life goes on in SF-O

Stuffed weekend =) spent much quality time with the boyfriend, now he’s gone =( WAAHHHH anyways, went running along hudson river sat am, had a haircut in east village, hung out at washington square park and watched people
with jamie, had dinner at Oh! Taisho with jamie, then accidentally went to a brothers’ gay club "Warehouse" (not really into hip-hop, ain’t no 18 no more), ended up at Mr Black, too crowded, mike got way drunk, got home by 4am.
then got up and had lunch with norm, lucia, and wendy at
the korean block on 32nd st and 5th ave, introduced me to the 24/7 Woorijip, took the free ferry to staten island, then had NY pizza at Patsy’s NYU. i worked all day yesterday while mike hung out with friends near at prospect park in brooklyn. had dinner at the Vegetarian Dim Sum House. worked til 8pm today, went for a run just now =) lemme add some hyperlinks and random pix.

Last Thursday we went to the APT and saw Iron Chef Morimoto with his posse walking down the meat packing district. Mike yelled Morimoto! and he turned back then Mike ran away cuz he said he didn’t call him Morimoto San or Morimoto Sensei or MorimotoSama. Shame on him! I say he’s just picking out choice meat at 2am in the morning, early birds get the choicest USDA . . . or does he only use KOBE beef? We all thought he was v skinny. Alan said being on tele makes you 5 lbs fatter. Then I said to Mike, is New York like LA? Lotsa celebs on da streets? I already saw Edison and Morimoto . . . they both yellow tho!

Mike Wong is here!!!! So we had lunch together off Wall Street. I was already grouchy as hell cuz I was hungry (9 outta 10 points). We stormed into the first "Japanese" restaurant in sight and shit, DID I regret it.

Hana Japanese AND Chinese Restaurant is bad news. Usually when it says Japanese AND Chinese, you should avoid it. There are exceptions like Yuki-Hana in Chicago. But then you have to just order sushi from the menu, their Chinese food will kill you. THis Hana is underground off Nassau St. I knew something was wrong when I saw the dining room. It looked like it was pulled from a rural Ohio strip mall and was dumped right into Manhattan, no wonder it was in the basement. Before you walk into this subteranean restaurant you see clean cut well dressed businessmen and ladies with efficiently stylish haircut. After you walk down the stairs, it’s polyester suits and big hair galore. Remember Joan Cusack and Melanie Griffith’s
hair-do before MG got it on with Harrison Ford in "The Working Girl"?
Here’re some pictures to refresh your memory. This restaurant was full of women who looked like them, from 1986. Mike said they’re probably from Jersey. I say they’re from Staten Island.

Food: Please do not go here. But then if you like free-flow deep fried chowmein noodles (the snackie zitty wonton skin looking ones) with sweet and sour sauce to go with it, go ahead. They charged me $9 for an ice-cream scoop size of rice, a few pieces of gooey black bean sauce chicken, and uncooked green bell peppers. Chicken actually tasted like the frozen pressed ground chicken in a chicken breast shaped mold they sell at Costco (Price Club) in the late 80s/early 90s. Mike ordered Una-don. It was supersized (the small size) and it was below substandard. New York-ers with no taste nor taste-buds go here. It was such a mistake. Should’ve gone and tried out Sushi-a-la-Kawa . . . bad choice? We’ll see!

Justa quick one before I go to bed. OMG, I told Tom I’ve been eating shit all week. Les drove 4+ hours from DC to get a haircut in East Village while Oscar went to the Met. Along came Anisha (roomie), Steph (local NY-ker), and Oscar’s friend . . . shit, I’m 40 years old, so gimme a break.

Les called at 3:30pm Sunday when I was about to give up on her (I was in Chelsea *wink* *wink* jogging on the waterfront along Hudson River and checking out the Chelsea NewYorkSportsClub *wink* *wink* *wink*). Turned out she was getting a $50 haircut by a Japanese dude by the name of Naoki at Hair Mates. And I thought I was the only princess. I’m going to him next.

Her phone sucks, mine does too. So my SMS went ‘just tell me where and when I’ll be there.’ Oh! Taisho 7pm it is . . .was.
SMS excerpt:
"I’m here, you’re late"
"Get a table for 6"
"Fuck you, and you gave me 2 addresses, which one? huh huh huh?"
"Put our names on both!"
"Fuck you, oh there you are"
* * * SMS communication terminated * * *
"Hiiiiiiii Ooooossssccccccaaaaarrrrr =) yo Les" me said with a big smile and slaps on right face, left face and then right. With love.

Anyways, Oh! Taisho is a yakitori place where they put animal parts and some vegetables on skewers and grill the shit outta them. Yaki is grill and cook on high
heat I think, Tori is chicken or bird, something like that. But the term can be gerenalized to include chicken hearts, chicken skin, chicken livers, chicken wings, chicken meat balls, and the non-bird items such as squid legs, beef guts, beef tongue, whole smelt, BACON WITH ASPARAGUS, and the likes. Go look at the text version menu here. Very boring compared to the picture menu, but I couldn’t find one online and I didn’t take any pix. So there. I had a full bento box (Pork Ginger Tei) for $8.50 and a number of sticks. Who said food is expensive in NY? Almost bed time, no time to list all food items I consumed. Just go if and when you’re in town.

East Village is something else, well, compared to Battery "corporate slaves" Park "sleeping" City at least. I called to ask for directions, the waitress barely spoke any English. You know it’s going to be authentic. Thank the Gods, Mike was sitting in front of a computer and replaced his no-longer-can-read-text-msg-on-it cell phone. Who would’ve known St Mark’s Place is 8th St?!?!?! WTF. It’s full of all these little Japanese oasis (some native speaker tell me what the plural form is for oasis please?) like little bakery selling sandwiches made with soft white bread baked in a Pullman pan with a lid AND yakisoba "sandwiched" between (Panya Bakery); JAS grocery where I bought real Japanese imported
green tea (Ito-En) with the pretty packaging; a plethora of little Japanese restaurants; and A LOTTA STYLIE CUTE BOYS. I bet they’re all straight . . . although I’ve thought that about so and so and then . . .

Oh, and I thought I saw Edison Chen walking down St Mark’s with a girl. He’s 3-4 inches shorter than moi but Les said ‘No no no. That could not have been Edison" after blurting 100 Filipino words to Steph in 5 seconds discussing whether that was Edison or not. Oh well, he did have the evil grin *YUM*!

Time for bed *yawn*.

Saturday appeared outta nowhere. All of a sudden, I have no purpose in life, all alone and sulking. Not really.

Lucia and Norman managed not to remind me that Wendy (Norm’s blood sistah) lives in New York City until Friday (may be Thursday night), after me being in NYC for almost a week. But I don’t point fingers, did I just? I forgive both of you. ‘nuf ’bout’em. So Wendy and I met up and I said, ‘Let’s go to Goodies!’. She’s such a gentleman, picked me up from the apartment, took me to a restaurant, and walked me home no less. She accidentally brought me to J&-fracking-R!!!!! I almost fainted.

Okie, about the Chinese soup dumplings: $4.25 for a bamboo steamer of 8 pieces in NYC. Now I know why Lucia loves this place! I can eat til the soup dumplings come out of the other end with the $45 per diem. Soup dumplings were standard fare, nothing to write home about, but with that price, I am not complaining. I would probably go back! The best Xiao Lung Bao I ever had was in Arcadia CA, damn, have to do another hyperlink with all the fracking research again. I hate blogging. It’s across the street from Ding Tai Fung (I don’t think much of this place, sorry), at the strip mall at SW corner of S. Baldwin and W. Naomi, storefront is facing North. I’m not kidding, you can taste the love and care that was put into each one of these little soup pouches. Ding Tai Fung is a freaking factory. I did not taste any love.

We ordered 4 items total: Scallion pancakes, steamed chives, pork and shrimp dumplings (you can forget this one if you’ve been to San Tung on Irving St in San Francisco, look it up yourself), pickled cabbage and shredded pork soup with HOMEMADE noodles. I must confess that I ate 2 pounds of chocolate and a dozen of hardboiled eggs right after work and before dinner so I was not performing. It was a first date afterall!!!!! Noodles were pretty good, they were shredded by hand with a knife, not pulled. I’m a Chinese princess, I can tell. Seriously, I cannot even fall asleep when there’s even a sesame under the mattress. Do not question me. Total was $20!!!! OMG!!!

After dinner (this blog is gonna be LLLLOOOONNNNGGGG), Wendy took me to The Original Chinatown Ice Cream Factory where she claimed that lobster flavor ice-cream was served last time she was there!!!! I went up to one of the ice-cream scooping ladies and asked in perfect Cantonese, ‘Do you have bacon flavor ice-cream?’. She answered with a smile, ‘I’m afraid not. But our wasabi and rice flavor is the special of the day!’. I mean, eeewwwww. I puked all over her face with half digested soup dumplings. It was almost a perfectly parabolic projectile curve. So I settled with green tea and mango. Wendy was trying to persuade me to try durian flavor but she hesitated because she wanted to save her own face from . . . Those of you living in San Francisco please go try Marco Polo gelato in the Sunset. Evelyn said she’s never been. WTF. They also have durian flavor, eeeewwwwww. And that’s only Friday night. Shit.

I woke up at noon on Saturday . . . I dunno what happened. Was it Lunesta or Ambien I took last night? Hmmmmmm . . . Quick, quick, finish the blog so I can contemplate about going out tonight.

Went for a run down Battery Park, lotsa tourists. I brushed past them (I’m a New Yawker now!) like they don’t exist. Some got annoyed cuz I was too close to them and was moving too fast. Saw the Staten Island ferry, pretty, and I heard it’s free. I’ll go on it some weekend to see the Statue and go to the closest Hollister (yes, the closest one is at Staten Island Mall, damn). Did I say it was raining? I felt like a pro running goddess, all tough and butch running in the rain. So committed. Saw a couple of cute running boys under FDR drive on the East side . . . they were doing sprinting exercises . . . Got back to the apt and brought the 15 lb of laundry to the Korean guy. Came back and realized I gave him all my workout clothes!!!!! AAARRGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

So what’s a girl to do when she needs cheap workout clothings? Old Navy!!! Or H&M. But H&M did not pop into my mind until after I bought everything. SOHO here I come. Yes I know, but the closest Old Navy is kinda in the SOHO area. You don’t expect me to buy shit from Prada to run in eh? Though Prada and Hurley did collaborate on some very nice snowboard gear once . . . nah, can’t afford it. Or was it Burton . . .

Revelation of the day #1: Old Navy boys size 14/XL is the same size as A&F small, YAY! And they cost even less!!! $5 muscle-Ts and $9.5 nylon workout shorts! I bought some white ones. They’re revealing and a tiny little bit tight at the crotch and crack, but I’m in that phase. Bite me.

Revelation of the day #2: Teenage boys in SOHO are stylie! Shit that came outta their mouths: One 16 y.o. boy to another 16 y.o. boy (one dressed in a tight white plain t-shirt and a John Varvatos look-a-like black fitted sports jacket, pair o low rise dark fatigued boot-cut denim that’s not from Old Navy, with a dark brown pair o PUMA; one dressed in a suede beige hoodie with tiny little Gs all over it, white jeans and pastel color ASICS . . . did I say it was raining?), ‘See, that’s where the Chanel store is, come on’. Voices high-pitched as hell. My gaydar told me they’re metros, not homos. One level up from William (Ask a Gay Man on YOUTUBE.com) who works and shops at the fracking Gap. Puh-lease.

Revelation of the day #3:
Guess what store this is? Even this store dressed up for SOHO!
(answer at the bottom of the blog)

Next stop: Sullivan St Bakery. I did not get lost in the subway today. I found the
right line, the
right number, the right direction, and the right stop. So Sullivan is
in Hell’s Kitchen, W 47th and 10th ave. They supply Italian bread to
many of the expensive restaurants in NYC. You can also buy them at
Whole Foods and Dean & Deluca. I bought a loaf of Pane Puglise (eating it now), a little piece of ciabata, and fracking 3 slices of pizza. The pizza funghi has thin slices of cremini mushrooms, onion, and some giant pieces of sea salt crystal on them. The sea salt did melt on contact.

Quite acceptable. The pizza zuchinni tho is a whole new world. Super sharp Asiago cheese on top of julienned zuchinni on a paper-thin piece of dough, perfect from the first bite to the last.  Within the 2mm of thickness, bottom 1mm was crisp, top 1mm was moist. It was magical. Hmmmm I have 2 more pictures. Where do I put them? They are of the bread rack and the kitchen/factory area. Sorry about the design of the layout. I’m not
a pro . . . I can hardly tell the difference between

Helvetica and Arial. Ching and Mike are gonna
trash me shitless. I did take all these pictures
myself. They are not from images.google.com.
OK!?!?!?!? *whew* finally got to the bottom of the pix. I will sure have to go back and check out the neighborhood and the boys at a later time. Houston said (Johnnie said) Hell’s Kitchen is the new Chelsea. I walked from 47th to 42th to catch the E home but then I realized I was very close to Times Square, so what the hell, I’ll just get it over with.

Three words: ANGRY BITCHES and UMBRELLAS. Did I mention it was raining? Did I mention it was crwded? Big billboards, big TV screens, yeah yeah, hi hi, byebye.

Answer: PAYLESS in SOHO!

Just had the idea of blogging my life in NYC. I started emailing people at work first day and it snowballed into a full-time job. So here I am trying out Friendster’s blog.  If you want to read my previous blogs that I posted years ago, here they are:
http://yanjai.livejournal.com/

FIrst off, Lucia asked me to post pix of the apartment. You can see them here:
http://danieltsao.blogs.friendster.com/photos/ny_apartment/
Oh wait, a little background info would be helpful for those of you who do not know: Been sent to NYC to work on the Gucci New York Flagship store, thanks to Tom Owens, Barry Bourbon, Kathleen Jordan for putting their trust in me, and my mom and dad, for giving birth to a son who does not hesitate to kiss ass in multiple angles and positions AND pull things outta my behind as needed and as required. Nellie said some of the things I pulled outta my ass throughout the years were actually quite useful at times. Anyways, I’m supposed to learn the basics, take the protoype, and finish one in Palm Desert CA . . . before I leave NYC by the end of July. They put me up at 99 Battery Place. It’s decent and clean but the best feature is the "concierge". The dry cleaning place delivers to the reception. The doorman, simply by recognizing my chinkish face, passes the wash&fold and dry cleaning onto my tired hands when I come back from work late at night, usually past midnight. I work hard ya know, so they’d think I’m worth the money. The picture is too big, I don’t wanna write much about the place anymore but I have 2 more lines. BUGGER. AND I’m getting tired. I should write about the first day (night) first.

So I got to the airport by 10:30pm Saturday night thinking I’m the plan ahead goddess. I even made a Supershuttle reservation before I left SF, way in advance. It’s only $23. Cheapest and easiest way to get outta the airport and get sent to the door of my apt. NOT. The operator told me to go fuck myself, sit on the curb, and wait for rescue , I meant, wait for 20 min outside. There will be a Supershuttle going near Battery Plark City (South tip of Manhattan) eventually. Well, I waited for 30 minutes without smoking. There were close to 20 cigarettes lit around me during that time. None of the Supershuttles was going remotely close to where I wanted to go. They’re all going to "Midtown", the land of humans. Apparently, nobody lives near where I am living now. So after 45 minutes, I got on my knees, wrapped my arms around one of the nicer looking Supershuttle driver’s leg, and begged him to drive me. He obliged, well, after dropping 6 other people off all over Manhattan. There was this white, Caucasion, girl with no money on her (Upper Eastside); there was this yellow, Asian, dude from Toronto who would not stopped talking about how familiar he is with NY, how nobody expects you to be polite in NY (East Village); there’s this old lady, she’s fine, can’t really trash her (West 103rd st); there’s this older dude who was the ultimate backseat Supershuttle driver . . . by the time the real Jamaican driver asked me if I knew where I was going (cuz he had no idea where 99 Battery Place was . .. is), I was asleep. It was close to 2am. Great tour, eh? I even knew about FDR drive and the historic giant PEPSI COLA neon sign before I got off the van. Very useful information. So we looked at the map together and we found the place. It’s right by the water and almost directly connected to Battery Park and the running/biking trail. YAY!

This is day one May 12, 2007 evening May 13, 2007 morning. I was so tired and pissed but guess what was waiting for me in the freezer and fridge to cheer me up???? A pack of Dunhill and a 6 pack o Corona. Talk about going out of the way to accumulate good karma. My eyes were all watery at an instance. This is what Data and Seven-of-Nine were looking for all their lives - humanity. I bless whoever was staying here before me with all my un-filtered love. Amen.