48 PM | Comments Off

Saturday, February 26, 2005

My blog pal Andy really hits it out of the park on the Jeff Gannon scandal. I’m not sure I agree that someone in the White House necessarily knew about Gannon’s gay escort sites, but everything else is dead on. Damn, can Andy write.

10:43 AM | 1 drop of oil

The Connecticut legislature is getting closer to legalizing gay civil unions. Hmm… opponents of gay marriage wouldn’t be able to rail against “activist judges” if the people’s direct representatives approved it, would they?

9:05 PM | 1 drop of oil

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Interesting NYC factoid:

According to the Department of City Planning, the population center lies in Maspeth, Queens, near the intersection of Galasso Place and 48th Street, near Maspeth Creek. The geographic center is in Bushwick, Brooklyn, on Stockholm Street between Wyckoff Avenue and St. Nicholas Avenue.

4:31 PM | 4 drops of oil

Monday, February 28, 2005

Four weeks ago I started having my weekend New York Times delivered to Matt’s apartment building, and I have yet to receive a paper without first having to call the Times’s customer care hotline, 1-800-NYTIMES. If you’re a weekend subscriber, you’re supposed to receive the Saturday paper and half of Sunday’s paper on Saturday, and the rest of the Sunday paper on Sunday. Instead, what happens at Matt’s building is that the Saturday and Sunday papers are delivered together to all the building’s subscribers on Monday morning. It’s as if the carrier isn’t even around on the weekend, which totally defeats the purpose of getting a weekend paper.

A couple of times in the last few weeks, in addition to having my complaint moved up one link in the chain of command (making me wonder if Arthur Sulzberger himself will eventually be notified), I’ve been told that a replacement newspaper will be delivered to me. The replacement clearly does not come from the carrier, because instead of a sticker with my name and address, the front page contains my apartment number written in pen. And it’s just my paper — nobody else gets replacement copies. I don’t know why the other people haven’t complained. Matt’s building is a college student apartment building, so perhaps the students’ parents arranged the subscriptions and they’re not aware of a complaint number. But part of me is actually pissed at those students for not caring that their weekend papers come on a Monday.

What happens more commonly than my getting a replacement paper delivered is that I get my account credited for that missing paper, and then I go around the corner and buy one myself. But you can’t get the advance Sunday sections on Saturday morning at a corner store.

Jeez. One wouldn’t think it would be so hard to get the New York Times delivered in LOWER MANHATTAN.

1:32 PM | 7 drops of oil