beetrock

So yesterday I committed a crime. Forgive me, all the lefty, anti-corporate vegaquarians of the world, for I have sinned. I failed you in the worst way possible. I got a Big Fish sandwich at a Burger King along the Jersey Pike.

I urge everyone to note that my sin was not that of conviction, but rather one of expediency and despair. In addition to the BK, New Jersey Turnpike presented no option other than McDonalds, Popeyes or Nathan’s. Of course, some will say that I could’ve avoided this misdeed by dining on a Carvel cone. Read more…

Now that the Open has finally come to a close, I can speak freely about the anxiety and other chaotic feelings that I experienced a week or so ago. I never thought of myself as much of a sports’ fan with an exception of soccer and occasionally gymnastics and figure skating. Of course during the Olympics I show my national pride by rooting exceptionally for the Motherland and resorting to heavy vodka drinking when the Russian hockey team doesn’t get into the finals. While the biannual celebrations of sports are in session, I also love to send obnoxious emails to my international friends and say things like “Did you see how we totally kicked your ass in that last race?” So I guess I do get into it. And tennis, due to the recent Russian invasion of the sport, has been my obsession.

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My job is not very exciting, so to spice things up I began streaming Air America, NPR and my Yahoo station over the gorgeous speakers inherited from my predecessor. The good part is that no one can really hear me – the cube walls are so tall and the air so thick with the dust of a public institution that I can blow out the speakers on Al Franken and Soterios Johnson and still, hardly anyone will notice. The bad part is that my little “operation” might get shut down by the IT department at any moment. So I might as well enjoy the radio while I can get to it! So today the major world developments that caught my attention were the mind-boggling diabetes statistics of India and a jerky reaction of Starbucks workers to a creative, money-saving fix by some coffee-savvy customer. Read more…

Having wine and cheese in Central Park has become one of my favorite NYC activities. After loading up appropriately at Trader Joe’s, I met up with Jo-Anne – the wine-in-the-park originator – and we headed northward on the B train. We entered the park near Strawberry Fields and plopped ourselves on the slightly wet grass in a perfect spot to be viewing runners and bicyclists and reminding ourselves of our own unhealthy indulgences. In three hours, our meal of cheese, chocolate and crackers finished, and our moods lifted by two bottles of cheap wine (props to Trader Joe’s Black Mountain Pinot Noir), we were ready to head home. Read more…

Apparently because it was, like many other things in this world, initially conceived for the purposes of male entertainment. Well… that’s an overstatement. This article explains it all…

UPDATE

Wiki also rules because of its unwavering principles. That’s right! Eat it, mainland China. And way to totally piss on the freedom of information tree, Google!

Three weeks ago Lydia and I took a road trip to the tiny islands off the coast of Maryland and Virginia with the intriguing names of Chincoteague and Assateague. Apparently infamous for their wild pony population, the islands not only played up to our immigration-induced love for untamed animals, but also presented an opportunity to escape the City of the Yellow Devil. Improper Gorky scholars, Lydia and I were far from anti-capitalism when we got into the freshly vacuumed, Budget-leased Ford Taurus. Heading west on Bay Parkway we were prepared for whatever fate had in store for us. One Cinnabon-smelling bathroom and a hundred miles of New Jersey Turnpike later, fate landed us in Baltimore, Maryland, outside of my first-ever place of full-time employment. Read more…

The aircrafts keep on crashing over my motherland. Pulkovo is Saint Petersburg’s own airline and the thought that any number of the people I know could have been on that plane is unsettling.

I love the official comments – “definitely not terrorism, guys, everything was in order, crew sent mild cries for help.” Oh, thank god it wasn’t terrorism! What the hell! Can someone just come out and say that the newest Tupolev 154 was made in 1984? The pride of Soviet air-fleet, the model was banned by China in the late nineties. But surely, if China’s one billion citizens are not ready for our Cold War era mechanics, we will prove her wrong by flopping our rusted metal wings all over the wide Russian skies. Whatever it takes to cover up the shattered local industrial complex. Read more…

Soviet symphony composer, equally loved and banned in his time, will triumph this fall and winter in music venues all over the East Coast. I am excited beyond belief. Nerdy, I know, but on most occasions the works of the genius will be performed by symphony crews from my hometown. Lincoln Center, Carnegie Hall and Kennedy Center will all hear some sweet Russian tunes.