I can't believe this. I had such a sad day. After two hours of waiting for some help with my comatose Ipod and helping a total stranger find her birth certificate and other vital documents/information(http://acidjazzboy.blogspot.com/2006/08/blogging-from-apple-store-and-saving.html), the "geniuses" of Apple couldn't do a thing. Suddenly, the Apple Store along 5th Avenue didn't seem like the electronics version of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory; it was more like a killer season finale of ER.
My Ipod is dead.
It's too expensive to get it fixed and there is no guarantee that the hard drive will not self-discombobulate again. It's gone only after a bit over a year. Yes. The warranty has expired.
I can't tell which was worse, the death of my Ipod - a comfort purchase I made in California after bumping into my ex-fiancee - or the guilt of buying a new Ipod Nano while trimming the weight of the wallet and bank account. I seriously felt guilty for buying a new one. I feel better now after listening to the new Brand New Heavies song "Let's Do It Again" from their new album "Get Used to It." http://www.myspace.com/thebrandnewheavies
It's a good thing I don't have a pet. . . or even worse, a tamagotchi. http://www.mimitchi.com/html/q1.htm
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Blogging from the Apple Store and Saving Someone's Life
So my Ipod crashed on me today. All my songs are gone and I'm upset. It's a good thing that all my music is on my computer. To think, I was so excited too this morning because the Brand New Heavies came out with a new album and they had reunited with their star singer N'Dea Davenport. The album is awesome. It's no Brother Sister, but it's definitely worth looking at. In any case, I'm here at the Apple store on 59 st. and 5th Ave. and it is RIDICULOUS.
The store is underground located right at the lawn of the General Motors Building. The entrance is this louvre-like glass structure protruding from the ground with a huge white apple icon hanging in the middle for all to see. A spiral staircase (translucent as you might have guessed) leads down into this basement full of Apple products waiting to be purchased and samples of products being abused by the freeloader consumer public (i.e. me right now blogging on a Mac mini). The genius bar line is quite long. I think 20 people are staffed at the moment behind the genius bar, 6 of which are around to fix the Ipods of New York. It's around 6:10 PM and my appointment is at 7.
The real story though was getting here. I was visiting a close friend, a med student living in Murray Hill, and decided to take a cab to the Apple Store from NYU medical center after checking out her new apartment. When I entered the cab, I noticed a folder in the backseat. It was a typical letter sized folder with a mix of documents of different sizes and colors. . . uhr, at least that's what I had observed from the open side of the folder.
I told the cab driver that his previous passenger had left a crapload of important documents in his backseat and the driver flipped. He got the folder, and while driving 45 MPH through rush hour traffic along First Ave., he tried looking for a phone number. He literally had the passenger's birth certificate a millimeter away from his nose. . . and that's when I told him I could help him (especially since I was pretty sure that current phone numbers aren't normally found on your birth certificate).
The passenger was applying for a social security card. All her credit cards were in the folder and her parents' info including SS numbers were written all over the place. I found her phone number and decided to call her.
She flipped. She was screaming like a 90's murder-horror-screamer victim. She couldn't believe how "stupid" she was. Of course I calmed her down and told her that I would take care of the documents until she could get them from me. She basically said that I saved her life, and well, that's an ok thing to hear after a long day.
That's it for now. I think I will check out some more Apple products I will never buy in this lifetime. Check out the new Brand New Heavies Album. It's on Itunes.
The store is underground located right at the lawn of the General Motors Building. The entrance is this louvre-like glass structure protruding from the ground with a huge white apple icon hanging in the middle for all to see. A spiral staircase (translucent as you might have guessed) leads down into this basement full of Apple products waiting to be purchased and samples of products being abused by the freeloader consumer public (i.e. me right now blogging on a Mac mini). The genius bar line is quite long. I think 20 people are staffed at the moment behind the genius bar, 6 of which are around to fix the Ipods of New York. It's around 6:10 PM and my appointment is at 7.
The real story though was getting here. I was visiting a close friend, a med student living in Murray Hill, and decided to take a cab to the Apple Store from NYU medical center after checking out her new apartment. When I entered the cab, I noticed a folder in the backseat. It was a typical letter sized folder with a mix of documents of different sizes and colors. . . uhr, at least that's what I had observed from the open side of the folder.
I told the cab driver that his previous passenger had left a crapload of important documents in his backseat and the driver flipped. He got the folder, and while driving 45 MPH through rush hour traffic along First Ave., he tried looking for a phone number. He literally had the passenger's birth certificate a millimeter away from his nose. . . and that's when I told him I could help him (especially since I was pretty sure that current phone numbers aren't normally found on your birth certificate).
The passenger was applying for a social security card. All her credit cards were in the folder and her parents' info including SS numbers were written all over the place. I found her phone number and decided to call her.
She flipped. She was screaming like a 90's murder-horror-screamer victim. She couldn't believe how "stupid" she was. Of course I calmed her down and told her that I would take care of the documents until she could get them from me. She basically said that I saved her life, and well, that's an ok thing to hear after a long day.
That's it for now. I think I will check out some more Apple products I will never buy in this lifetime. Check out the new Brand New Heavies Album. It's on Itunes.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Three Episodes
1. The I Hate Myself Episode: The other week, my friends treated me out to dinner for my birthday at this funky Japanese restaurant for some sushi in midtown. Upon entering the restaurant, there was a vestibule with two antique chairs (presumably for waiting), and flanked by glass doors leading into the actual dining area. My friends were, as expected, pretty late and I was sitting down on one of the wooden "thrones" facing the outside. After a few more minutes, two of my friends showed up but were waiting for everyone else before being seated because Times Square customs dictate that you may not be seated unless your entire party is present.
While we were waiting, a young woman in office clothes and with a company ID walked into the vestibule presumably to make a reservation with the restaurant. She was a small lady and appeared to have deformities on her hands. More specifically, she had shrunk hands and barely any fingers.
Then, I (the idiot, as you will see) placed myself in a dilemma that I figured would be a lose-lose situation. And of course, knowing my luck with self-fulfilling prophecies, it ended up as being a huge loss.
The lady tried opening the door leading into the dining area where the reception was located, but couldn't because her hands were too small to pull the thick gold handle. In what some would consider to be a vile inhumane move, I did not immediately come to her aid. Let me explain first. The last few times this exact same scenario had occurred resulted in unilateral screaming episodes and reprimand because I had offended them. I realized that some people didn't want to be helped. So each time it happens again, I freeze out of fear and I don't know if I'm going to be offending anyone. Lose lose. If I help, I'm insensitive. If I don't help, I'm just not human.
After a few unsuccessful attempts by the lady to open the door, my friend asked me to open the door for the lady...and I did. The awkwardness from not doing it right away loomed over the vestibule like the defining scene of an antagonist's character in a movie where there are no real villains, just humans with or without errors. I was full of errors that day. Happy birthday to the sensitive man...the overly sensitive man that thinks too much. At least now I've made my resolution. It was just such a sad moment for me and I can't help but feel idiotic.
I think I'll just keep on helping anyone at anytime, because that's just natural of me to do so. After all, I'm known to always open doors for just about anyone. What would I care if they thought I was offending them? Err on the side of objective consideration I say.
2. The Not Thinking Before Talking Episode: My friend bartends at this hip Japanese fusion place in the upper east side. She does shifts on Sundays and asked me to keep her company last Sunday.
Let's fast forward to the next morning. In a nutshell, I was sick of alcohol and my bathroom was not spared from the evidence.
Moral of the story: If you have a friend that bartends, and she asks you what you want to drink, never answer with, "Just give me whatever you want me to have. You can practice your mixing on me."
3. The Real Independence Episode: I bought myself my first car ever. Will post a pic soon. 2000 Grand Jeep Cherokee Laredo. I also got my apartment...
...and a phone call from my future boss telling me to start work earlier. Oh well. At least I can use the cash flow.
While we were waiting, a young woman in office clothes and with a company ID walked into the vestibule presumably to make a reservation with the restaurant. She was a small lady and appeared to have deformities on her hands. More specifically, she had shrunk hands and barely any fingers.
Then, I (the idiot, as you will see) placed myself in a dilemma that I figured would be a lose-lose situation. And of course, knowing my luck with self-fulfilling prophecies, it ended up as being a huge loss.
The lady tried opening the door leading into the dining area where the reception was located, but couldn't because her hands were too small to pull the thick gold handle. In what some would consider to be a vile inhumane move, I did not immediately come to her aid. Let me explain first. The last few times this exact same scenario had occurred resulted in unilateral screaming episodes and reprimand because I had offended them. I realized that some people didn't want to be helped. So each time it happens again, I freeze out of fear and I don't know if I'm going to be offending anyone. Lose lose. If I help, I'm insensitive. If I don't help, I'm just not human.
After a few unsuccessful attempts by the lady to open the door, my friend asked me to open the door for the lady...and I did. The awkwardness from not doing it right away loomed over the vestibule like the defining scene of an antagonist's character in a movie where there are no real villains, just humans with or without errors. I was full of errors that day. Happy birthday to the sensitive man...the overly sensitive man that thinks too much. At least now I've made my resolution. It was just such a sad moment for me and I can't help but feel idiotic.
I think I'll just keep on helping anyone at anytime, because that's just natural of me to do so. After all, I'm known to always open doors for just about anyone. What would I care if they thought I was offending them? Err on the side of objective consideration I say.
2. The Not Thinking Before Talking Episode: My friend bartends at this hip Japanese fusion place in the upper east side. She does shifts on Sundays and asked me to keep her company last Sunday.
Let's fast forward to the next morning. In a nutshell, I was sick of alcohol and my bathroom was not spared from the evidence.
Moral of the story: If you have a friend that bartends, and she asks you what you want to drink, never answer with, "Just give me whatever you want me to have. You can practice your mixing on me."
3. The Real Independence Episode: I bought myself my first car ever. Will post a pic soon. 2000 Grand Jeep Cherokee Laredo. I also got my apartment...
...and a phone call from my future boss telling me to start work earlier. Oh well. At least I can use the cash flow.
*Recommendations: Watch "The Descent" with friends that can't stand freaky movies - It's messed up. Definitely watch "Little Miss Sunshine"
Monday, August 07, 2006
28 Years
No. This is not a movie critique on that sick British apocalyptic movie about zombies (which I realized is 28 days and not years anyway). It's something just as frightening. My 28th birthday.
Let's plot my life at this very moment of turning 28 and see where I am in the universal scheme of things.
Job? Yes. Lawyer to be pending a favorable letter by the New York Board of Law Examiners. My boss just called me and told me that I should start earlier. While cutting into vacation time is never a fun thing, starting my new career should be just as fun. . . I think. Of course, we're plotting where I am at this very moment, so a further conversation on attempting to get a masters in music business at NYU wouldn't be in line with this blog entry.
Health? Good luck to me. My cholesterol score is probably higher than all of my standardized test scores in my lifetime put together. It's time to hit the gym and get that body into good shape. I promise. This is the year. And yes...that includes a healthier diet.
Partner/Lover/Girlfriend? None. Am I almost there? Not really. Other than random dates and setups, *deleted segment* Change topic. Won't jinx anything at this point.
Wealth? No paycheck yet. Nothing to talk about here.
Place to live? Don't get me started with my apartment search. New York real estate is probably the most anyone will ever have to spend in their entire life. I just want a washer and dryer in my unit and I don't want a kitchen with linoleum floors. It's really gross.
So in general, I give myself an 8 out of 10 for starting a new life as a lawyer in NY. I have a lot to work on this year. I can't wait to see what happens. Happy birthday to me.
Let's plot my life at this very moment of turning 28 and see where I am in the universal scheme of things.
Job? Yes. Lawyer to be pending a favorable letter by the New York Board of Law Examiners. My boss just called me and told me that I should start earlier. While cutting into vacation time is never a fun thing, starting my new career should be just as fun. . . I think. Of course, we're plotting where I am at this very moment, so a further conversation on attempting to get a masters in music business at NYU wouldn't be in line with this blog entry.
Health? Good luck to me. My cholesterol score is probably higher than all of my standardized test scores in my lifetime put together. It's time to hit the gym and get that body into good shape. I promise. This is the year. And yes...that includes a healthier diet.
Partner/Lover/Girlfriend? None. Am I almost there? Not really. Other than random dates and setups, *deleted segment* Change topic. Won't jinx anything at this point.
Wealth? No paycheck yet. Nothing to talk about here.
Place to live? Don't get me started with my apartment search. New York real estate is probably the most anyone will ever have to spend in their entire life. I just want a washer and dryer in my unit and I don't want a kitchen with linoleum floors. It's really gross.
So in general, I give myself an 8 out of 10 for starting a new life as a lawyer in NY. I have a lot to work on this year. I can't wait to see what happens. Happy birthday to me.
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