As proud and defiant as I am in my Manhattan Till Death stance, I readily admit to being in love with the Brooklyn-based band Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. In addition to having the coolest band name, they’re also totally unsigned (I know, I know, the “indie” thing makes me want to vomit too, but I’m giving them a fair shot) and they’ve gained uberattention solely from their local shows and internet word of mouth — I first heard about them on Gothamist. You can go to their website and download a few singles off their self-titled/self-released CD, “In This Home On Ice” is my favorite track. Not sure what the hell he’s singing but it’s upbeat and makes me wanna rollerblade across a bridge or something.

The city has been raining and thunderstorming lately. It’s all soupy, wet and windy in the late evenings. I love it.

So, UK Matt (remember him?) dropped in for a visit last month. He actually popped in as a surprise guest at my birthday party in May, I turned around and there he was looking sullen, jetlagged, and very proud of himself for pulling one over on me. I had no idea he was coming! He ended up staying with me (i.e. enduring my mood swings and cleaning up after my dog) for about a month and it was really wonderful to see him. Between my unmployment crisis and then my frantic jobhunt, I wasn’t much of a host but he was still a gracious houseguest, played a lot with my friends, and I have it on pretty good authority that he had a very good time.

No, the green sweater never comes off. Neither does the scowl.

I love Matt, my friendship with him is one of the coolest things this lame website has brought me. We got to spend some time together when I was in London earlier this year, he took me clubbing and taught me how to not get hit my cars driving on the wrong side of the street. I’ll evenutally post those pics too.

Well, they switched me to mornings and I work my first real shift alone this weekend, really excited and a little nervous. Everyone is so on point here. The other day this guy came up to the desk kinda upset, LGA cancelled his flight to Toronto due to weather and he wanted us to find another way to get him there that same night. See, this is the kind of thing @ Hudson I would have totally been able to disregard, say “You need to speak with your travel agent, sir”, and then go about the rest of my day. Not here — I watched, amazed, as my coworker assured the guest he could help, made a few calls, got some qoutes, and came up with THREE different travel options for this guy within 20 minutes. This is the standard of service I must deliver, and it’s intimidating. They setup my email and access codes, and my uniform finally came in and it’s nice. Black tee, charcoal pinstripe pants and matching jacket. Kenneth Cole. No tacky nametag (thank god), just a silver W pin on my collar. I look sort of handsome. Once my business cards come in I’ll feel more official. Right now I still feel like a guest in somebody else’s house.

I’ve been following Scott over @ Wicked Man for awhile now, stumbled onto his blog one night about a month ago. Having grown tired of my own drama, I spent 2 hours pouring through his. Very few ppl have the courage or sense to write the way he does, they (we) usually end up getting lost in trying to be sensational, whimsical, and witty — his very personal entries about his complicated life, psychotic exwife, and rowdy sexlife are simple and touching, sexy and interesting. Plus he’s damn hot. Check him out.

I hear they’re locking up Lil Kim for perjury! The judge actually sentanced her to serve “one year and a day”. There’s a lesson somewhere in that for her ass. I like Lil Kim enough, “How Many Licks…” was a damn anthem, but I can’t help but admire the poetry of it all. All that boasting and bragging about her thug life roots and shit, now she’s gonna have to go into the Big House and uphold her rep, poor thing. I’m not so sure she’s gonna do too well in prison, ya’ll. She talks a big game but if there’s not an entourage of publicists and bodygaurds around her I’m worried she might get stuffed into a big butch woman’s back pocket. Mary J. Blige, tho? would totally be fine. Mary would fuck you up. I wish Kim the best of luck, I hope she emerges from imprisonment next year smarter and more solid, with a new religion and album and reality tv series deal on the make. In the meantime, I’m going to send her a nail file and a wig, bake them in a cake or someshit, b/c beauty is important no matter where you are. I’m sure Lil Kim would agree with me. I’d remind her that telling the truth is a little more important, though.

Owning up to my own truth, I switched my gym membership to the downtown location closer to work but I’ll probably never go, and if I do? probably just to use the bathroom or get a smoothie at the juice bar. Also, the RENT trailer turns me into a teary eyed nerd everytime I see it.

UPDATE: There were a series of terrorist-related underground explosions in London Wednesday morning, July 7th. UK Matt is safe and sound, and so is his green sweater.