The Ear Hole

warning signs

Click to hear Between The Lines by Charles Whitehead.

Hot damn.

Bona-fide soul turkey Charles Whitehead

are you Joe-king?

Gourmet Grocer's NYC Debut Marred By Door Drama

The Trader Joe's buzz is in the New York City air. In fact, for months now, Manhattanites have been eagerly awaiting the arrival of yet another organic, specialty-food shopping alternative. So when the gourmet grocery-store chain cut the ribbon on its brand-new Union Square location two weeks ago, spirits and expectations were about as high as the outfit's prices are low.

To be sure, opening weekend found curious New Yorkers lined up by the hundreds for a first look at the brand-new David to neighbor Whole Foods' Goliath. And even two weeks later, it appears all-natural peanut-butter-stuffed pretzels and Trader Joe's Thai Lime & Chili peanuts are still more valuable than many New Yorkers' time: At 6 pm on Monday, the line stretched nearly an entire avenue block.

But between the urban lemmings and their additive-free treats looms a daunting obstacle: Tracy.

"Man, I really wasn't expecting that when I got to the front of the line," said Gary Schwartzman, 27, of Murray Hill. "That woman wasn't kidding around. I actually thought she might turn me away." And if she had, Schwartzman certainly would not have been the first.

From a green wooden stool outside the 14th and 3rd entrance, Trader Joe's line manager Tracy Glick upholds order with an iron fist, crying foul at any and all behavior she deems the least bit detrimental to the overall harmony of her queue.

Since March 17th, Glick, 72, has stymied a total of 37 would-be shoppers based on an array of infractions, including excessive voice volume, rough-housing, and even careless wardrobe maintenance (yesterday, eye-witnesses reported a middle-aged man shamefully walking off with an untied left shoelace). Shoppers expecting to use a cellular phone within earshot of Glick may as well stay home and order online.

"When we finally made it to the front of the line, she honestly just glared at us as if we were joking," recalls Dustin Baker, who had made the lazy-Sunday trek from the Upper West Side with his two roommates. "Old bitch goes, 'Listen fellas, it's a major sausage fest in there. Come back when you have some chicks in tow.' Unfuckingbelievable."

But for Schwartzman, who was granted admission only after managing to convince Glick that his navy cotton button-down was not from The Gap, the door drama was well worth it.

"I don't get it, everyone else in the store was so nice and normal," he said. "Anyway, I got the milk, bread, salad and chicken breasts I came for, so I'm a happy camper. Sure has hell couldn't have gotten this stuff across the street at the Food Emporium."

Seriously, does it seem strange to anyone else that people are willing to wait in line to go GROCERY SHOPPING? What is happening?

f is for friday

...and for "f work."

i'm digging on this tune today. enjoy.

The Chesterfields - She Can't Wait

beatles freaks

This could be one of the greatest performances of all time. Click below to watch this quack juggle tennis balls in rhythm to the end of the Abbey Road B-Side. Hysterical and amazing.

The Abbey Road Juggle

And if that's not enough, watch this kooky little fella drop a beautiful ukelele version of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps."

Weeping Ukelele

Enjoy.

patrick

On Friday, March 17th, New York City celebrated St. Patrick's day...for the third consecutive weekend.

Yes, if you are a twenty-something living in the New York City area, you knew of three St. Patrick's day celebrations in 2006: The Hoboken St. Patrick's Day Parade (March 4), The South Street Seaport St. Patrick's Day Bar Crawl (March 11) and the Manhattan St. Patrick's Day Parade (March 17).

And as they are able to do year after year, all three events managed to unite hordes of respectful young urbanites in a genuine display of Irish nationalism seen only among the most devout guardians of the country's sacred heritage. Clothed in traditional Celtic garb, the jovial purists sang, danced and marched in observance of Ireland's great patron saint and his tireless efforts to spread Christianity throughout fifth-century Ireland.

Hoboken Mayor David Roberts, giddy with St. Pat's emotion, couldn't help but gloat over his townspeople's show of faith and respect on the special day.

"If 'I shamrock NY' t-shirts and green Bud Light cans don't say, 'Saint Patrick's noble religious sacrifices were not in vain,' I don't know what does," Roberts slurred between sips of Irish coffee while awaiting the start of the parade*. "I mean, it's March 4th. St. Patrick's Day. Just look at the spirit surrounding us and tell me these Hobokenites don't recognize that."

Traditional Irish purists honor the storied legacy of the great Saint Patrick in Hoboken, NJ.

* - If you're watching a parade, don't follow it. It never changes. If the parade is boring, run in the opposite direction. You will fast-forward the parade.
-Mitch Hedberg

GOAL!!

Does this count? (<--- click that)

poser

I am ashamed to admit that lately I have not been attending many of the shows listed over there on the left side of this page. Though I am already in possession of tickets for three of them (Greyboy, Soulive, DBB) the talent I've allowed to slip through the cracks over the last couple weeks makes me question my own integrity. George Clinton, The Meters and, most recently, The Commitments; two legendary bands and one damn good reunion show (The Commitments are the actor/musician soul outfit behind the 1991 film of the same name).

In my own defense, all three shows were at The B.B. King Blues Club, which is a terrific but bloody expensive venue. Also, at least one of those events was on a Tuesday, and I hate Tuesdays.
Still, I don't think there are going to be many more chances to catch The Meters. Check out this 1974 live video from their prime.

Perhaps I will try to redeem myself by seeing Breaking Laces at the Cutting Room tonight. But it's Monday, for Christ's sake, and I had a long weekend. Besides, they play there next Monday, too.
I am a poser.

In other news, the official results are in for 2005 Man Of The Year. Enjoy.

hard out here for a pimp

I accidentally got sucked into a few moments of the 78th Annual Academy Awards broadcast last night... and I'd like to give a big shout-out to God that I happened to be watching when Queen Latifah opened the envelope for Best Original Song. I have to think that the ensuing shenanigans were by far the most entertaining of the evening. And by entertaining, I mean hysterical.

Fresh off a drive-by assault on the the green-room cheese spread, Her Majesty took the potium, then swallowed aggressively as she unsealed the envelope, curtailed a belch and began to read aloud. The first magical sentence out of her mouth would ignite chaos for several minutes to come:

"It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp!"

Then, all hell broke loose.

Enter the Three 6 Mafia (and posse). Armored in the standard-issue Oscars garb of throwback basketball jerseys, shiny gold things (read: teeth) and water-resistant work boots, the hip-hop trio bounced giddily about the stage, thanking everyone from Mom to Big Daddy God in an inspired, bleep-laden acceptance speech. Unadulterated MTV Video Music Awards-style raucousness.

Meanwhile, stage left, a gleeful Jon Stewart watched his first Oscars script write itself before his very eyes.

Of course, you couldn't help but be happy for the guys (and lord knows they were happy for themselves). How refreshing to actually see some genuine elation from an artist who just captured one of the highest accolades in showbiz. And where contrived, arrogant rants are the acceptance-speech norm -- the two Were Rabbit dudes came prepared with little bowties for their Oscars, for Christ's sake -- it was certainly a nice change of pace to experience the healthy helping of pride and excitement (and testosterone) that was the Three 6 Mafia show.

Stewart himself said it best when he returned to the podium: "THAT'S how you accept an Oscar!"

"I just couldn't believe it. I couldn't stand still," Jordan "Juicy J" Houston (left) said backstage. "I had to run somewhere. I started to run somewhere. People thought the police was probably chasing me somewhere."
Hmm...