Avoid contact with eyes

This is my little corner of the medicine cabinet. If you share a bathroom with a wife + two daughters, it’s all you’re allocated. Take a look at the two bottles in the center. Can you tell which is the Murine ear drops and which is the Bausch & Lomb Advanced Eye Relief?


Of course you can’t. They’re identical. I suppose if you were to grab the eye drops and put them in your ear, it would only result in a squishy, ineffective cleaning. But if you were to accidentally grab the ear drops and put them in your eyes, as I did, you’d have a real problem on your hands.

We were in a hurry leaving for the neighborhood Halloween party. The kids were downstairs in their costumes, ready to go. I finished getting dressed and quickly—because starring at monitors day and night is starting to make my eyes throb constantly—I grabbed the eye drops, walked to the bedroom (I, being a multi-tasker) and popped a few in my eyes. Except it wasn’t the eye drops. It was the ear drops.

It burned. And burned. And burned. Tears started streaming down my face. I rushed to the sink and feverishly started to flush my eyes out with water. Meanwhile, everyone is getting quite impatient with me because they don’t want to be late to the festivities and I’m taking so long. I tried calling out for Mrs. Wife but the words were choked in my throat.

Eventually the burning subsided. I straightened up and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was soaked and where my eyes are normally white, it was red. I looked like a vampire after a good meal. Everything looked kind of wavy.

Why in God’s name would they make the bottles so similar? Obviously, I’m at fault, but manufactures should protect people like me from myself. When my vision cleared I read the warnings and, sure enough, it said to avoid contact with eyes and flush with water if you can’t manage to do that. At least I got the remedy part right.

Cleaning out the closet

Here are a few odds and ends that can’t stand on their own as a proper post but are too good to trash.

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If you’re out for a lunchtime walkabout on a sunny day (as I was) and you head west on Spring Street, right where Soho blends into Chinatown, you might (as I did) be drawn to the sound of a table saw intermittently being turned on and off in short bursts. “A table saw outdoors in the middle of fashionable Soho?” you’ll ask yourself.

Follow the sound, and you’ll come across a Chinaman standing on the sidewalk next to some large canvas bags filled with coconuts and a table saw perched precariously on top of a metal garbage can. He’ll take a coconut out of the bag, saw the top off, drain the milk into a pail and stack the coconuts in a nice, neat pyramid.


I think I saw this in a dream sequence of a David Lynch film once except the coconuts were being decapitated by a midget. Walk around New York long enough and sooner or later you’ll stumble across something of this ilk.

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I finally succumbed to worldwide societal pressure and read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. 250 pages of back story and droll finance and then, out of nowhere, a terrible rape. I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I feel like I missed something. I have no plans to read the other two books.

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I saw this in my grocer’s freezer:


That’s disgusting, right? I don’t want to see the words “chocolate” and “taco” in such close proximity to one another. True, you can’t beat a good mole sauce, but not on tacos for chrissakes!

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Q: What do you call a man who wears a Bluetooth and takes calls while at the gym bench pressing about 175 pounds?

A: Nothing. You bite your tongue and keep your fucking mouth shut.

Here’s a little one. They’re nice, too.

I meant an art exhibit, of course. What were you thinking?

The big museums are a good place to charge your batteries but you have to pay attention to the dozens (hundreds?) of smaller galleries that dot the city. There’s lots of satisfying work being produced that doesn’t make it into the mainstream. Plus, these smaller exhibits are less of a time commitment and, hence, less exhausting. I saw this one on my lunch hour! It beat the hell out of another baloney sandwich at my desk.

In the tiny Bridge Gallery on Orchard Street just south of Delancy, the folks at SOFTlab installed CHROMAtex.me. It was a site specific installation constructed from pieces of photo glossy ink jet printed paper. The largest portal of the piece faces the street. You feel the vortex suck you in as you walk by.


Each small piece of paper is precisely color coordinated so that once constructed, it produces a smooth blend from one shade to the next.



According to SOFTlab, there are over 4,000 pieces of paper used. As you walk around the piece, you can stick your head in the various portals and get different views of the color schemes.


Guess how the piece is held together? Binder clips! The anomaly is that the first thing you see when you walk in the gallery is how the piece is constructed. Normally, such mechanics are hidden from the viewer. The chaotic texture of the exterior is in stark contrast to the smooth interior.


The piece is suspended from the ceiling by barely visible wires, giving it a floaty, weightless feeling. How cool is that?


Thanks to JZ for pointing me in this direction. And he doesn’t even live here!


An uncharacteristically bilious post but I couldn’t stop myself

Tim and Nina Zagat are New York’s premier pretentious idiots. New Yorkers who are pretentious asswipes are so devoid of any self awareness that they don’t realize they sound like pretentious asswipes.

Every Sunday, the New York Times runs a short feature called Sunday Routine. In it, someone tells how they spend their Sunday. The subjects are always fabulously successful and their day usually involves a summer house or a tony restaurant where brunches are preceded by a long wait in line unless you know the owner, which they usually do.

Today’s Sunday Routine featured Tim and Nina Zagat, founders of the wildly successful Zagat restaurant and leisure guides. Basically, they get other people to rate restaurants for them and then publish the results without compensating any of the contributors. Clever. They were interviewed at their weekend getaway home.

It starts off innocently enough. Up at 7:00 to check e-mails and the weather. Then they begin to speak that special language that you only hear in certain segments of New York society.

She: “We have local farms that have eggs, and I like to get these just wonderful local eggs.”

He: “They taste better than any of the ones you get in a big store.”

Don’t you wish you didn’t have to buy your eggs in a big store?

He: “If she does breakfast for friends…there will be wonderful eggs. Wonderful muffins, local muffins.”

Her: “It’s lovely to be at home…to prepare things that are fresh and exciting.”

Are they for real with that wonderful crap? Have you ever eaten a wonderful muffin? Are you a shiny, happy person?* This is why some people hate New Yorkers and I can’t say I blame them. How would you like to be cornered in a party by these two? Given the choice, I’d rather listen to an ex-convict tell me his life story. It’d be a hell of a lot more interesting than these two wonderful dullards.

* I use to like REM’s Shiny Happy People until I heard Alice Cooper make fun of it in an interview. He said, “Are you a shiny, happy person? I’m not.” And he’s right! It sucks!

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Best zinger from this past weekend’s batch of movie reviews. This, in reference to the preposterous sudden change from cad to caring father by the character played by Josh Duhamel in the apparently awful Life as We Know It starring the apparently insane Katherine Heigl.

Mr. Duhamel is so good-looking that female viewers may give his character the benefit of the doubt, simply out of wishful thinking.

Stephen Holden

Best zinger EVER from a move review. This, from A.O. Scott’s review of Mike Myers’ The Love Guru:

“The Love Guru” is downright anti-funny, an experience that makes you wonder if you will ever laugh again.