Hang On, Loopy

Recently I received this email from ostensible British financier Garry Loopy:

I sent an email to you but it seems you never received it. I had to take the pain to send it again. I seek your partnership to enable me transfer some funds (Ј6m pounds) to your account for both of us and i am open for negotiation in terms of your percentage so far you put in your utmost attention and sincerity due to the nature of this transaction.I am the finance manager Bank of Scotland and I assure all documents to back you up will be provided by me. Please respond to me via email for more details.

Best Regards,
Garry Loopy
grlppy@live.co.uk

I swan, an offer -- let's face it, an email handle of "grippy" -- is ever so tempting, readers. And yet I'm an American girl. Mr. Loopy seeks my partnership! What in the world shall I do?

Catch the Waves

I am told that upon driving in Manhattan I suddenly transform into "New York Patti," a rather colorful character given to aggressive driving habits that include cursing like a stevedore while performing breathtaking maneuvers that scatter hapless cabs and pedestrians in my wake. Of this, I cannot comment, except to record that during my last trip, I passed a mysterious-looking building at 49 West 27th Street between Broadway and Sixth Avenue. It was the former Gerlach Hotel, where Nikola Tesla lived and experimented with radio waves around 1896. I wondered if this misunderstood Yugoslavian genius ever envisioned the majority of the city's residents having their eyes glued to wireless devices instead of watching where they're going.

Futurismo

This week brought news that my Sisters2 took the plunge into the heady world of mobile devices; namely, the purchase of twin Blackberry Curves and a matching Verizon plan so they can text, surf, and chat to their hearts' content. If this isn't the future, what is?

While meandering a church basement tag sale in the city, I happened upon a hallway adorned with artwork produced by schoolkids not much older than my sisters and I were in the gauzy photo above. Little Sophie Eisenberg's remarkable monochrome print stood out from the rest. I think you'll agree that this unsung 3rd grade artiste managed to come up with a sci-fi/retro-futurist-inspired composition worthy of Man Ray.

Imagine the distractions young Sophie and her kind will contend with...or will the next generation harken back to the Be Here Now school of thought?

Streetwise

Here I am not littering, smoking, spitting, or playing the radio (or leaking earpod buzz) and generally behaving myself at the rear of the #7 bus on Madison Ave. crossing 80th. I was on my way to see the Man Ray exhibit, in which paintings and photos of famed muse and role model Kiki de Montparnasse figured largely. Legend has it that Kiki held the unofficial title of "Queen of Montparnasse." As some may know, I am in favor of self-declared royalty, especially where dancing and sequined costumes are involved.

On the Mass Turnpike from Springfield to Boston there exists a number of secluded rest areas that I have dubbed "Stop and Be Killed." Featuring conveniently isolated parking, shaded from public view by dense foliage, I can't imagine a more likely spot to have unwanted contact with crazed murderers lurking along our nation's highways.

Falafel Trek

Ever since Francophile travel consultant M. Henri first called our attention to the superb nature of the cuisine found at the celebrated L’As du Falafel in the Marais district of Paris, I have been searching for its Boston counterpart.

The fare at Moody's Falafel Palace in Central Square may be a contender. According to some, "the smaller and dirtier the falafel stand, the better the falafel," but Moody's is neither small nor dirty. Housed in a former White Castle hamburger joint, it's no smaller than your average neighborhood sub shop. Rumor has it that Ben Affleck comes here just for the working-class ambiance. I came for the food. My chicken shwarma had just the right amount of garlicky zing and the falafel featured a flavorful tahini sauce.
Also particularly satisfying (but not edible) are the offerings at Modells in nearby Fresh Pond, where Global Design Director JoeY (a longtime fan of pimpin' shoes at cut-rate prices) discovered Superbowl fans had overlooked truly fabulous game-day deals on pairs of $19.95 Skechers and half-priced athletic socks.

Need I say how I like a man in stripeys 'neath Skechers?

Arts Alibi

In the event I should be blamed for any number of crimes committed at 8:09 PM on February 6th, 2010, this photo will establish me as waiting on the platform of the MTA Orange Line's Back Bay station. Furthermore, I was returning from the very edifying experience of attending a performance of The Good Negro, a thoughtful, powerful play at the Boston Center for the Arts, for which my neighbor Heidi Nelson served as dramaturg. Today is the final performance, and I recommend it heartily.