Archive for April, 2007

Last night at around 8:15pm, I, along with a few other Brooklyn Skeptics, decided that it was time for our weekly Sunday evening booze binge. We’re drunks. Except that in fact, I did not drink anything so I suppose I’m not a drunk. Only the days I choose to drink vodka out of my 32oz polycarbonate water bottle, do I consider myself a quasi alcoholic.

Just kidding. I can get *Liza Minelli’d from simply sniffing an open bottle of liquor. Unlike many of my fellow Brooklyn Skeptics, my alcohol tolerance does not equate to an entire keg of Keystone Light. But it’s good. It means I’m a cheap date.

Anyway, after a brief pow-wow we, the Team, decided to make our way over to Bar Reis. It’s nice at Bar Reis. A pretty tight upper level (by tight I don’t mean “off the hook,” but rather, “claustrophobic”), however the basement provides ample space (for a less than huge crowd), a pool table, jukebox, board games, couches, and an outdoor garden. Very pleasant.

Bar Reis is interesting though. There is no set standard as for the type of patronage Reises Pieces brings in. A pretty eclectic mix of people, I’d say. Here, I’ll explain: In one corner was the single guy hoarding two sets of couches as he watched a basketball game on tv, I hated him. In another corner were some hipsters celebrating a birthday, or something (whatever). In the third corner was me, and some other (Brooklyn Skeptic) people. And in the last open space, taking up both the pool table and jukebox were a group of European ladies. These ladies, these ladies were loud. And weird. While dodging their pool ques, and discotheque ready outfits (they hurt my eyes), we concluded that suddenly, we were swimming in a sea of about 10 au pairs. We surmised they were all employed through the same agency and decided to go wild on this Sunday evening, their day off. Also discussed were the prerequisites for attaining an au pair position:

1. Willingness to sleep with Hedge fund investor father.

We realized that’s probably the only prereq. But it’s a good one.

Shortly after the European invasion, we gathered our belongings and made our way over to the outdoor patio. It was nice from that point on.

In the end, I enjoy Bar Reis. Sure some of its customers aren’t familiar with American customs and blast The Pussycat Dolls from the jukebox, but I’d take loud European women over loud American hipsters any day.

*Liza Minelli’d: A term used to illustrate an incredibly drunk, well sung woman.

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New York Magazine can be counted on to cover the hard-hitting issues that affect New Yorkers most deeply. This week, in the Sex and Love issue, the magazine went the extra mile to discover how incredibly nasty New Yorkers are. There was an article about the politics of MILFhood, another about hipsters talking about their bedroom steez, and, my favorite, The Sex Diaries, wherein “regular” New Yorkers write down every sexual encounter or thought they have in one week. No wonder 40,000 people in New York have Chlamydia. I think most of those cases were personally distributed by the people profiled this week.

For the sake of full disclosure, I am of the opinion that too much sex leads to insanity, baldness, hairy palms, stuttering and dirty sheets. But I’m willing to concede that an enormous amount of fucking can be a healthy part of a balanced lifestyle. You know, just not my lifestyle. Or the lifestyle of anyone I know. And if I did know people who did what these people do, I would probably need to don a glove to shake their hands. I’m like, since when did “polyamorous” become a familiar adjective? It’s not even in my spellcheck.

So I thought I would just throw my sex diary out there. So everyone else would feel better about theirs.

The Cynical Blogger: female, 23, proletarian, Park Slope, single.

Saturday: Team of five male friends surrounded me at all times, preventing all possibility of a hook up.
Sunday: Nothing.
Monday: Watched Mets game.
Tuesday: Nothing.
Wednesday: Got groped on the subway.
Thursday: Played bocce with a very hot man, who may or may not have been part of the Aryan Underground Bocce League.
Friday: Nothing.

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I missed last night’s debate, and while I wait to try to find a transcript, I’ve got the New York Times to give me a summary. It certainly doesn’t sound like I missed much. Obama and Clinton played it cool with each other. Biden didn’t say much of anything (although, despite the number of words that come out of his mouth, he rarely does). Kucinich and Gravel were allowed to speak honestly, because they know no one is going to vote for them anyway. Edwards used the word “highfalutin.” Whoopty doo.

All the while they’re talking about the eight Democratic candidates, and I feel like someone’s missing. I’m counting each candidate I can remember on my fingers as I continue reading. And then, three quarters of the way down the page, I finally hit the sentence: “Senator Christopher J. Dodd of Connecticut also took part in the debate.” And that’s it! That’s all that was written about Dodd! Did the man say anything at all??? Did they put him in the corner of the room with some Lincoln Logs at the beginning of the debate and just tell him to keep himself busy?

I’m not going to vote for the guy, and I never was, but seriously, how come this guy gets less respect than Rodney Dangerfield?

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Take Your Child to Work.

Johnbaptisedme: Today is take your child to work day.
Recklesley: Yeah?
Johnbaptisedme: Yeah. Did you bring your kid in?
Recklesley: I’ve got too many. It would be a hassle.
Johnbaptisedme: That’s true. Especially since most of them are inbred.
Recklesley: The ones with cats for faces tend to freak people out.
Johnbaptisedme: And the ones with extra limbs.
Recklesley: Yeah. But I find baggy sweatshirts really help with that.
Johnbaptisedme: You would.

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Have you heard the news? Alec Baldwin has anger management issues. I’m not surprised. He’s related to Stephen Baldwin. Stephen Baldwin who, while a contestant on 2002’s “Celebrity Mole,” tried to strangle Kathy Griffin. (I remember the important things.)

Anyway, in case you don’t pay attention to celebrity gossip, I’ll catch you up to speed. Last week an enraged Baldwin left his daughter, Ireland, a pretty nasty voicemail. Apparently Ireland’s phone was turned off during one of their scheduled father-daughter calls, and this set Baldwin into a fuming ball of fury. (Though, straight to voicemail calls are annoying.) And this voicemail was “somehow” leaked onto the internet. I say “somehow” like “somehow” since I assume this particular v.mail leakage was no accident. No, sir. No accident, indeed. I find it hard to believe any paparazzimonger would be so interested in Basinger and Baldwin’s eleven year old daughter, that he or she would hack into her voice mailbox. In any case, I guess what’s really to be discussed here is the actual content of the ranting.

In this message, Baldwin refers to his daughter as “a rude pig,” calls Basinger a “thoughtless pain in the ass,” and threatens flying out to L.A. for one day only, the 20th, in order to “set [Ireland] straight.” I found that last threat to be legitimately scary. If I were Ireland I’d definitely think dad was going to kill me on the 20th. For Baldwin demands, “[she] better be ready for [him].” Yikes.

(Maybe this is straying off-topic, but I noticed Baldwin speaks to his daughter in an odd condemning tone, as if his daughter were an adult, perhaps an agent of his. Or something. It’s weird. I encourage you to listen for yourself, so you know exactly what I’m talking about. Or not. This audio may not be your cup of tea. Even though, apparently, it is mine. My cup of (chai) tea. Yum.)

Right. Back to the voicemail. At one point during the tirade as he is addressing Ireland’s offed cell phone irresponsibility, Baldwin yells, “I don’t care if you’re eleven or ten!” At first I (chuckled) and judged Baldwin for not knowing his own daughter’s age. But then I remembered that for the past year I thought I was a year younger than I actually was. Therefore, I decided to let this mistake slide. Also, I’m not sure naming Basinger a “thoughtless pain the ass” insinuates instability on Baldwin’s part. Seeing as how I’m sure most actors are….thoughtless pains in the ass(es). Jared Leto.

Now, I in no way condone this type of parental behavior. No parent should threaten their child like that. However, what I will say is, who knows what kind of daughter Ireland is. Maybe she’s like those kids on “The Maury Povich Show” who are forced to enroll in those military camps. Or even worse, maybe she’s a young Paris Hilton (my most hated). I mean, if my memory serves me correctly, at age eleven I’m pretty sure I was Satan. And while my parents never pulled the ol’, “you better be ready for me on the 20th” on me, who’s to say I didn’t deserve such threats. I mean besides most of the people reading this, and America in general. But seriously, (I am serious) we do not know Baldwin’s side of the story. Maybe his intent was to simply scold her, or take away her credit card. My parents were full of empty threats when I was younger. All parents are.

So, let’s not cast stones at the guy (just yet). Everyone deserves the right to defend themselves. But more importantly, it’s been about a week since I listened to the sound clip, and I honestly don’t remember much about it, aside from thinking Ireland was an interesting name. Hence, the voicemail might be a lot worse than I think. But I guess we’ll never know!

I will still watch.

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Oh man, what a massive load of shit is coming out this weekend. The big summer blockbusters are about to start, hence studios are putting out the fugliest of fuglies before they start releasing the big guys. All four of these major releases are flagrant rip-offs of previous movies, all of which are most likely better (with the exception of Premonition, which I have never seen). Hence, I am posting the poster of the more original movies below.

The Condemned – This is basically Battle Royale, but replaces students with convicts, a government run organization with an internet reality show and originality and terror with professional wrestlers and bloated action sequences. “Stone Cold” Steve Austin is trying to go from wrestler to action star. Sadly, he doesn’t have the same charm as The Rock, or the ironic sweetness of Andre the Giant.

The Invisible – Have you seen Ghost? Replace Patrick Swayze with a teenager, and edit out the steamy pottery scene, and you’ve got The Invisible. Oh yeah, and I don’t think there’s even any Whoopi-esque comic relief. I have never, nor will I ever again, describe anything as Whoopi-esque.

Next – Nicholas Cage models bad haircut number 15 in bad movie number 25. Someone tell Nicholas Cage to get a new agent, accept that he’s going bald, and call the Coen brothers, Charlie Kaufman or David Lynch. If they’ll still even talk to him. There are so many movies that look like this. Premonition, Final Destination, Minority Report, etc. I could go on.

Kickin’ It Old School – It’s weird to have to write this, but this Jamie Kennedy movie is actually the most original of the major releases this weekend. Really, he’s only copying himself. Kennedy stars as Justin, a break dancer who goes into a coma after a breaking accident during the 80’s and comes back in the present. He decides to put together a break dancing crew, and there’s a competition or something. I say he’s copying himself because this looks very similar to his last effort, Malibu’s Most Wanted, in that it’s about a pasty, dumb white guy trying to mimic black culture. Maybe throw in a dash of The Brady Bunch Movie too.

There are a few interesting movies in limited release this weekend.

Jindabyne – Laura Linney and Gabriel Byrne star in this drama about a group of men who find a young girl’s body while on a fishing trip. I’d say it’s a rip off of, I don’t know, Stand By Me. But it’s not. This is playing at the Landmark Sunshine on Houston Street.

Diggers – In a week of crap, this is my pick. Ken Marino of The State wrote and stars in this movie about clam diggers in the 1970’s. Ken Marino is my favorite cast member from the State, but I wish that the trailer for this didn’t look as cliched as it does. All the same, there were some funny bits, and at the very least I can just sit back and think of how funny The State used to be.

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Dear New York,

Please stop peeing in every nook and cranny of the New York City transit system. The scurrying rats, regular gusts of hot, moist air, piles of poo, expectorating teenagers and Bugaboos are quite enough. I don’t need the acrid stench of piss to greet me every morning like an over-eager puppy.



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On the subway on the way home tonight I read over someone’s shoulder “Cheney in Rage at Reid“. My first thought was what did that crazy girl do now?

I was imagining Cheney sitting slumped on the floor inside the oval office, despondently waiting for Tara to call after their drunken groping at McFadden’s after-hours club the night before.

creepy cheney McFadden’s Party Time

Unfortunately, it turned out to be some boring story about ‘defeatism’. Yawn.

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Oh, thank God.


I know that there was a lot of confusion about his intentions, but McCain has finally announced that he is running for president. Let the straight talk begin continue.

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