PvWvC II

Guess who got all up in our loftpieces again this week. CYNTHIA, bitches! Cynthia visiting Billywick means many things (big sloppy dinners, half asleep movie watching, towels everywhere) but honestly, it's still all about gorgeous pictures of me and Woods.

I don't have any pictures of her so here's a list of reasons why Cynthia knocks me and Woody out like a 7-10 split:

1.) She can layer on 6 shades of blue.
2.) She supposedly can cook Chinese food.
3.) She makes our bathroom smell good.
4.) The Hills.
5.) Bootlegs.
6.) She documents everything including herself documenting herself (in a mirror).
7.) She has 9 blogs.
8.) She has 10 blogs.
9.) This is one of them.

Hey, I found a picture of her.

*Sidenote. The couple making out thought I took a picture of them and the guy slowly rotated all "Dude." Sorry I interrupted French Class, lovers! Look at Cynthia.

Happy Only Comes In One Color...

green eggs and DAAAAAMN! from Woods on Vimeo.

PvWvCvH combo joint. Props to Woods who remembered the actual names of every dance move.

After our party

We cleaned!

2 videos we like:

PATRICK


WOODY

PvWvC

Cynthia was all up in our lofticles this past week. New Roommate! Here's how it went down.

Day 1: Cynthia arrives! She helps me fold my clothes before bed.
Day 2 - Day 7: Cynthia gets so sick she can't even say things.

She was sick past the point of scary and it actually became funny again. I'd forget she'd be dead on the couch and I'd make a joke about something and this pile of blankets would let out a chuckle. Sometimes it looked like the couch was eating her.


But in the end it was great having Cynthia live with us; she brought a suitcase filled almost entirely with ripped DVDs. She and I split a whole package of turkey bacon for breakfast one day. She gave Woody decorating tips for his treehouse. But the best part of the PvWvC triad was having a third person to take pictures of me and Woody together so we don't have to just take pictures of each other. Silly. But true.

This is Cynthia being mad sick on the way to breakfast.

Memorable Cynthia quotes:
"Major League has a perfect story arc."

She says great things all the time but that's all I can remember.

Now she's off to Park Slope. Goodbye, C-Town!

Woods delivers The Goods

MOMA Time

Advice for MOMA-wanting-to-go-for-free-ers: Friday from 4-8 it's free, but it's actually a scam because line is so ridiculously long that people end up just paying the $$ anyways. UNLESS you go at 7 when it's relatively mellow. You only get an hour, but it's still free son! Also, don't bring your laptop unless you want to spend the day walking around with it because they have some BS insurance policy that doesn't allow them to hold on to any electronics at the coat check.

We ostensibly went for the George Lois exhibit, but it actually was so tiny we ended up wandering around for 40 minutes. Basically, the NY Times slideshow gives away everything you need to see.

I also am not sure whether or not I like the color-desaturated area of the MOMA:



Here's Patrick and me with some priceless art:

Eating Tools

Look who doesn't need to eat with wooden spoons anymore. This is the Coolest Drawer in the House.



In other news, we're being framed by some garbage dumping neighbors who are using our end of the hallway as the "Broken Glass & Bags of Shitty Clothes Chill Out Zone." Not cool, People Who Live Right Next To Us. The folks on our floor think we're messy, when actually, our shit is so damn tight, our silverware drawer is essentially a tiny Studio 54 for utensils.

This does not bode well

Our first encounter with our lovely neighbors came when we were wrapping up construction of our lofts. We put our leftover wood outside in the hallway for a few days, and were met with warmth and grace:


No your eyes do not deceive you, that is in fact graffiti scribbled into the side of our loft. I'll spare you the crude rendition of the a bedbug drunkenly smeared on the floor, as well as the hilarious and touching "thanks for the free wood" graffiti, but suffice it to say I am pretty guarded when dealing with any of our neighbors. Except for the family with a baby next to us. And the girl who lives down the hall. Unless she did it. In which case I hate her.

Then I googled "250 Moore Brooklyn" and the first thing that came up is this, which actually makes our insane neighbors 4% justified.

Grrr.

But we're having our party in less a month! Not grrr!

Tightness Now

It's a loft? No. It's a 9 Star Hotel and here's mutherfuckin' why:


Work stations! This where Woodson and I spend hours illustrating, After Effectsing, designing, and editing. Not Bluetoothing text documents to one another. Definitely not e-mailing each other.

DJ Booth!

Living Room! Note the twin televisions, twin coffee tables, and twin embarrassing DVD collections. Dealing with our redundancies doesn't make any sense. There is a tentative plan to put one TV on top of the fridge, which DOES make sense. Also... for real, does anyone want a coffee table?

What? You don't have a walk-in closet? No? Not even underneath your bed? That's funny. I got this one but it's like sort of whatever. p.s. twin ACs.

Oh, but shit. The Scarlet Letter of Bushwick. Thanks for the house-warming note, anonymous neighbors. Honeymoon over? (yes)

Loftecles

A video tour of our loft, unconsciously conducted while walking around and talking to C-Town on the phone. Also, I make tea at one point.

Welcome Home, Bitches!

This is what building a loft inside of a loft looks like. Two, actually.


Check out this sweet B-Boy space pre-loftification.

Woody already had his walls up when I decided I wanted a second window on mine.

There's mine. Our closets are underneath.

Woody's treehouse.


In the span of a week, we took one room and made it three! And by we, I mean two guys both named Jeff. Now the only things standing in our way are the billions of tiny plaster dust particles that settle in our lungs every night as we sleep in our new tiny rooms within a room. That and a lack of eating tools...