A little long, but worth it. Really pretty social experiment about chairs.
Blu Dot Real Good Experiment from Real Good Chair on Vimeo.
Read MoreTag "culture"
I hate to iron. It is a mindless, numbing activity. And a whole friggin’ to-do. You lug the ironing board out, fill the thing up with water, straighten out the shirt, detect the wrinkles, make sure there are no creases, iron and repeat. Multiple times. I could be spending that time washing dishes. It’s dangerous too! This heavy appliance is inches away from linens and skin with only one purpose… get really, really hot.
Why do we do it? Why can’t I walk around in wrinkled pants? Who says a pressed shirt is stylish or put-together? I’ll tell you who: Big Iron. This entire pro-pressed sentiment is all a racket put forth by the marketeers of Big Iron to sell more irons. I think it stinks, and I don’t like it.
I will make one point. There is a certain purification I get from ironing out those wrinkles. Watching them melt away somehow makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something, however menial. At least as much as I can accomplish while standing in the middle of my apartment in my underwear, listening to REO Speedwagon. (You don’t spin “Keep On Loving You” when YOU’RE ironing?) So I suppose ironing has an oddly cathartic component. Add in the danger and you have something to talk about. I just don’t think the ends justify the means.
Nearly four years ago, on the very first day of work, I was ironing. It was a new me. I was going to press my clothes. In a moment of distraction however, my forearm decided it wanted to get to really know that iron. What my forearm didn’t know is that irons are extremely racist toward skin. Actually, the tip of an iron looks like a Klansman’s hood. A painful, bright purple welt immediately showed up. As an added bonus, because of the confusion from burning myself, I forgot to zip up my fly. So I had a smoldering forearm and an unzipped fly on my first day of work. Awesome! What a disaster. Maybe not- I’m still here. And all my clothes are wrinkled.
http://www.outnext.com/on/2009/04/the-iron-of-the-future.html
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It’s really unfortunate when you get in an elevator that stinks from the person who was just in it. Really stinks badly. There’s nowhere to hide. You’re in a little box on a string. You just have to endure until you reach your floor. When you arrive at your destination, someone else is waiting to get on. You do your best to get off without making eye contact. Your gut is telling you to turn around and say, “That wasn’t me!” But you stop yourself because you’d be breaking some cultural convention by discussing farts with a complete stranger. Instead you run for it. That woman thinks you just farted in the elevator and there’s nothing you can really do about it. Guilty of a crime you didn’t commit because you happen to make a living on the 19th floor.
Luckily for you, the cycle continues until the smell dissipates. So in the end, everyone’s judging everyone. It all works out.
Then you go home and blog about farts.
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I knew this day would come. I’d been dreading it for years. But today, it finally happened. Today… I misjudged the revolving door in the lobby of my office.
I had stepped out for a hot lunch, some sunlight, and an hour of much needed me time. Getting back to work, a woman was coming the other way as I was re-entering the building. I saw her through the glass, thought I could make it, and went for it. Smash. I got slammed between the partition and the side of the revolving door enclosure. It didn’t hurt, but it sure looked foolish. Like something akin to when the Coyote fails to catch the Roadrunner. Years of living dangerously flashed before my eyes. I’ve had near-misses before, some a little too close. But every time I prevailed. Seamlessly entering the building as someone else was leaving. Kind of pretty actually. A time-tested apparatus of civil engineering. Not today though. The woman who squashed me felt bad too. She apparently did not see the little dilemma that was going on in my head prior to our encounter. The contemplation. Should I attempt this? She smiled and gave me a sincere “I’m so sorry”; muffled from the other side of the glass.
To which I smiled back with a wave and said, “My fault.”
Will this effect my carefree attitude toward revolving doors? Will this make me stop and think twice before attempting a stunt like this again. Highly doubtful. I’ve got places to be man. This is New York City. I can’t wait for people. I just wish this was a metaphorical revolving door we were talking about. But alas it is not. I really got crushed by a door.
Speaking of revolving doors, I’ve been talking about this for years. Put a generator at the top of a rotating door to create energy every time someone walks through it. Seems like a no-brainer to me. Well someone finally did it.
I resisted this show for as long as I could. I was offended by the concept, not only as an Italian, but as someone from Jersey who’s spent many summers on the Jersey Shore. Monday, on MLK Day, I did what any regular white guy with a lot of time on his hands would do… I watched a marathon of this glorious train wreck, catching up just in time for the finale this passed thursday. And I came to the simple conclusion that this show is amazing television. Some of the best reality TV I’ve seen since The Osbournes. (I don’t watch much reality tv). It’s easy to tell why Jersey Shore is such a megahit. It’s got incredible characters and hilarious situations. (< - see what i did there?)
I'm converted. And after watching the terribly produced reunion show, I'm pretty sure the show is scripted. Which I don't mind in the least.
I’m kind of mesmerized by the whole late night drama going on right now. While I’m firmly planted on Team Conan, I don’t really fault Leno for this mess. Either way, it’s been comic gold. Here’s my solution. Local news -10:30, Leno – 11, Conan’s Tonight Show at 11:30. Everyone wins. NBC will get a leg up with early news. Leno gets a show. Conan gets the tonight show at 11:30. It could work!
Speaking of mesmerized, say what you will about his interview style, but I’ve always been a fan of Charlie Rose’s black background.
Hear what Jeff Zucker has to say. Straight from the horse’s mouth.
Read MoreI really appreciate the Spanish language for warning someone how to properly deliver a phrase. The leading, upside-down, exclamation mark in ¡Feliz Navidad! warns the reader that this is going to be an exclamation! Read with enthusiasm! As far as I know, Spanish is the only language that does this with designated characters. As far as I know. ¡Thanks Spanish!
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When I got home last night, there was a $20 bill taped to the front door of my apartment building. No note. Nothing. Is this some sort of social experiment? Are there cameras somewhere? Tape rolling? I felt like I was being watched. I didn’t take it. It felt dirty. Perhaps there was something wrong with the money? All sorts of things going through my mind. Clearly, it wasn’t my money to take, but that shouldn’t have stopped me. Why would someone just tape money to a door in Brooklyn? It’s almost a sin not to take it. Nope, I looked at it for a few seconds, looked around, and went inside. Wondering.
When I was in fourth grade, I rode the school bus home. One afternoon, we had just let some kids out and I happen to be staring out the window. Miraculously, among a pile of leaves, I spotted a crisp bill. I couldn’t make out how much it was, but I got very giddy inside. I made up my mind at that moment. As soon as I got home I was going to hop on my bike and come claim that thing. There were people in the driveway of the house where this bill lay in front of. Had to make haste in order to get the reward. I couldn’t think of anything else the rest of the way home. That money was mine. 10 minutes later I got home, threw down my backpack in the garage and grabbed my BMX. I was pedaling with a purpose. Up and down the hilly back roads of Livingston, NJ. That money was mine. It was a late fall afternoon so there were leaves everywhere. It was cold. The images and smells are still vivid in my mind. Never had I found money before. When I got there, people were still outside. I pretended to have issues with my sneakers. Even then I was scheming. That cash was still there. And it was a $20! I couldn’t believe it. I don’t remember what I did with that money. It was fourth grade and I was just coming into my own. I had my first girlfriend. Sweet Lauren Kepniss. Maybe I went out and bought her some cheap jewelry. I had just started taking drum lessons. I thought Poison was the shit. I may have gone to Sam Goody and bought a Def Leppard tape. I don’t know. But I remember that cash as clear as day.
As I left my apartment this morning, the bill was still taped to the front door. This was a chance to inspect it in daylight. The money was fake. It had writing on it that read, “No Jews.”
It was a social experiment whether the fool that posted it knows it or not. I live next to a bodega. I have many neighbors. There were tons of eyeballs on that thing. But that bill stayed there for at least half a day without one person ripping it down. I try to always give people the benefit of the doubt, but sometimes they make me rethink that policy.
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It is time for an alternative to toilet paper. Too many trees have perished for us to wipe our filthy asses. The thought hit me on New Year’s Day. Seemed like it was a time for new beginnings. I wouldn’t have such a problem if toilet paper were recyclable. But that’s simply not an option. The only substitutes I’ve come up with in the past 10 months are the bidet and the three sea shells that confound Sylvester Stallone in Demolition Man.
Since we live in a world where Sly is merely an actor and not a super-cop, unfrozen through time to rid the world of Wesley Snipes, I guess we look to the bidet. A water fountain for your anus. How effective is this contraption at cleaning house? Can bidets be more than just an occasional luxury? Why aren’t more people using this green tech?
Bidets are exotic to most Americans, but a common fixture around the world. Though generally seen as a European indulgence, Koreans are into bidets too. In fact, they landed on combination toilet/bidets. These combo machines appear in approximately 60% of South Korean households. I’ve never heard a Korean complain either. I have to assume toilet/bidets are working just fine for their asses. And why not? A stream of water is exponentially more effective than dry paper. But without speaking to an honest to god Korean, I don’t know how it all goes down. If you’re Korean, please jump in. Do these exist in public spaces? You have to dry off… Are there public ass-towels in Korea? If we’re using paper towels to dry off, that would defeat the purpose of the bidet in the first place, so I can’t buy that. Maybe a motion-activated hair dryer for your fanny? A ha! Cool breeze of course.
I’ve done some research. Combo toilet/bidets go for about $3000 on the interwebs. Contrast that to an ordinary throne which goes for about $200. (This may be shocking to you as most of us never have to buy a toilet. Mostly a line-item on a contractor’s bill.) Clearly we have a price gap. What is driving the price of toilet/bidet combos up? I refuse to believe the higher price point is strictly due to manufacturing costs, but rather the perceived opulence of- what is essentially a water fountain for little people.
Perception is a very powerful barrier to entry. A distinct marketing problem. You will need the marketing power of an Apple, Inc. or a Nike to change people’s perception on latrines. Bidet’s are not just for the rich. OR just for the little people. Bidet’s are for your ass. The tech is centuries old and has current real world applications. Just do it.
There is a grander problem though; infrastructure. How do you get stubborn Americans to change the way they wipe their asses? No small task when dealing with a clique that, for all it’s marvels, is still surprisingly prude. Furthermore, how do you outfit bathrooms with a bidet when most are designed to only accommodate one porcelain appliance? This makes the combo toilet/bidet very appealing. Especially when more and more people are willing to pay a premium with the planet in mind. The less you inconvenience them the better. They already have monstrosities like the combo toilet/washing machine above. Why not an inconspicuous little bidet?
A change of considerable magnitude is going to have to take place in people’s minds if we are going to accept a cool and awkwardly refreshing rinse-off as a weapon against global warming.
Now if I can just convince America to switch to the metric system…
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