B & H Dairy

WHO: your classic diner lovin' self

WHAT: your old school 'beards and hats' kosher diner; staffed with overly charming Latin servers and severe, but loving, Russian ladies who shove a glass of pureed beets at you and command you to dreeenk.

WHEN: mid afternoon is best.

WHERE: 2nd Ave, between 7th and St. Mark's Place.

WHY: Because sometimes, you want to feel like you live in the East Village of the early 90's, where old Jewish guys in tweed coats sit at lunch counters flicking their papers over a cuppa black coffee. You want a bowl of real, delicious Matzo ball soup for less than it costs to take the train. You want the waitress you call you 'honey' and you want to hear the specials even though you know you just want the 'usual' (a big, fat tuna melt on Challah bread). It's all here.

HINT: Tuna melt on Challah bread. With Matzo ball soup. The best thing in the world.

I give it:

/ 10

TEN (!!!) OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES

Vacations Gone Awry

WHO: my vacation-lovin' self.

WHAT: Flew back to the west coast with boyfriend, went to a wedding, retrieved car, filled car to the brim with stuff from storage unit, drove 3,000 back to New York City

WHEN: last week

WHERE: AMERICA.

WHY: 'Cause I thought that my boyfriend's 1992 Subaru Legacy (yessss) would be just fine driving 3,000 miles. And I thought that taking a bunch of vitamins and drinking 'smartwater' would ensure that I would not come down with the plague and remain sick my ENTIRE vacation. I also, stupidly, overlooked the possibility that the car would completely quit working seventy miles outside of Missoula, Montana. And that we would spend almost a grand on a rental car to get me, the boyfriend and all of our stuff the remaining 2,500 miles. Oh and did I mention that we ran out of time and at one point had to drive for 36 hours straight and I drank a bunch of energy shots and got cracked out and hit a raccoon and started crying? Yeah.

HINT: Don't leave the keys to your car in the care of your pizza delivery friend for three months. He WILL drive that car into the ground and all you will get out of it is some mummified pepperonis in the back seat.

I give it:

 / 10

NEGATIVE SIX OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES

Wasabi

WHO: your noodle lovin' self.
WHAT: Wasabi, your friendly neighborhood Japanese noodle/sushi/teriyaki spot
WHEN: Afternoons, grab some sushi 'to go' and head to McCarren Park. Or stay in with some Netflix and order Wasabi delivery (only a $10 minimum!)
WHERE: 638 Manhattan Avenue. (where Bedford meets Manhattan Ave). Greenpoint. But I don't know if I would ever dine in at this place. Its a little grimy in there. 'To go' or delivery is the best bet.
WHY: Because sometimes, you need a huge cheap pile of noodles.

HINT: Get the tempura appetizer plate ($6.25). Those fried veggies instantly cured my hangover. They definitely know how to do their hot stuff here: tempura, Yaki Udon noodles ($9.50), and Soyu Ramen ($8.00) were all perfect. My little avocado sushi roll ($3.25) was nothing to write home about, and I've heard rumors that their sushi is sorta sub-par. So, avoid the sushi here, but GET YOUR NOODLES ON!

I give it:

/ 10

FIVE OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES

Ordering Delivery Food Online

WHO: your lazy ass self
WHAT: ordering food online. i.e.: GrubHub.com, Seamless.com, Delivery.com
WHEN: whenever, but especially necessary while laying in your bed after being sent home from work because you look like a pile of poo. AKA hungover.
WHERE: the INTERWEBZ
WHY: It was one of those days where I had the monster hangover of all hangovers. I decided that I needed NOODLES and I needed them now. The interwebz are a thing of glory. Entire menus online, with descriptions of delicious noodle-y items (and other types of cuisine), the ability to pay ahead of time with a credit card, and, the option to post your entire delivery order to Facebook to show your friends how much food you are about to shove into your pie hole. I declined to share this information.

HINT: The only downside is that you don't get an estimate on your delivery time. On the upside, you can sort your search results by 'Top Rated' (important, so you don't accidentally order from one of those greasy little Chinese restaurants that is named Chinese Restaurant.) and 'Open Now' (very important).

I give it:

/ 10

EIGHT OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES

Tomcats Barbershop

WHO: your hairy self
WHAT: Tomcats Barbershop! Part hipster hangout, part badass hair-cuttin' dude den. THEY GIVE YOU A BEER WHILE YOU WAIT. Really!
WHEN: 11am - 9pm most days. 1pm is a good time for a haircut.
WHERE: 135 India Street. India & Manhattan. Greenpoint.
WHY: Because you realize that your hair is so gross and overgrown that you have started coming up with various methods of hiding aforementioned folicles. Like 'turbans'. Also, you haven't bought shampoo in five months because 'what's the point?' You might consider dunking your head in the water at Rockaway Beach both a washing and a styling. In fact, the last time you can recall someone coming at your head with styling scissors was in a hotel room in Portland and there was a lot of vodka and gay men involved.

HINT: You should make an appointment, even though they don't tell you that on the website. And if you are a lady, like me (Don't laugh!), make sure to find out when the hair-cuttin' dudes who cut ladies' hair are working. Mark did my hair it is AWESOME.

I give it:
/ 10
SEVEN OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES

The Meatball Shop

WHO: your meaty little self.
WHAT: meatballs. and lots of 'em.
WHEN: late night. till 4 am on weekends!
WHERE: 170 Bedford Ave
WHY: 'Cause, sometimes late at night, you just want a pile of balls. They got beef balls, pork ones, even huge round veggie guys. You can get them on a mound of noodles or on a sandwich. So many options. I love balls.

HINT: Ask about the special 'ball' of the day. Also they serve beer by the half glass. Which, let's be honest, might be all you really need by the time you stumble to the Meatball Shop at 3:27am.

I give it:
/ 10
SIX OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES

My POS phone

DISCLAIMER: I will be using a lot of parenthetical side notes in this post. Get ready for some ranting.

WHO: my technologically dependent self
WHAT: my piece of scrap 'Android' phone. Something called a 'HTC Eris.' Alternate spellings: possibly 'Aris.' Or 'Aeryz.' I don't know.
WHEN: Currently. Oh, no, I don't mean that I'm using this cellular device at this very second to do anything as high tech as accessing the internet. No, because the battery died four hours ago. No, don't worry, it lasted for an entire three hours and forty-eight minutes. And that was after I charged it twice today. And after I waited three weeks for it to come in the mail. And after I ordered an entirely different phone and paid hundreds of dollars for it.
WHERE: Sears.com is not the place to buy phones.
WHY: Because I thought an android phone would mean that I could do things such as use Google maps (the screen is too small to really navigate), check my e-mail (the e-mail program is buggy and refuses to let me scroll down to read my entire message), surf the web (somehow I never have any service bars and the 3G is really slow), or even have the luxury of updating my status on Facebook (forget using the Facebook app, it crashes every time I open it). But no. I am limited to calling people (but don't worry, there is no such thing as a button for 'contacts,' instead you must search your entire phone and tear your hair out just trying to figure out how to call someone) and texting them (yesterday my 'text messaging program froze unexpectedly' and refused to open up again). And once and a while, you might have an app or a game that you downloaded actually work. But don't get your hopes up.

HINT: THROW THIS DEVICE OFF THE HIGHEST BUILDING YOU CAN FIND.

I give it:
 / 10

NEGATIVE FIVE OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES