emilyrems.com

13th&5th, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

Been having dark, anxious, fucked up dreams. Last night I was back in high school and most of my fellow students were retarded. In the cafeteria, a bloated, cigar-chomping huckster and his nebishy little assistant had set up three huge scales, and they were bullying students into getting weighed, so they could then be publicly shamed into paying to join Weight Watchers. I got fished in, and they somehow convinced me to give them all my money, but after a few minutes, I realized I had made a mistake. I demanded that they give me my money back, but they kept putting me off. The World Famous *BOB* was there too, in a nifty pink ’50s -style waitress outfit, buying Weight Watchers books from the nebishy one, but she couldn’t help me. She just said “Bye Pony!” and hurried away. I was so mad at them for taking my money, and at myself for giving them my money, that smoke started to curl out of the poes in my left arm. The retarded kids could smell the smoke, and started to panic, so I tried to cover up the smoke with my hand. Sheila B from work walked by, and she tried to help me cover the smoke too, but I was just too angry, so the smoke kept finding new places to pop up.

The night before, I dreamt I was riding around Virginia with some Palestinian terrorists, and we were shooting missiles at my High School from a rocket launcher mounted in the back of their brown Datsun hatchback.

The night before that I dreamt that I was in Tel Aviv when terrorists dropped a water bomb that instantly flooded the city. All around me people were drowning, and I had to climb on top of cars and cling to bridge girders until the Israeli army could airlift me out in a Blackhawk helicopter. Once in the air I thought I was safe, but a soldier told me to hold on to him because we had to jump. I held on, and he jumped, but his parachute didn’t open so he cursed a blue streak as we plummeted towards the earth where we landed with a thud. Somehow we didn’t die, and my parents were there, and they were glad I was alive. Then I woke up.

For the past three mornings I’ve woken up sweaty and freaked out. Maybe I need an air conditioner.

Catch You Next Tuesday, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

OK, here’s how it went down. LCF and I were having a lovely stroll through the meatpacking district on our way to watch the sun set off of the Chelsea piers when I spied this enormous chandelier in the reception area of a hair salon. Since I always seem to have the most base primate reaction when confronted with huge shiny objects, I immediately started swooning over it and politely inquired at the desk if it would be OK for me to take a picture of it. The bizzatch at the counter looked at me as if I were the grimiest scum of the earth, exchanged an exasperated, too cool for skool glance with the bleachy homo beside her, and started in with the questions. “Why?” “What is it for?” Are you from out of town or something?” I just kind of shrugged and told her I thougt it was pretty so I wanted to take a picture of it, that was all. When I said this, she deeply exhaled, rolled her eyes once more at bleachy, and snottily offered to email me a picture if I really wanted one (to show my pals back in Topeka, Kansas no doubt. They’ll never believe this!!!!) I told her to forget it and turned to go, but that’s when LCF decided to break into action. Taking on an equally imperious tone to hers, he informed them that I was a VERY IMPORTANT magazine editor who had interviewed many VERY IMPORTANT and FAMOUS people, and that it would be in their best interest to let me take pictures. Suddenly Mr. and Mrs. McCunt-a-Lot were all ears, inviting me to take any pictures I wanted and besieging me with business cards. So I took this picture, but only to post on my beloved blog along with this direct account of what a sad, petty, sickening town New York can be, and to testify to how helpful it can be to have a hilarious partner in crime by my side while attempting to navigate through it. Far be it from me to start a flame war with some bougie-ass salon by naming names, but if you happen to get your hair did at a place that rhymes with “schWonderland,” than I suggest you go somewhere more better, like SuperCuts.

Apple Store, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

My computer (aka the Chicklet) refused to turn on the day before I left for Israel, and LCF couldn’t turn her on while I was away either (frigid bitch!) so we took her for a look see at the genius bar at the new Apple flagship store on 5th Ave last night. Catering to all manner of noctournal nerds, the store is open 24/7, so I thought making an appointment at 11:20 PM would be both cool and low-key. Of course, the place was a mad house, and my 11:20 appointment soon disintegrated into a 12:45 AM audince with a “genius” named Paul who plugged her in, pressed the power button, and magically made her work. Aaaaaargh! Why, God, why???? After a long trek home chock full of visits to popular early morning errand destinations like the mailbox, Hollywood Video, and of course, Duane Reade (toilet paper is a gift that keeps on giving) I finally got my sleep on, and for the fourth night in a row, dreamt of Israel. In all of my Israel dreams so far, I’m back on the tour bus with the whole gang, plus LCF, checking out the sights in an endless summer of Foreign Ministry-sponsored indulgence. When my alarm went off this morning, our guide Avinoam assured me in my dream that since LCF had missed the trip the first time around, I should keep sleeping so he could have a chance to catch up on what he missed while I was away. I could definitely see the sleepy logic in this, and happily obliged for a full hour, making me robo-late. Whatevs, I hope the dream version of LCF appreciates all I do for him.

Jaffa Sunset, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

I have, in fact, returned in one piece from Israel. Did JEW miss me??? I’m super glad that I “forced” myself to go. I had many wacky adventures in the sand, had too many fancy dinners, and ended up travelling with a totally hilarious gang of journalists I hope to hang out with more in the future. I’m completely overwhelmed with the prospect of writing about all the crazy stuff I did, so look out for the link to my narrated flickr series coming in the next few days. In the meantime, here are a scant few notes on the holy land.

1. Everyone has a cell phone. Some have two or three. These cell phones are always going off, everywhere, all the time. My favorite example of this was when a wizened old Rabbi was giving us a lecture on Kabbalah, and his shit kept blowing up every five minutes from his vest pocket with a rousing rendition of the Mexican Hat Dance. Apparently that’s the shrill-ass ring he gave his yenta wife.

2. There are wild cats running around everywhere, just like rats in NYC, only cuter. It is not at all unusual to be eating outside and feel one rubbing up against your leg begging for hummus.

3. Israel is the house that lemoade built. It’s everywhere. Every day and in every way. Lemonade.

4. You can get Absinthe, but not easily. One out of ten bars I asked for it in had it. And it was a ye olde crusty bar in Jerusalem. Yumm.

5. On the holiday of Lag Ba’omer, teens run around all night on the beach in Tel Aviv, lighting illegal bonfires which the popo try in vain to put out, and getting all frisky with each other till the break of day. See upcoming flickr page for more hormonal details.

6. One of my favorite parts of the trip happened on our first night. Our guide was reading aloud to us at a restaurant from a short story collection by our guest Etgar Keret. Just as he started to read a passage where the main character, a coroner, cut into the head of a suicide bomb victim and was surprised to find her head filled with tumors, dessert was served. The desserts were mini, individual, molten chocolate cakes, so as we were cutting into them, the character was cutting into the brain in the story. As we cut our cakes, all this goo came pouring out, just as the character discovered the tumors. It was both gross and awes.

I Belong, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

Last day of work before the big trip! Goodbye “To Do” list! Farewell devoted stapler! Magnetic paper clip holder, I hardly knew ye! Uniball pens, y’all can stow away with me, but don’t tell the others. I think it would be unwise to incite jealousy among the other anthropomorphized objects on my desk. (Especially since you KNOW the Dab ‘n’ Seal Envelope Moistener is just looking for an excuse to go postal.) Goodbye steadfast blog! I’ll miss your silent cousel, but shall endeavor to whisper sweet nothings in your virtual ear whilst on the dusty desert road. Can this entry get any gayer? I fear not. This posting is officially the gayest gay that ever gayed.

Sunset on 3rd Ave., originally uploaded by emilyrems.

Its official. The closer I get to Saturday, and my “big exciting media tour of Israel,” the more I lose my shit. Earlier in the week, LCF observed that I’ve had “lines coming out of my head” like in a Harvey Pekar comic for days. And then last night after returning from a hellish foray to Lane Bryant on an emergency capri pants run, I sat in a catatonic stupor while he fixed me lasagna, then collapsed into full-on snot blowing baby sobs when I tried to sleep. It’s not just that I don’t want to go, and that I’m super-scared of getting blown up. I’m also upset because I don’t know where my spirit of adventure has gone, so for that reason alone I feel like I have to force myself onto that plane no matter what. When I think of myself, I don’t imagine someone afraid to travel, and usually I’m not at all. But for some reason this trip is totally pushing all of my anxiety buttons at once and the only way to make it stop is to just go and get it over with. How do you say “please pass the Xanax” in Hebrew?

It Takes Commitment, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

This photo was made possible with the help of Jennigirl and, of course, Sparkle Motion. In other news, the days of rage continue on the streets of madhattan. Picture it, I’m in an elevator with a very buttoned-up lady sporting bifocals with a beaded chain, and two hottie bike messengers. As the ‘vator makes its descent, one of the messengers gets a text message. He reads it, then starts muttering with increasing intensity “You fucking cunt…you Fucking Cunt…YOU FUCKING CUNT…” Bifocal lady looks like she’s gonna choke on her chain, and hottie messenger #2 looks uncomfortable and trapped. Angry bike messenger storms out of the elevator as soon as we reach terra firma, makes a bee line for the nearest street sign (a nice big orange one that says Road Work Ahead) and starts whaling on it full force with his fist. I stick around for a few seconds to see if he’ll actually shatter his hand, then get nervous and take off to get a diet coke. Maybe going to Israel isn’t such a bad idea after all.

Motivational Advertising, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

I’ve developed a kind of weird affection for the place I’ve now dubbed “cranky corner,” aka the south-west corner of 14th and University. A boarded up construction zone anchors this intersection where Odd Job used to be, and somehow it seems to draw all the negativity in the universe into it’s embittered core. This is the corner where, last week, that guy spilled his coffee and started screaming “you’re so fucking worthless!” at the lady who had bumped into him. It is also the corner where I saw a guy almost get hit by an impatient SUV yesterday, and where today I spied this lovely piece of propaganda in the photo above. I looked all over the poster for fine print advertising something, but there was none. Seems it was just put there to be mean to all of the self-absorbed passers-by, which is kind of hilarious. On the other side of this construction wall, someone has started pasting up obituaries from the New York Times, which is also a nice bummer-enhancing addition to the whole design scheme. When I walked by on my lunch break today, the trash can across from this poster was fully on fire and was angrily belching black, foul smelling smoke into the air, as if it were a direct pipeline into the flaming torments of hell, but nobody seemed to care. If it had been on any other corner, I may have tried to alert the authorities, but on this corner, it just kind of made sense, so I let it go.

Shopsin’s, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

To every Brooklynite who mocked me with the rumor that my favorite restaurant is moving to Carroll Gardens, I can now definitively say: Nya, Nya, Nya, Nya, Nya!!!!!!!!!! Not only did the New York Times just blow up y’all’s spot, but I went and asked Zach Shopsin myself during brunch with Alison and Julia this weekend, and he said they are definitively staying put. The convo went a little something like this…

“Zach, my boss lives in Carroll Gardens and was totally shoving it in my face that you guys are moving there.”

“We’re not moving. So you can tell your boss to suck a dick.”

“Rad.”

“Now stop taking pictures. This ain’t no art gallery.”

FIN

Vandalism Rules, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

I love vandalism that rearranges an existing image to make it totally immature and snotty. My fave right now has got to be the crosswalk signals that someone has tricked out with electrical tape so the red DO NOT WALK hand is either giving the finger or throwing the goat heavy metal style. I also really like the Silent Hill movie posters of the girl with no mouth, because everywhere you go, there is a version that someone has added a weird, goofy, or pornographic mouth to. I see AM New York boxes like this one every once in a while and they always make me giggle, because it’s so grade-school-awesome to make it say “I Pee Daily.” I snapped this one while walking east on Houston to catch Brandy and her comedy partner Sara doing some hilarious sketch comedy stylings at the Parkside Lounge. Their sketch involved a multi-media slide show montage of pix of them at their pubescent best interspersed with pin up pix of their ’80s heartthrobs like Corey Haim, Jason Bateman and the entire cast of the Lost Boys, which they attempted to hump even though it put the slide show screen in extreme danger. After that whirlwind, I cabbed it over to watch Anya tear the roof off the legendary Bitter End with her band, then speed-walked swiftly and sweatily over to the Bourgeois Pig to snag a table for Alison’s birthday fondue fiesta. On my way to the pig, a cute lil’ 19-ish looking boy maneuvering a full drum set towards Astor place with his guitar toting friend complemented me on my glasses, then walked a few steps, stopped, turned, and passionately cried out, “You’re So Beautiful!” I thanked him, and blushed all kinds of colors. I was still blushing a few blocks later when I ran into the Babysitter and her friend Eva on 1st Ave. We discussed whether Eva could pass for Gloria Steinem if she sported big sunglasses, then I hoofed it to the pig where I finally collapsed into a vintage chair and let the Nina Simone, Tom Waits, and Johnny Cash tunes wash over me. Once Alison, her BFF, and LCF got there, I dove headlong into the “Ch” diet (all the most delicious foods start with the letters CH) and inhaled cherry coffee, cheese, and chocolate like it was my job. Yum Yummy Yumstein! Spring Has Sprung!

Monkey Bars, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

It’s one of the first really warm, almost summery days of the season, so the streets were swarming with life this morning. Usually these first warm days get people all excited and riled up, but not always in a good way. Case in point: as I passed Whole Foods there was a mild pedestrian collision between a corporate-looking lady and an indie rock-looking guy that resulted in the indie rock guy dropping his coffee all over the street. The lady mumbled some sort of weak apology and scurried off, but by the time she reached the intersection, the guy had gone all red-faced and was huffing and puffing and then all of a sudden he started pointing at her and screaming “You’re fucking worthless! You’re so fucking WORTHLESS!” Ahhh, I can see the city summer fun has just begun, and the tar in the streets hasn’t even started melting into our shoes yet.

ER+DJ=TLF, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

Just came back from Roadrunner where I did the most dream-a-liscious interview with…well…the rock LEGEND cuddling with me above. It was one of the most fun, fascinating, fast-paced, and inspiring interviews I’ve ever done, so I’m practically jumping out of my skin to start writing. The tape is getting transcribed right now, so I have to resist the urge to blast our conversation over the office stereo, but in the meantime, let it be known that in a world of fakey-fakesteins, this dude’s jewelry may be costume, but he’s totally the real deal and worthy of our love. Can you see the little heart-shaped bubbles floating around my head?

69 Dude!, originally uploaded by emilyrems.

My dad turned 69 on Sunday, so the mishpucha all got together at Ben’s Delicatessen in mid-town for celebration lunch. My dad and mom brought grandpa up from Va, and my dad’s cousin Libby was there from her pad in the East Village, and Lois and Aunt Bev and Uncle Stanley eased on down from the upper east, rounding out the cozy gathering of jew-a-lisciousness. We spent almost three hours at the table, gabbing and snapping pictures and passing food and gifts and newspaper clippings around the table to each other. I got kind of verklempt being there with everyone. I guess I’m just going through a homesick phase lately and missing Passover this year was really hard. Then my dad said something like, “someday we’ll think of today as the good old days…” and then I almost lost it. I’m not even PMSing, so I can’t blame this sudden flare-up of familial devotion on anything other than pure sentimentality. I dunno, I just really like ‘em I guess. Somebody stop me before I start singing “Sunrise, Sunset.”