Artsy Fartsy. Obscura. Slapstick Action Comedy.

Another adventurous day in the Big Apple. This city requires a lot of walking and although I wouldn't quite say I've been feeling the burn (although I'm wishfully thinking my thighs are firming a bit) I have noticed myself breathing a little heavily after exiting those subway stations that require you to climb out of the depths of the earth. If that is not indication that I need to get going a little harder on my fitness than I don't know what it. At the very least I need to turn on my PlayStation moves that has been sitting in my living room since Christmas. I started the day off tired and groggy, which is typical, but was easily awoken by the bitch slap of mother nature via the cold winds of winter. San Franciscans really don't have shit to complain about...yes it gets cold and pelts down relentless rain once in a while and the city can get lost in fog...but still there is NOTHING like  a gust of wind down a sunless row of skyscrapers to shrink your balls (if you happen to have them) or turn your nipples into lethal weapons (even through a cashmere sweater and wool coat). So with the intensity of the cold winter morning and the raring to go attitude of my father we were off to the MoMa...

We went specifically to see the exhibit "Andy Warhol: Motion Pictures" a collection of films done by the artist in his hay day. My dad seems to have this unending interest in Mr. Warhol, I'm not sure what it stems from. Perhaps the artists relationship with the "Velvet Underground" or the fact that he became famous primarily for his duplication skills and use of neon color or maybe simply because he's a wacky character. As a child my dad got me a painting of four mickey mouses done by the artist for my bedroom in our first house. I felt hip and cool being included in this interest of my father's. As an adult I've grown somewhat weary of his art (I hope my art school friends don't throw paint on me like a house wife in fur outside ASPCA headquarters for that one) and more intrigued by his drug induced disco ways with his pals at the Silver Factory. I did pose the question to my dad "Do you think Warhol was gay, straight, bi or A-sexual?" his response was "Probably a combination of all of that" Touche.

And so the exhibit was as advertised. Primarily it was a giant room featuring multiple videos of his friends and socialite obsessions in b&w, silently doing nothing and of course he had to slow the film down as well for dramatic effect. One girl did get to brush her teeth, she was the most active and therefore captured my attention. She had an inappropriate white foam ring around her mouth but oddly no foam in her mouth which lead me to believe that this was faux toothbrushing. If it was real she would have had to spit somewhere in that 8 min and 30 sec (I know I always do ;) ). Besides this there was a film of multiple couples being shown in succession in the midst of a makeout fest. It was awkward. I prefer my kisses in the Hollywood style of things. Exciting and passionate but in 45 seconds or less, that or porno kisses which are a lot more sloppy and vulgar but still less awkward. The one that bothered me the most was this effeminate man who would pull away from his partner and then go back into his "O" face and sort of hover near her lips until he would disgustingly take them back into his mouth. I let my dad go and watch this by himself. It just didn't seem natural for us to sit next to each other in a dark, silent room and watch this nonsense together.

 After this underwhelming experience we continued to wander around the museum and ended up going through the abstract but amusing "On line: Drawing through the 20th Century" which took me out of my again tired brain and brought me into the more museum appropriate thoughtful, musing mindset that is the purpose of being a museum patron. "How do you define a line?" I again asked my father, he responded in some dictionary appropriate way. I decided it's better to leave the concept undefined because if you have a conscience thought of what a line is you are usually held more accountable for not crossing it (anyone of decent intelligence knows that when someone yells at you that YOU CROSSED THE LINE, there really isn't any more serious retort that you can come back with) and as a person who is known to be prone to belligerent and sloppy black out drunk behavior, I cannot risk that. We continued our wandering and saw some other notable art of which I have pictures I'll have to post so you readers can feel more included in the abstract experience of my afternoon. The fun came to a close at the gift shop, where all good adventures should end. It's a great place to indulge yourself in whimsical, non-budget friendly trinkets I of course pawned this off on my father (I needed a physical token to remind me of our bonding experience together) and he obliged. So now I have some fun artsy fartsy paper mobile like things that I'll toss around my apartment to the dismay of my boyfriend (he lives in a lady lair, not a man cave. But its cute and cozy, he can't disagree with that). 

Back on the subway we went to go retrieve my tween brother from his science and math based middle school (proof that we are only half genetically related). He is of the age where you only want to be left toObscura Antiques & Oddities" the shop that is featured in the Discovery Channel show "Oddities". A show that is saved on my DVR amongst hoarders, paranormal activity, Pawn Stars, etc. it fits the bill. They sell things like bloodletting kits, tools to ward off vampires, human skulls, creepily taxidermied freak animals, etc. The shop is a lot smaller than it appears on TV and it seems like they probably sell the really good stuff to the freaky fetished patrons that have big bucks. I overheard the sales person on the phone say the shop owners were out on location, however one of their clients who was featured on the show was present. I know this because A. I recognized him and B. I said hey were you the guy who was on the show looking for a sloth? He was and seemed pleased by my recognition. They had tracked down this taxidermy rarity for him (rare because its not very kind to shoot down the slowest moving and probably calmest creature of the jungle and stuff it just for fun). Oddly (sine it was so rare) they had another sloth in the shop. After my "brush with fame" I subtly asked my dad (while winking) "Did you find what you were looking for?" To which he replied in the captain obvious way "What thing...? What're you talking about?" I had to rush him out of the store, I was trying to not look like one of the many jackasses that I'm sure now go into the store to snoop around. But I acted like a jackass taking pictures out front anyways. 

After that we continued on our way to STRAND bookstore, another gem of this city. They have a basement filled with half priced books. Half of which are great literary works, half of which are crap. I play the DO judge a book by its cover game. This time regardless of what the cover looked like every time I opened the flap to read a summary of the story it was about strong female leads in dramatic, comical and spiritual adventures that bonded them to other females. I'm such a lesbian. It was either that or female authors on the subject of sex or erotica. Not something I could stick in the basket while shopping with my dad unless I want to be psycho-analyzed by a Freud theorist. Not to say I didn't make some mental notes on titles. I thought I had found a real good read when I came upon a memoir by a female comic but when I started to read about her life as a Mormon I thought no...the only Mormon author I'm willing to read is the "Twilight" novelist. We also made a pitstop in a neighboring comic book shop to pick up something for the little emo at home. It was filled to the brim with comics of course but also had a wide array of large, collectible pornographic anime figurines. I did not stick around to see the customers asking to open those cases although I know some of my boyfriends pals would be glued to the glass.


 On the way out I stopped at a street vendor's table to pick up a souvenir for the boyfriend which I told the seller. He replied by saying "If this is for your boyfriend...I'm not even gonna ask who this guy is that you're with". I told him it was my dad and heard his laughter follow me all the way down into the subway station. My dad was a young guy when I was born so he doesn't look to old, last winter while walking around Times Square I held onto his arm to avoid eating shit on the icy sidewalks and constantly heard offers to have a caricature done for the "cute couple". Perhaps I do need some therapy, Freudian or not for this among other things. 

 We topped off our evening with some family fun at "China Fun" a great place to stuff your face with fried rice and super delish sesame chicken and if you're like us play hangman on the paper table cloths. When we returned home for the evening we exchanged some belated Christmas presents. The boyfriend and I had gotten some funky, collectible toys at Kidrobot on Haight St. back in SF (they also have them in MPLS and NYC). They sell fun stuff for the young at heart. We've become collectors of the "Breakfast Yummy" keychain collections. Example:

For the kids we picked out toys from "The Heroes of Burgertown" collection. The little bro got a character named Doofus, the sis got a goofy one named Zoomboo. The joy of these little toys is that they come in mystery boxes so you're surprised with what you get.

 I got some goodies such as a couple fashion pieces I picked up at the GILT city warehouse sale (www.gilt.com) as well as a large plastic circle ring filled with tiny rainbow beads picked out by my lil sis. I find it simply precious that this little tomboy knowing that I like things of a very girlie nature picked this trinket out with me in mind. I'll be sure to save it for that special occasion that I decide to dress up like Katy Perry (so basically any night of the week I feel like cutting a rug in the Castro). 

you know for the times I dress up like this

To show my appreciation I tucked in the little love muffin with a goodnight story. 

And lastly I went to see the "Green Hornet" 3D again with the pops. I have such an affection for Seth Rogen he just has that retarded sense of humor and the dopey cute look that just makes me want to show him my tits (don't get mad boyfriend, you know every couple can talk freely about their attraction to celebrities).

 Although he sounded a lot like Grover from Sesame Street he still had his charm and could throw some decent punches. Plus in the ending credits it said he was a co-writer of the film. Pretty impressive. All in all a worthwhile watch. Movies in NYC, especially 3D cost about as much as it does to see a theatre production at a suburban playhouse in another state. But still worth it. 

Now I'm gonna go get in this bottom bunk action to slumber. Even though my little brother is in his emo phase of maturing into adulthood he sleeps like a precious baby and probably unbeknownst to his bros at school, he cuddles stuffed animals. I can rest easily down below knowing that he still has some sweet baby brother qualities left.