I’ve been working at this location for over a year now, and today I found out that the quarts of milk in the refrigerator are supplied by the company for anyone to use. I always thought that they belonged to an individual, because the refrigerators are there for the purpose of storing employees’ personal food. All this time I’ve been drinking black coffee at work even though I hate it!

Has anyone else ever noticed just how much Coke® there is in Sixteen Candles? Next time you’re watching it and want to get really drunk, take a drink every time you see a Coca-Cola® product. The cafeteria scene alone will get you extremely pissed.

At the Olive Tree Cafe (on MacDougal Street in Greenwich Village), they let you draw on the tables with chalk.

We’re letting our lease expire June 30 (because we’re not terribly fond of our location, our building manager who takes months to get things fixed, our super who can’t fix things himself and who doesn’t speak English, our cafeteria tile floor, our mouse, and so forth), and we’re looking for a new apartment for June 1. We want a month of overlap so that we can paint the whole place our own colors, really design the interior, and take our time moving.

In a normal city, we’d start looking 1-2 months in advance. In New York City, the recommended time to start looking is 3 days in advance because they like to rent things immediately. There isn’t really a shortage of real estate, as the brokers would have us believe; they just don’t like to advertise an apartment until it’s truly ready for a tenant, and then they hope to get a tenant in there immediately. If you’re not ready to move in for a month or two, they’d rather keep looking for a tenant who’s ready sooner. Of course, that’s not to say they’ll find one, so often you’ll find the same apartment is still available when you’re ready for an immediate apartment.

Also in a normal city, you wouldn’t pay a broker half of your limbs, but in New York City they control, and solely represent, most of the buildings you’d want to live in. It’s a winning situation for the landlord, since the broker takes care of the advertising and screening and doesn’t charge the landlord. It’s a losing situation for the tenant, because the broker does very little work and gets paid an exorbitant amount, but the landlord and broker don’t care.

Today I contacted several brokers whose apartments were listed on Craig’s List. I’m going to view one of the apartments today (because I called that one instead of emailing), and I’m crossing my fingers to find what I want without too much hassle.

This weekend I was fortunate enough to stumble upon three street fairs while going about my business in the city.

There was one on 2nd Avenue which blocked my bus from reaching Urban Outfitters (my destination) on Saturday, but it was rather disappointing. There were very few vendors (each had his own block of the street, it seemed) and even fewer visitors. I think it was basically rained out.

The next one was on University Place, and I walked into it while wandering around Nolita later on Saturday. It was bustling with people, crafts, cheap wares, and great food. I was very excited to get my first street fair corn dog of the year. I also tried something new called an arapa, which is mozzarella between two sweet corn patties. It was… interesting. And of course, no street fair would be complete without an excellent nutella-filled crepe. My friend Michelle joined me, and we wandered up and down University for hours, enjoying the food, the occasional rain, and the vibe. It was definitely good times. We decided that the calories don’t count as long as you keep walking the whole time.

I ran into the third street fair on Sunday, as it was located on Broadway in the nineties, in front of the theatre where I was seeing a show. It was basically the same as the previous street fair, but it was more crowded (to the point of being “too crowded” instead of just “delightfully lively”). I grabbed a corn dog and then left.

Apparently there will be more street fairs throughout May, and I’m excited. I want more corn dogs.

If you’re in need of a great peanut butter shake in the theatre district, try the Renaissance Restaurant [Diner] on 9th and 52nd. Their food is typical diner food, so it’s not all that great, but their shakes are peculiarly amazing.

While walking down Third Avenue, I picked up a menu from a Mexican restaurant called Samalita’s of California. I was all excited. Could it really be just like the Mexican restaurants back home?

First thing I always look for is the chicken quesadilla because it’s my favorite. They had two quesadillas on the menu:

Quesadillas
Corn Tortillas with Monterey Jack Cheese
Original Cheese – $4.75
Picadillo or Chorizo con Papas – $5.25

What the fuck? They don’t have a chicken quesadilla or a beef quesadilla, but they have a chorizo con papas quesadilla? Who orders that? And as if that’s not bad enough, they put both quesadillas on corn tortillas instead of flour tortillas.

Mexican food is so simple. It constantly amazes me when I see the great lengths to which Mexican restaurants in New York will go to screw it up.

I’ve got eight winning Diet Pepsi bottle caps so far, but the cafeteria downstairs has run out of Diet Pepsi. Now I’m stuck drinking Diet Mountain Dew because a) I won’t drink regular Pepsi, and 2) Mountain Dew also has the iTunes promotion. I’m not a big fan of the Dew, though. If you’re going to have a caffeinated soda, it needs to taste like cola, and it needs to not look like extra-terrestrial urine.

This past weekend I was back in California for my grandpa’s eightieth birthday party, and I managed to visit many of the restaurants I miss. I ate at Del Taco, In-N-Out, El Torito Grill, Cafe Pascal, Claim Jumper, BJ’s, and Harbor House. If you’re in California, I highly recommend that you enjoy these places while you have access to them. I haven’t found better tacos, grilled cheese sandwiches, tortillas, quiche or crepes, potato cheddar soup, dessert, or milkshakes since I moved to New York.

They served coq au vin in the Cafe downstairs today. I couldn’t help but giggle because it sounded like cock with wine.

But then I was humbled by the realization that, technically, it is cock with wine. I mean, it’s prob’ly just standard chicken when they cook it here, but clearly coq is the same root as our word cock (ie, “rooster”). So now it’s not funny anymore.

Wait… coq au vin… actually, yeah, it’s still funny.