I never win

Technology and I have a love-hate relationship. We always battle. I always lose.

For the past two and a half years I have had the worst laptop ever known to mankind. It´s huge, slow (that´s an understatement) and the keyboard is in Spanish. How many times have I used the letter Ñ in the past year? Once. This once.

Thankfully Robi decided to really embrace the Christmas spirit this year and bought me a new Mac. Thanks Robs!

For two whole days your daughter oozed coolness.

But then my blackberry died—(R.I.P. my loyal addiction)—so I´ve been waking up alone (my blackberry slept in my hand) and my right thumb has been gaining weight.

If you think I´m sad for my loss, you should have seen my friends´ faces when I told them I wouldn´t have a blackberry until February. It was as if I had told them I was going to live without a limb for the next three months.

“What Lau?!” they said. Their faces were stun with confusion. “But how will we communicate with you?” You know where I live and face-to-face interaction never hurt anyone. Of course that was my “I´m strong, I don´t need a blackberry” attitude. Really, on the inside I was crying like a child. One who´s favorite doll fell on the street on a rainy day and got squashed by a cab. (True story. It took me 16 years to be able to share it with anyone.)

So I decide I needed a phone, any phone. The cheapest one at AT&T was an old-school black Nokia. You know, one of those that were popular back in the day. Say, circa late 1990´s when the first cell phones came out, Y2K became a household name and the world was possibly coming to an end. Why do you think I was praying so much in 99?

Anyway, back to my new Nokia.

Circa 1990´s Nokia, my ass. This phone has color screen and you can access the internet. Most importantly, you can play Snake on it. Beat that.

So I´m happy, but God forbid Chloe let´s this one slide. She had to post this New York Times article in my facebook wall.

Not cool Tins. There I was thinking I was so cool and unique, when really, once again technology slapped me in my face.

Bingo

This was my last story for my journalism class. I think the subject really defines one of the many aspects of the downtown scene. Thought I share it with you...

Every Monday night, The Bowery Poetry Club is packed with hipsters, foreigners with heavy accents and students. They come together on this trendy block to indulge in an exciting game of… Bingo.

The crowd is lured into Bingo Night by hosts Murray Hill, one of the top names in the downtown comedy showbiz, and famous Big Apple drag queen Linda Simpson. They keep the audience entertained by telling jokes that get raunchier by the minute.

To start off the night, Hill compares his oval shape pen holder to a pickle. Then to a butt plug. And finally to a pickle look-alike penis.

Bingo players laugh hysterically.

Forget about the stereotypes. This game of chance isn’t just popular among senior citizens at Florida retirement homes or charity fund-raisers. Bingo is the cool thing to do these days in the Manhattan neighborhood of Noho.

“I’m proud of the mixed audiences we get and that people mingle over bingo boards,” said Hill. “The energy is always great, and no matter who you are, everyone needs a good laugh.”

The event at 308 Bowery is creating a network of regulars like Dana Sacco.

“I like the energy,” said Sacco a medical resident who graduated from NYU. “I like that everyone gets excited and no one really cares too much about the prize. They care about hanging out together.”

Sacco won her first prize last Monday night—a round mirror with a picture of the Last Supper that radiates multi-coloured lights when plugged in. Other kitschy prizes included a battery-operated wooden parrot that repeats everything you say, a Hannah Montana puzzle, a light saber and four free drinks.

Those drinks, however, came with a challenge. The winner had to stand naked on stage with only one prop to cover any part of his body—a tiny plate. Once the challenge was completed, the brave player got the free drinks.

The crowd went wild.

An unexpected twist to a regular Bingo game. The only thing that remains the same at Bingo Night is the way it is played. Your fate is based on a card that displays a total of 25 numbers, arranged horizontally and vertically over five columns. The word BINGO is on the top corresponding to each row. The host calls out numbers at random and if the player finds that number on the card, it must be crossed out. Once an entire row, in either direction, has been covered the player must yell “BINGO!” The card is checked by the host to prove accuracy. If it turns out not to be accurate the round continues.

Bingo in the U.S. has become increasingly popular especially in the online gaming community. Websites such as www.bingozone.com, and www.playlivebingo.com host Bingo competitions as well. However, none are as lively or as unexpected as Bingo at The Bowery Poetry Club.

“I came in not knowing anything,” said Daniel Lloyd, 23, who was there to celebrate a friend’s birthday and was happy to win the light saber. “Expectations were exceeded. I loved it!”

New prizes are showcased every week. But there is one prize that never changes. The final prize given out each Monday night is the money that has been collected from selling the $2 Bingo cards. It usually adds up to more than $100. To win, you must cover every single number on your Bingo card.

Monday Bingo Night runs from 7:30 to 10 p.m. Alcohol runs steady all night. By the third round of the game voices yelling out “Bingo!” slowly become more confident. The crowd gets increasingly excited as the jokes become more vulgar. Apparently a male dolphin ejaculates at 75 mph, according to Murray Hill.

Next prize? A small toy dolphin.

“I loved it and I’m definitely going to bring people over,” said Katie Parrish, 20, originally from Melbourne Australia. Parrish, who moved to Brooklyn two months ago, was one of the few players who came to Bingo night by herself. By the end of the night, Parrish had made friends with a French guy sitting beside her. Bingo!

Setting the Record Straight

I have been clearly lying to you. This blog is not about things going on below 14th street, this blog is about me. About things that happen to me, about things I think and things I care about.

This blog started out as an assignment for my journalism class. It was a requirement to have some sort of theme tying the posts together. I thought reporting about downtown Manhattan would be a good idea. After all, if there´s anywhere in the world that you can find a good story it´s below 14th street. And considering my readers are mostly my friends (you better be reading this) I figured downtown provides stories that suffice all of YOUR interests. How thoughtful of me.

But class is over and the truth is that I do not want to stop blogging. But also I find that focusing only on one area limits my options. So I have decided that, although I´m keeping the same name, the stories are going to by about anything.

Most of the posts will still focus in this area of Manhattan because…well, because I live here. And because downtown Manhattan is inspiring. But if you see other themes don´t be surprised.

To start this new blogging phase I thought I would link you to another blog I have written for this semester--- http://www.idontlikemondays.us/blog.html. The blog is part of an online fashion boutique that carries new designers and has AWESOME clothes. Most of the posts are about alternative cultural events. It´s different and I think it´s cool. You should seriously check it out.

........

Hm, weird post.

Let´s go back in time

As a 21-year-old student originally from Colombia, I thought for sure it was too late to ever experience the political energy that took place in the U.S. during the ‘60s. But then I discovered Yippie Café, a coffee shop that makes me feel like I didn’t completely miss that determinative decade after all.

Stepping through the dented metal front door of this hangout at 9 Bleecker St. is like going into a time machine. I can sit on vintage leather couches with a couple of gray-haired coffee drinkers, reading magazines that date back to 1977, humming along to the Beatles and Paul Simon songs that fill the air.

The prices on the menu feel like a throwback to an earlier time too. A cup of free-trade, organic Guatemalan coffee costs 75 cents. It’s also possible to get just about any tea combination you can think of for $1.75. The chai and cinnamon tea blend won me over. And the bagel -- with the exact amount of cream cheese I had asked for and no more -- was delicious. Also, a pretty good deal considering I only paid $2.50 for the bagel.

You can also find butter croissants for $1.50 and mouth-watering blueberry muffins for $2. However, for those looking to stay off carbs and caffeine, the options are varied too. Natural juices, promoted as “high health” drinks, are very popular. You can create your own blend of apple, lemon, ginger, beet, carrot or spinach juice. Sizes vary between 8ounces for $3 and 16ounces for $5.

Not surprisingly, these bargains are attracting a new clientele -- college students who come to Yippie Café looking for low prices, free Wifi good music – and a great alternative to the usual Starbucks and Think Coffee.

This 36-year-old hangout only became a café in 2007, according to café management. Before that, it was a meeting place for yippies, members of the politically-driven Youth International Movement which was established in 1967. Yippies were active in the anti-war movement and supported the legalization of marijuana. There is still an 8-foot cannabis leaf painting that decorates one of the coffee shop’s walls.

Today, activism has given way to reminiscing. Yippies come not just for the food but for conversation with old friends. Eavesdrop on the older customers, and you’ll hear phrases like “the great ´60s,” “a time when New York was affordable” and “the great minds who stepped into this place.”

“It´s hard to get a bunch of yippies out of this place,” said self-proclaimed New York yippie, Paul DeRienzo.

Tucked in this quiet residential block, Yippie Cafe has remained unscathed by the area's transformation into a trendy, new neighborhood of 2009 prices and scrawny hipsters plugged into their iPods. But when I step through those dented metal front doors, I am confident when I say this: I would have enjoyed living in the 1960´s. Perhaps, even being a Yippie.

My Thanksgiving

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, a holiday I do not celebrate, I´ve decided to honor you with a feast. A feast of my ranting thoughts that is (as horrendously corny as that sounds) because the same way I do not celebrate this holiday (call me a Grinch, today I´m being one) I am in no mood to cook.

According to Wikipedia, “The first Thanksgiving feast lasted three days providing enough food for 53 pilgrims and 90 Indians."

Three days of feasting and enough food for 143 people--that´s a party in my book. Plus 90 of the attending guests were semi-naked, so things may or may not have gotten wild. So how did we go from party to family reunion? Way to kill what could have been an awesome holiday.

It would still be fun however, if you have a family of drinkers. Thanksgiving with my family, would consist of an alcohol-loaded night, cracking jokes (most content is not adequate to be published in this blog) and dancing to our old school anthem-- Daddy Cool. Aguardiente, a liquorish-based Colombian drink, would have been rolling around the table if it were up to my uncle to decide. I personally would have preferred some gin and tonic. Point is turkey and gravy would not have been the main part of night.

But since my family does not celebrate Thanksgiving and I´m feeling bitter today I´m going to ignore what could be a great night chez Vo. However, since I am taking the time to write this and tomorrow is not only about the food but also about giving thanks, I guess I should name a lucky few-- my mom, my dad, my roommie, blah blah. My landlord who fixed the leak after maybe the 100th time we threaten to break our lease; Remy, our mouse, for finally moving into our neighbors´ apartment and leaving us alone. I guess I should double thank the restaurant downstairs of my apartment building for 1. Always making sure my room smells like garlic and 2. Keeping their doors open late enough that I can go to bed at 1 a.m. on a Monday and still listen to people´s conversations downstairs. Thank you all!

Yes you guessed it, at the moment I´m sitting alone in my apartment. I´m bored out of my mind. Chlo left me (LEFT ME!) to go see her bf in Montreal and it´s raining outside and Caro, my friend who´s coming to visit, is stuck in traffic and I´m starving. No I do not want turkey or gravy or mash potatoes. Sleeping pills, however, are more than welcome.

On that note, Happy Holidays!

Art tells a story...?

I just got back from Terence Koh´s art show in Tompkins Square Park. I´m still deciding what my reaction is towards the exhibit. I guess I just find it hard to give a significant value to art when the idea behind it is so conceptual. Koh dressed people in white fabrics and completely covered their faces with white paint and their hair with white baby powder. It was a procession that began in Tompkins Square and made its way through Avenue B until 13th street where they walked west until a bar called Phoenix.

The show was basically a line of walking ghosts who didn´t speak or make eye contact with other people. A lot of spectators began in the park and a few others joined the procession as we walked by. After the show when my friend interviewed the artist I realized that the whole procession was in memory of the riots that occurred in Tompkins Square in 1991. City officials forced 200 homeless people out of the park. Knowing this definitely legitimized the entire art show. Being in a park at 7 p.m. with random people, following a crowd of people dressed in white suddenly made more sense. Kind off.

Below are a few pictures of the show…

If you want to know more about the artist and his future shows visit his website: http://www.asianpunkboy.com

Not South of the Border

When a Mexican tells me she has found the best taco eatery in Manhattan, I believe her. MJ, my Mexican friend was the one who told me about Pinche Taqueria, “a genuine Mexican eatery in the Big Apple,” she said. Enough said. Mexican cuisine is at the top of my book. Guacamole is my ultimate weakness, I like all things spicy and beans (pronounced beanzz) is my favorite word.

On Tuesday afternoon, after a morning of mouth-watering thoughts about Mexican food, I made my way down to 277 Mott St. Besides the construction site, Pinche Taqueria is hard to miss. It´s the only locale in the block that has Christmas lights hanging on its façade all year long.

In it´s rustic exterior there is a sign advertising Pinche Taqueria as the winner of the 2008 Citysearch Editors Pick of Cheap Eats. By this point I was sold.

As soon as I walked inside I liked it. Decoration is minimal in comparison to other Mexican restaurants in the city. It makes it unique. The squalid corridor with red walls and wooden tables and chairs give it a cozy feel. Mexican rancheras are playing in the background and occasional champeta beats—a variation of the popular reggaeton— seem to excite the customers. The staff is made up of one waiter, one cook, a delivery boy and the cashier who takes your order too.

After a hard process of elimination I ordered the Rolled Tacos, one steak and one chicken. I was surprised at how fast the food was prepared considering all orders are made on the spot. Nothing is pre-made. Ten minutes after my order I was savoring the corn tortilla, topped with lettuces, sour cream, cheese, and, oh, my one and only guacamole. Both tacos were delicious, but I would recommend ordering the steak one. My Rolled Tacos and coke were a total of $9. A pretty good deal. The best part was definitely the spicy tomato sauce (made from real tomatoes. I don´t mean ketchup). My tongue still burns from how much sauce I put in the tacos. Heart burn here we go.

My only disappointment was how much lettuce was in the plate. Less salad, more tacos and cheese and we´ll all be happy.

When I first go to the eatery at 2 p.m. there was only one customer in the restaurant. When I left 35 minutes later there were a total of 17 people. A couple of students and an older crowd filled the locale. Surprisingly, none of the customers were speaking Spanish. Pinche Taqueria seems to satisfy the pallet of locale New Yorkers, a tough crowd I would say.

For the non meat eaters and weight watchers Pinche Taqueria offers fish and vegetarian tacos as well as salads. For the drinkers, there´s an entire fridge full of Mexican beers. It also offers a breakfast menu every day of the week from noon to 4 p.m. Huevos rancheros with a side order of Chilaquiles for me, please.

I don´t think you´ll find better MEXICAN food (not the Americanized version of it) in the city with these prices. Seriously, don´t miss out on going to Pinche Taqueria, wey.