Posted by Chris at 11:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Given that our household represents different Uptown demographics (Cheryl is black, I am white, and Cimbi, our cat, is Dominican), I am guessing that some of the discoveries we make about each other could be of interest to the greater Uptown population. In this spirit, I offer our most recent observation for your thoughts and input:

Is it just us, or do all black people enjoy their families, and all white people become annoyed by them?

Take, for instance, Sunday night. Cheryl and I both spoke to our mothers on the phone, but with greatly different conclusions. Cheryl spent around 45 minutes with her mother laughing, gossiping and swapping advice. I spent 10 minutes and 17 seconds on the phone with my mother and had to follow it up with a few yoga positions and 15 minutes of 'talking it out' before my heart rate came down to a point where I could sleep.

This was not an isolated incident. About 3 years into our relationship, I had already been to multiple functions with Cheryl's extended family. Compare that with Cheryl learning I have more than one cousin only after three years of our being together. When she asked why I hadn't mentioned them, I gave to her what I understood as a very reasonable answer: "Uh, I don't know. Maybe we don't have a lot in common." Not having a lot in common seemed anathema to how Cheryl understands family, which by itself she sees as giving people a lot in common.

We informally surveyed our friends and associates, and this trend seemed to hold fairly steady across the people we know. However, this could just be due to like people associating with each other (seriously, many of the transplants I know here are escaping family to some degree).

So, any thoughts on the subject are greatly appreciated.

Posted by Chris at 11:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

In honor of being totally wiped by the gym this evening, this post will be in the style of marathon runner and continuous fountain of knowledge Harlem 26.2:

Started out this evening with an abs class, and then moved on to free weights. I focused on chest and arms, breaking it up with 20 minutes on the treadmill at 80 percent. For a final stretch, I took an intensive Club Yoga class. I drank a 32oz Gatorade before getting on the subway, and stopped off at Fairway on the way home to pick up a pack of antibiotic free chicken breasts. I baked the chicken, which I served with a mixed greens salad for Cheryl and myself.

Gym wiped or not gym wiped, I muster up enough energy to read Harlem 26.2 every night. Not only does each post contain great information on health and fitness as well as the nabe, but I get to read how Lance did running that day.

I encourage everyone to join his growing fan base cheering him on as he approaches the marathon. The distances/times the guy runs on a daily basis are damn inspirational.

Posted by Chris at 11:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Despite feeling that I know certain Harlemites quite well from reading their blogs, I've never actually met the authors. So what would meeting them in real life be like? Easy. A non-stop roller-coaster thrill-ride pitting cyclist against runner against dog owner against photography enthusiast against chronicler, as exemplified by this imagined scenario, written for easy film adaptation:

DANGER HILL

Cast:
Me, Harlem Fur, played by Leonardo DiCaprio
Berry, UPTOWNflavor, played by a mysterious person seen only from the back of her chair
Lance, Harlem 26.2, played by Mario Van Peebles
Corris & Roxie, Rex in tha City, played by Halle Berry (Corris) and Roxie (Roxie)
Joe, What About The Plastic Animals, played by Jeremy Irons

First scene, character development: It's a great summer Saturday morning, not too hot, and not too humid. Not a cloud in the sky. A montage of all of us in our own apartments turning off alarms and performing morning routines delights the viewers. I'm putting on spandex and pumping up my tires, Lance is stretching and putting on running shorts, Roxie is bouncing around playfully as Corris picks up the leash, Joe is loading a 2MB card into his camera, and then seven more in pockets on his shoulder strap, and Berry is hammering out 72 posts in less than thirty seconds about absolutely every event in Harlem that week, some of which even the event holders themselves don't yet know exist.

Next scene, lead up: We all pass thru our respective front doors. Each of us turns up and looks to the sky before heading for Central Park. We see nothing but pure blue. All of us except Joe that is. He steps out to see a very localized formation of the rare cloud type Cumulo Mammatus (foreshadowing!!!) and proceeds to follow it in the direction of Central Park's Northwest corner.

The action scene: Unaware of each other, we all find ourselves on the Northwest turn of the Central Park loop, a steep incline leading to the great hill. I am determined to keep my cycle's speed above 20 mph, Lance is attacking a set of hill repeats, Joe is chasing the Cumulo Mammatus cloud with camera at the ready, and Roxie has just been let free of her leash and is bounding up to the Dog-apalooza that takes place weekend mornings on Central Park's Great Hill. (If you have a dog, I highly recommend it. Be there before 9am, and your dog can run off leash with tons of other pooch friends.)

As the cloud passes over a tree near the loop, a squirrel uses the momentary darkness as cover in an attempt to run across the road. Roxie sees the squirrel and darts dog-like after it, right into my path! I swerve to miss Roxie, and ram directly into Lance. We roll across the pavement, a mangling mess of skin, spandex, carbon tubing and sweat wicking material.

We then stand facing each other, nether caring about putting Bacitracin on our skinned knees and elbows. The smell of protein dietary products radiates off of our skin. "You, recklessly fast cyclist, are responsible for this," screams Lance. "No you, runner, brought this on by using less physics than I," I retort. We each run straight at the other, and in the last moment, I spring from the platform on my clip-less pedals as Lance springs from a pair of New Balance that are actually made in the US. We each launch a roundhouse kick on the other, whose simultaneous collision leaves Lance and I sprawled on the ground.

"Why don't you ladies get a room," says a jackass teenager standing nearby.

Then Roxie playfully trots past. "The dog is responsible!" we shout in unison. Lance and I turn, ready to unleash a biathlon of force on Corris.

Corris sees us, drops to one knee, and in a single, smooth move pulls a personal-sized can of CS tear gas from her purse. The last thing that I remember before the hot flow cascades across our eyes is Corris' pink dog charm on the can. I think "Wow, that's cute. I wonder if they make a cat version I could get Cheryl." In the next moment, Lance and I are writhing on the tarmac, screaming and clutching our eyes.

"I should snap a photo of this," says Joe, who was standing alongside the action taking considered photos of the cloud. "I could put this on my blog."

Blog? The spray clears from our eyes. Roxie stands at attention. Like a chorus from a Hrotswitha play, Lance, Corris and I all sing "You will put this on your blog?" Joe responds, "Yes, I will put this on my blog." And we retort, "We also have blogs. We will put this on our blogs!"

The cloud disappears.

Last scene, the resolution: Despite our unified intentions to put the event on our blogs right away, Berry somehow finds out about what happened (even before it was done!) and writes about it on UPTOWNflavor. To be kind, she links to each of us.

Berry's post gets picked up by Gothamist, and with the increased site traffic to her blog, which is linked to our blogs, we all buy Lamborghinis using the storm of resulting Google Ad revenue.

Fin.

Of course, I see this being such a hit, that we franchise the thing. In the next film, the five hero bloggers have started the Uptown Lamborghini Club. One night, we get all hyper off of Swiss Miss Cocoa and Joe convinces us to drive to see the World's Largest Ball of Sisal Twine in Cawker City, Kansas, resulting non-stop cross country hilarity.

Posted by Chris at 11:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Cheryl and I were excited to see my uncle Dale this weekend, as he has been so nice to us over the years. For his arrival, we wanted a simple but well matched presentation of cheese and wine. Being that he was taking us to dinner, it was the least we could do.

So I sought the advice of Harlem venues. The woman who counseled me at Harlem Vintage recommended a bottle of Vouvray. She even had one chilled. The woman at Citarella's cheese counter matched the Brut with a fine camembert that, lucky for me, had been sent to the store by accident. Adding a box of Finn Crisps, we were ready for Dale to arrive.

We should have known that Dale would bring us a present, and he did. He presented us with many cheeses, including a smooth French variety that spreads like soft butter, a burrata that came uniquely wrapped in a husk, gorgonzola, and others. Of course, he also brought three wines to match.

With such a wonderful selection, we almost skipped dinner.

Posted by Chris at 09:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Joe Schumacher reminds us with a great photo set that we are currently in the midst of Bike Month, and could be doing a little more about it.

However, he did have two opportunities to catch a photo of me on the west side bike path this past Saturday, and Sunday too. And later this month, I'll be riding to Montauk, but have not decided if I will do the full 147 miles, or wimp out and go for only 100.

So, in preparing my bike for this year's Montauk ride, I took it for the first time to Harlem's New York Cyclist on Cathedral Parkway between Manhattan Avenue and Frederick Douglass Boulevard. They have a spring tune up special for $39.99, which I will post a review of when my bike comes back later this week.

Taking my bike in for a tune up is part of a yearly dance I do where I hem and haw over whether or not I should buy a new bike, or keep riding the one I have, which is a now ten year old mountain bike with road slicks. One side of the argument is that if I actually had a road bike, I might do more long distance rides. The other side is that ten years ago I bought the mountain bike because I broke two forks on a different bike in one month, and since riding the mountain bike, I have not broken one. (The first fork was broke hitting a curb, and the second was broke hitting a cyclist going the wrong way on a bike path- at least I bent his frame in the collision. Dumbass.)

Plus, there is always the extra ego boost of doing what other people do on much lighter bikes and making it look easy. On the 2005 Montauk ride someone rode alongside of me and said that I must be using 20 percent more energy riding my mountain bike. "Good," was my response, "that means I'm stronger."

Posted by Chris at 11:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

With the passing of another month comes a look thru the search strings that brought random Interweb sojourners into our company for a fleeting visit.

For some, their quest for knowledge on the nature of cats and dogs, where to grab a bite in the hood, and filming locations for their favorite shows were answered. For others, we have no idea why they were searching for what they entered, how they thought they would find it here, or why they came back for it multiple times. In fact, we sleep a little less easy simply knowing they think we can satisfy their desires.

The winner for the month of April is: Not one, but two searches from the same person for "karen minton boobs"

Based on some Googling, we have concluded that the Karen Minton in question is a meteorologist for Atlanta station WSB-TV channel 2. Our lascivious searcher didn't just think that there may be a photo of Karen Minton's chest on a Harlem Fur weekend wrap up post once, but twice they clicked on it. You know, they just might be there the second time.

One of the greatest Interweb myths is that any woman on earth with mild notoriety has somewhere, someplace, if you just Google the right phrase, a photo of her exposed breasts. It's not true. Believe me, I have spent many fruitless hours looking for ex-girlfriends.

· I Find Your Search String... Disturbing (February)

Posted by Chris at 03:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Where have the crowds of procrastinators gone?

Are mobs of frantic people begging for stamps, long lines stretching from Postal trucks parked on the street, and people dressed in red, white and blue handing out anti-tax pamphlets at the end of the last day to mail one's taxes a thing of the past, or am I missing something? The sidewalks in front for the Farley post office on 8th Ave at 5 minutes to the postmark deadline were empty not just in comparison to years past, but empty in comparison to an average Tuesday night in Manhattan.

I'll admit that I haven't been to the Farley post office on the night of the tax deadline in a few years. It's not that I didn't try. Last year on tax day, I called a friend quite well known for waiting until the last minute, and asked when he was going to make his yearly rush for the postmark. He, like me, had completed his taxes well in advance. Without someone else or myself having forms to mail, I had the hunch I would feel like the adult guy at the playground who didn't come with a kid.

This year thou, the same thing that had kept me from the yearly ritual, TurboTax, forced me to leave for 34th Street in a slight rush at 11pm. I had been hitting the submit button all evening to make my electronic submission, but every time I did, I was greeted with the little pop-up message asking that I try again in two hours, as Intuit was experiencing a lot of traffic. At a quarter to 11, I realized the message asking for two more hours was no longer a polite little request from a company that greatly underestimated last-minute traffic, but rather a deceptive ploy that would leave me submitting well past the deadline.

A bit pleased I now had an excuse to be a part of the post office mess, I printed and ran out. But when I arrived, there were no long lines snaking out of the building, no street theater, and the one news van that was there sat across the streets with its lights dim.

Sure, there were people in the building, but I could move around, and that didn't seem right.

Posted by Chris at 01:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Today's torrential downpour contributed to the 116th Street C station's unclean version of feng shui with the addition of four natural water falls. It was difficult for me to get a good shot of the falls, although each of them, two on either side of the tracks, continuously rained buckets of dirty street water onto the station's platforms for the entire 15 minutes I stood waiting for a train. This shot was my best, as it kinda catches both on the uptown side. The first fall is there on the right of the sign, and way back in the distance is the second, appearing like a fuzzy line.

The 116th Street C station is probably the most disgusting place I have repetitively entered on purpose. And this distinction was awarded the locale even before today's street water splashing drove the grime index* past the threshold of noticeable difference.

Years ago, when I first walked into the station, I paused and thought 'my mother would never understand.' But, as time wears on, I have become somewhat unfazed by things that pre-New York living would have scared me for life. Thankfully, I have moments like today, when something a bit more foul than normal makes me reassess certain surroundings and think 'yeah, I'm standing in a real shithole.'

*The grime index, which would be part of the filth report, is my idea of what should replace the summer weather report in NYC. Being that pretty much every summer day is hot and sunny, I think a segment on the morning newscast detailing how much filth is out there (street fair aftermath, a rash of especially negligent dog owners not scooping, nomadic homeless encampments), and to what extent external factors are amplifying the filth, called the grime index, would be much more helpful.

Posted by Chris at 11:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Course Description

To the untrained ear, all neighborhood-based screaming can sound alike. This course provides in-depth analysis and discussion on all major forms of nabe screaming, including celebratory, combative, amorous, inebriated, faith-based, companion animal, and simple energy release. Drawing on years of Cheryl and Chris' participant-observation studies conducted in various Manhattan neighborhoods from Hell's Kitchen to Inwood, in addition to suburban Long Island, this course places major emphasis on training students to quickly determine what reason is behind any current screaming. This course includes a mandatory lab that meets twice weekly in the evening.

SCE 4103 fills the prerequisite for SCE 4507, Who's Discharging A Firearm For What Reason Now?

Although I am sure Cheryl and I are not the only Manhattanites who have more terms for distinguishing between nuances of screaming than Inuits have terms for distinguishing between types of snow, we feel well-versed enough in them to warrant a continuing education class for recent transplants to the city. I see our full program, which will include SCE 4507, Who's Discharging A Firearm For What Reason Now? and SCE 4557, WFT Is Going On Out There? being popular with companies relocating employees to NYC.

Some of my favorite screaming case studies are:

Q- Guests asking "Why is that man standing on the corner of 116th screaming all day with a microphone?"
A- Faith-based

Q- Neighbor directly below me in a previous Harlem apartment asking why I go "UGGGGGGH" upon climaxing
A- It's actually the boyfriend of the woman across the hall from me, as for some reason sound traveled down diagonally in that place (and really, I don't want to know the answer)

Q- My asking Cheryl why I can hear a woman in Long Island in a home a ways away scream "I can't take it any more! The crying, the wining! I want this! I want that!"
A- Children (not her cat, which I immediately thought due to our having Cimbi)

Q- Cheryl asking "What's wrong?" when I randomly emit screams of pain
A- Cimbi biting me because I am writing about her on this blog rather than playing with her

Posted by Chris at 12:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

There is a reason an ad for the Fur's hosting company is there at the top of the page. Uh, they paid for it. But more than that, the Fur is proud to have Haus Interactive's ad at the top, and today provides an example why.

I largely approve comments for Harlem Fur via emails sent to my phone, as I seriously get a lot of enjoyment seeing them pop up during the day (usually from Melita, Berry and Tanya). Even with some fairly professional grade defenses, I expect 10 or so spam submissions to make it throu the filters a day, which is no big deal.

However, this afternoon my phone started to beep like a 1980's video game and in the blink of an eye I had 40 odd spam submissions and counting. I was already taking off from the office a bit early due to a disorienting head cold, and did not have the concentration to figure out how to stop this. So, I sent a message to Haus, and in less than 5 minutes everything was right and nice. Amazing.

So just to be sure all is good, tonight I included a small addition below the text field for submitting a comment, which will also make them appear instantly if all checks out. For anyone else out there using Movable Type, I highly recommend this addition.

On a side note, when searching for an image of spam to include in this post, I noticed, based on Google searches, that every blog on earth at some point covers the topic of being spammed. Consider this requirement for the Fur done and checked.

Posted by Chris at 12:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

BABY!!!

Continue reading "CHERYL IS PREGNANT!" »

Posted by Chris at 01:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I really can't explain how this happened, so I will leave that out.

I have been invited by Moscow Conservatory-trained pianist and President of the Cultural Center of Kazakhstan in the U.S. Alia Alhan Mal'keeva to speak briefly this Saturday evening at the Kazakh New Year's festival at Lincoln Center, "From Kazakhstan With Love." It's a unique, if somewhat peculiar, honor to take the Allen Room stage at the Time Warner Center and acknowledge Kazakh contributions in music, dance, and other fields to an audience that will include the Kazakh ambassador.

Something makes me think that this was intended for Cimbi, and somehow the two of us were mixed up along the way. After all, she is the one with international exposure.

Anyway, aside from myself, the attractions will include, among others, Prima Ballerina and Miss Kazakhstan Saule Rachmedova, pop folk group URKER, and Alia Alhan Mal'keeva herself.

Tickets can be purchased through the Jazz at Lincoln Center website.

And, if anyone has any suggestions for what I should say, your contributions will be greatly appreciated.

Posted by Chris at 11:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

When in Albany today, I had a chance to view Lincoln's original draft of the Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation. And ashamed that I am to admit it, I didn't know there were two Emancipation Proclamations.

Lincoln's Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation was written in July of 1862. In this document, Lincoln warned the Confederate states that if they remained in rebellion against the United States for a period of more than 100 days, he would free all slaves within their borders on January 1, 1863. (New York had already freed slaves within its borders in 1827.)

Lincoln held off on issuing the document until after a major Union victory, which he was given at the Antietam battle on September 17th of that year.

As promised in the Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation, Lincoln freed all slaves in the Confederate states with the Final Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863.

The draft of the Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation is encased in a nitrogen environment and held by the state legislature, who let it be shown only a few days every year to keep it preserved. The final copies of both Emancipation Proclamations are in the National Archives in D.C.

Posted by Chris at 11:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm often interested to see the search engine phrases that brought people to Harlem Fur. Aside from finding out what drew people to this site, it gives a particular insight into other people's curiosities.

Trying to find out where The Black Donnelys was filmed? Here is one location.

Is Zoma everything the reviews make it out to be? We had an enjoyable dinner.

Is there an Aphrodite Cleaners nearby? Ummm, yeah.

And then you get stuff like this: "condom digestion of dogs." I am guessing here, but did Fido find a treat he was not supposed to have?

Condoms in the photo above courtesy of Harlem State Senator Bill Perkins from his recent inauguration ceremony at Harlem Hospital.

Posted by Chris at 04:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Tuesday, November 7th, at 9pm, my 15 plus hour work days, 7 days a week, will cease. Four months ago, I was apathetic about this year's campaign season, but tonight I sit here sad to see it coming to an end. The candidate is an exceptional person, and just as important, so are my team members. Few people can make me want to get up at 5am when I went to bed at midnight after a full day. I will sincerely miss working with them.

Although a volume or two's worth of things took place on this campaign, it's better to keep my professional experiences off of the web until the election closes. However, I think what happened today can slide past my self- censorship.

I went to a supporter's home this evening with no more fanfare than should I be going to the local diner. I casually called her by her first name, Monica, when asking for directions on the phone, was angry when I ended up lost nonetheless, and was hoping to get back to the office before I even arrived. The only consequence was that, her last name being Getz, I decided to play a Stan Getz CD on the drive over.

The CD choice was appropriate.

I ended up spending an evening with a small group of people in the home of the late Stan Getz with Monica, his former wife. Of course, I didn't realize this until 45 minutes into the evening. It's not like the signs weren't there; there was the jazz room, an acoustic wonder that can hold a small choir, and jazz played in the background as guests entered the home. I'm blaming my lack of sense on lack of sleep.

The home is amazing. It shames most European castles. And Monica is amazing. Warm with a glow of confidence, she made everyone feel completely at ease. She enjoyed finding out that I am from Minnesota, as she has worked to export to Sweden one of the state's best products: Hazelden's effective chemical dependency programs.

I am very much looking forward to going to her holiday party this year.

Posted by Chris at 01:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As long as The Fur has had two postings on excreta, why not round it out with a third? After all, three is an esthetically pleasing number. Then we will be done with this genre, and move back to more appropriate things like cats in parks. I swear.

Someone reminded me today of a bizarre sight on the porch of our 4th of July rental in the Finger Lakes region. Hanging along one wall under the porch roof was a wind chime consisting of five metal birds hanging off of a medium-sized metal bell. This would not be note worthy itself, except for the fact that there were real bird droppings directly below.

The droppings would make sense if birds could somehow perch on the chime, or if the chime itself had droppings on it from birds perching above, or if the droppings were metal like the chime. None of these conditions were the case.

Posted by Chris at 06:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

My brother, Senior Airman Eric Cullen in the Air Guard, sends everyone a big Happy Fourth of July. He is on his way to Mississippi, where he will be until late August, training at Keesler Air Force Base and helping to rebuild the coast.

Whereas most of us will be celebrating our country's independence by trying to blow up a small part of it with the biggest fireworks we can find, my brother hopes to take part in rebuilding the Gulf Coast where it was hit hard in the last hurricane season. He wants to remind everyone that in addition to New Orleans' destruction, good people all along the coast were affected.

Eric also has a lighter side. In his free time, he's a stand-up comic working to promote other comics. He is also producing a podcast that will cover, in addition to comedy, his experiences this summer in hurricane-ravaged areas. Check him out on MySpace.

Posted by Chris at 03:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)