.Being single has made for the best Valentines Days. Theres no pressure involved. I usually forget about it and when I walk outside, there’s an unusual amount of men holding flowers and storefronts illuminating more pink than the streets of a breast cancer marathon. What is not to like?!
Last year, I somehow managed to smuggle a bundle of balloons out of a fancy shmancy fashion week party. This year, I tried to continue spreading the love in ways that don’t come back in the form of an STD.
So when I woke up, I printed out some flyers and taped them up around New York for the more humbled of hearts.
I loved this experiment! I loved peoples reactions, walking by these places later in the day to find pieces missing, and the silly guys that would occasionally appear over my shoulder as I put them up, searching for a question that didn’t need to exist.
Photo from my attempt to spread love through the city with balloons, last Valentines Day.
Other than the increased odds of catching my favorite guilty pleasure movie on tv, my favorite part of Valentines day is the excuse to spend hours rummaging through my music for love songs (or breakup songs, depending on the timing). To stay up with the times, this year, I cracked open Garageband and made my first ever podcast.
Things included in this podcast:
Banter about Ike and Tina Turner
Love songs written for temperamental people
A really bad British accent. Like, really bad….I wouldn’t even call it British.
New York is a bit of a city made for masochist. The best places in the city are the gritty ones with questionable food ethics and seemingly morose employees. Katz deli is one of these places. You walk into Katz and some disgruntled man slouched onto a stool hands you a ticket with a list of numbers on it and no explanation. What they are NOT telling you when they hand you this ticket is:
you hand it to the person who makes your food, and they hand it back to you with the total on it.
if you lose this ticket, you get charged 50 bucks.
this “lost ticket fee” was instilled about 10 years ago.
You choose the person you want to make your sandwich, and they chop the meat in front of you, and give you a sample of the fresh meat while you wait. I always try to find the oldest guy because he’s usually the biggest asshole who makes the best sandwich.
Although the sandwiches are a bit pricey (15-17 dollars a pop) I bet you can’t get through half of one without wanting to die a little inside. As a meat eater and a lover of irrelevant history, this is one of my favorite New York establishments.