Brother and I did some skipping in the rain this afternoon to check out some places we hadn’t been to before. Well, I skipped, and Peter hobbled. First, we sold some books to the Strand. I got a whooping $15! Which I spent on the train getting home and lunch. So it was sort of counter-productive.
Then we headed to the new UrbanSpace Meatpacking that’s just popped up by Chelsea Market. It’s the same company that puts on Dekalb Market, Mad Sq. Eats and the Holiday Market at Union Square. The tents are full of handmade jewelry, clothing and delicious food. I’ve been craving the “Bee Sting” pizza since the last time I ate Roberto’s so I jumped for joy when I saw it. We also sampled jalepeno-honey-grapefruit soda. It tasted exactly like it sounds. Strange. Instead we got apple-ginger soda.
After lunch, we walked around the fashion district, stopping in stores like Alexander McQueen and hitting up a sample sale, until Peter couldn’t walk another step and we had to stop for donuts.
Doughnut Plant is donut CaRazy! The walls are covered in pillow donuts, the benches are donuts, the tables, everything except the bathroom which was tiled mirrors with a disco ball. We tried out the peach donut and cantaloup juice. The donut was pretty good, the cantaloup juice was okay, it tasted exactly like cantaloup… so I’m not sure why I got it.
The day was almost over and I had yet to let a dog lick my face, so we ducked into a pet store so I could love on some puppies. I asked if any of the puppies needed some attention, but before he could even answer I locked eyes with the most adorable english bulldog I’ve ever seen.
He set me up in a play area with the pup and the only rule of “Do not pick the dog up”. What kind of rule is that? How am I supposed to love all over it and let it lick my face if I can’t have it in my arms and strangle it with my snuggles?? I mostly followed the rules while we played for the next half hour.
When we left I asked brother, “What should I name him?”
Him – “What should you name him? The dog you just left at the pet store? Nothing! You should NOT name the dog at the pet store”
Me – “But then how will I refer to him when I talk about him or on the blog, or years from now when I mention him in passing? He needs a name. Hmm. Rover? Grover? Roomba? Chubby, flabby, what’s that whale from the movie?”
Him – Don’t name the dog from the pet store!
Me – “Willy! Like Free Willy! Because he laid on the floor like a beached whale. And Prince William, he’s British”
Him – That’s something crazy people do, I’m telling you not to name the dog at the pet store.”
Me – “Uh, Willie was so cute, I miss him already.”
And a puppy video!
Sigh, can someone go adopt Willy? I’ll puppysit for free!