Hi, how are you? What did you do this weekend? Me? Oh, I just survived my first blizzard.
(It wasn’t actually very dramatic.) Devin and I went out for a walk on Friday night in the middle of it. Because my neighborhood has many, many street lamps, we could see the snowflakes falling very clearly. It felt like being in a snow globe or a cartoon or a child’s painting of a snowy night. We walked around for a while and attempted to have a snowball fight, but my lack of experience turned it into a lesson instead. I made considerable progress, though, so next time it snows, watch out.
Walking back to my apartment, we encountered a TV crew on my block! I asked the cameraperson if they were filming the snow (‘Isn’t everyone?’, he replied) and why they had chosen my little corner of Brooklyn. It turns out the guy who drives the TV truck is a regular at a bar near my street, and it’s a good idea to film near a place that will let the crew use the bathroom. Kind of like I sometimes plan my commute to pass a Starbucks for the free bathrooms.
TV People: They’re Just Like Us.
The next day I asked Devin to take some commemorative pictures.
Pretending I’m too cool for the camera.Much snow!Subtract the chain-link and buildings, and this could be a remote tundra.
Shoutout to all the hardworking people who kept the sidewalks and subway entrances near me safe, and thereby helped make my first snowstorm experience a success. I’m very grateful.
Tonight I went to Trader Joe’s (boy, do I wish this were a sponsored post. It’s not).
First, I made an enemy of the girl with fuchsia lipstick because I stopped in my tracks to compliment her. She gave me such a LOOK that I didn’t even get to tell her that the reason I stopped is that her lipstick looked awesome, and that outfit was on-point, and it takes a very special person to pull off fuchsia. Fuchsia Girl, if you are reading, please know I didn’t mean to block your access to the hummus! I would never do that!
I was disappointed because the sample food was deep-dish pepperoni pizza. I remembered that at my Trader Joe’s in Portland, the employees would always have vegan/vegetarian snacks on-hand whenever they served meat samples. But this is New York, and in New York, you can give out any kind of sample and people will eat it. So probably these Traders don’t even know how many people they alienated with that pepperoni. Also, they almost certainly don’t care. But it’s okay because we’re all too busy becoming what dreams are made of to get hung up on these things, right?
At this Trader Joe’s you have to get in a line that loops around the store, next to a Trader holding an “END OF LINE” flag. Then, you wait to get sorted into three lanes to be further directed to one of the thirty cash registers. The three lanes each have a flag above them: one is a bunch of grapes, one is a wedge of cheese, and one is a steak. I don’t really like waiting in line, especially because you always get jostled by people who are still shopping, and I get worried that they are going to try to cut after they grab that tub of yogurt (so far nobody has cut in front of me, so let’s all have faith in humanity). But when I get to the front I get excited about being sorted, and I pretend the classification has some deeper meaning.
If I get grapes, I try—but fail—to remember when they are in season and send happy vibes to the United Farm Workers, Dolores Huerta, and César Chavez.
If I get cheese, I smile because it reminds me of how much I love Devin and cheesehead hats.
If I get steak, I remember how medium-rare steak was my favorite food when I was ten and how cool it is that my mom didn’t make me order from the kids’ menu if I didn’t feel like it.
Tonight I got steak and was sent to register 26.
At register 26 I impressed Trader Harry* with my most prized possession:
This NPR tote bag.
Harry loves NPR, like me, but his favorite show is ‘The Takeaway’, which is one of the few shows I have never heard. He scoffs at ‘Morning Edition’ and ‘All Things Considered’ because ‘they just don’t compare’.
Harry has a girlfriend who tap-dances, and when he talks about her, his face lights up.
Harry makes sure you get entered in the raffle for free groceries if you bring your own bag.
Harry guesses I always buy more groceries than I can comfortably carry because of a number of things: ‘the quality of the food, the prices––you know you’re getting a good deal, so it’s worth the sacrifice’.
Harry knows that the official closing time of his store is 10 PM. But he let me in on a little secret, and if you read all of this, you deserve to know it, too:
If you get there at 9:55, you can take your time and shop in peace!
Reporting live from a city where you need a strategy to buy groceries,
kristy
A few weeks ago, my cousins Vanessa and Josh came to visit me. When I asked Vanessa what they wanted to do, she said, ‘Christmas stuff’ and also ‘more Christmas stuff’, so that’s what we did (it didn’t take a lot of arm-twisting). And when the weekend was over, I thought, ‘Hey, this would make a great little Christmas tour of New York’. I called up Vanessa to ask her if she wouldn’t mind writing up a little something about what we did, and after just the tiniest bit of begging, she agreed. So now, without further anticipation, I present for your consideration…
The First Official smoothliminal Guide to Christmas Time in the City
(Commentary by Vanessa. All pictures from Google because it’s Christmas and we’re busy.)
1. Candle Café (at 75th Street & 3rd Avenue, Upper East Side)
Kristy’s philosophy is that everyone should eat at the smallest restaurant possible when they visit New York, so we went to Candle Café, which is adorable and tiny. Tiny! Clearly this perspective is influenced by my current address in the wide and spacious southwest, but I was impressed that they manage to produce such good food and attentive service in what is basically a hallway. Also, my sister-in-law had her first ever vegan meal and loved it, so clearly our visit was an epic success.
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2. FAO Schwarz (at 59th Street and 5th Avenue, Upper East Side)
Then we made our way to FAO Schwarz (and not, as my father-in-law assumed when pulling up, to the Apple store… to which 5/8 of the occupants of the van exclaimed “You don’t know me!” and tried to hide their iPhones). We were half-and-half divided on whether it’s cool for FAO Schwarz to sell “BYOB” cans to small children (“Bring Your Own [gummy] Bears”––so funny! So not appropriate! See, I’m still conflicted).
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3. Rockefeller Tree (on 50th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues, Midtown)
To conclude our evening, we made our annual pilgrimage to the Rockefeller Tree. This is my fourth year running, and this year’s visit compared favorably to other years in the ‘weather’ category (it wasn’t freezing!) but less favorably in the ‘exciting events observed’ category because last year we witnessed a marriage proposal on the skating rink. Although this year we did watch a pair of MARRIED Cuban men unsuccessfully try to pick up a pair of not-born-yesterday Mexican women (¡bien hecho, mujeres!).
•
4. Murray’s Bagels (at 13th Street and 6th Avenue)
One interesting tidbit I learned about NYC living this time around? Apparently many New Yorkers don’t start their workday till, like, way late. So even though we didn’t get to Murray’s Bagels for breakfast until 9:30, we were still just in time for the breakfast rush! My review: delicious, and huge.
•5. The Highline (on 8th-10th Avenues, between West 14th and West 30th Streets)
So, one time my sister-in-law really, really wanted to take us to the Highline. She talked about it all day. But then, when we got there in the evening, it was closed. Ever since, I’ve been super curious to go to this little park, and we finally did, and it was amazing. Quotable moment from the Highline: we saw the side of a building covered in what looked like mirror and rusted metal, prompting Kristy to exclaim, ‘Oh! I read about this. It’s art.’
•
6. Ice-skating in Bryant Park (on 42nd Street between 5th and 6th Avenues)
Here’s what you need to know about ice skating in Bryant Park (or anywhere, probably): MAKE SURE YOUR SKATES ARE LACED TIGHT. We didn’t figure this out until we were almost finished and Josh’s legs are still recovering from the war-wounds. Also, I didn’t realize how smooth and wonderful this ice is until I went ice skating at an uncovered rink in downtown Phoenix that’s essentially a piece of plywood with a veeeryyy thin layer of ice on top. New Yorkers, you have it so good. This was the most Christmassy thing we did in New York, what with the ice, the Christmas songs playing, and the general mood of festivity and cheer. I loved it.
•
7. Bryant Park Holiday Market (on 42nd Street between 5th and 6th Avenues)
After skating, we were starving so we ate the most delicious arepas and soup. Kristy also introduced us to kombucha (or whatever it’s called), which tasted… healthy.
•
8. Zara (on 42nd Street at 5th Avenue)
After lunch, we hit up Zara for some Christmas shopping. Normally I adore Zara, but I’m extremely displeased with the company at the moment because I bought a skirt with the cheapest zipper known to man that broke the first time I wore it. Oh yes, I did just blog about it, Zara customer service!
•
9. Grand Central Station (at 42nd Street and Park Avenue)
We had time for one more thing before we headed to the airport, so we went to check out Grand Central Station. At this point things started to get a little rush-y, but we did take a minute to pick out the constellations on the ceiling and take pictures and generally admire the building.
•
10. Magnolia Bakery (on the lower level of Grand Central, 42nd Street and Park Avenue)
For the very last of our adventures in the city, Kristy treated us to not one but TWO treats from Magnolia bakery, because that’s just the kind of person she is. One hop over the subway gate later (what? it wouldn’t let me through and the train was leaving! I swiped my card, I swear) and we were Jersey-bound. You know how sometimes when you’re saying goodbye to someone it’s better to do it in a mad dash of packages and coats and two flights of subway stairs so you don’t cry? This was one of those times. We love you, Kiki! Can’t wait to see you at Christmas!
•Visit Vanessa’s blog here: holasunshine.wordpress.com
Merry Christmas, everyone!
P.S. Don’t worry if you can’t make it to New York by tomorrow, the best part about Christmas in the city is that it lasts well into January.
P.P.S. Let me know if any of these pictures are yours. I’ll happily credit the photographers or remove them.
Like I mentioned previously, I’ve been working as a temp(orary office assistant).
I recently finished an assignment at a historical society. That office is filled with archivists who wear blue smocks and write in pencil–and not mechanical pencils either, the yellow wooden ones that need sharpening. And guess whose desk was the Official Home of the Office’s Only Electric Sharpener. Yes! Mine (how did you guess?). I really liked that honor because it meant that sometimes I got to talk to the archivists who are generally a quiet and reserved bunch.
I got to know quite a few people in the office, actually, and once suggested that we order lunch from a nearby restaurant, which caused quite the commotion. We talked about it one day at lunch, and word spread around the office, and the next day six employees came prepared, with cash in hand. The restaurant has this on-line order form that you use to pick the ingredients in your meal, and that morning my desk was transformed into an Order Kiosk abuzz with people comparing Brown Rice to Veggie Brown Rice, and discussing the merits of Cauliflower and Cabbage. Even those who weren’t ordering gathered around, voiced their opinions, and witnessed the miracle of ordering lunch. And the best part is that at lunch, people actually talked to each other.
On-line Order Form
And for days after, people talked about the lunch. I got asked what I ordered and if it was any good and if I would recommend the restaurant. Some people told me it had been A Great Idea.
A few weeks later, it was my last day. Two of my favorite co-workers took me to lunch at Coffee Shop, a restaurant in Union Square that fascinates me. Its décor is so mid-century that you almost feel transported to a 1950s American diner only most of the servers are aspiring models, so they all wear the trendiest clothes and artfully mussed hair, embodying everything that is ‘Now’. And oh yeah, the menu is largely Brazilian food (?!).
We had a good lunch and at the end I told them how much I’d liked working there. They in turn told me how much they’d liked working with me. Then, one of them said, ‘The office will be so quiet!’ and the other nodded fervently.
This week while shopping at the Union Square farmers’ market, I heard the joyful sound of Hare Krishna devotees chanting and playing musical instruments.
The first time I heard the Hare Krishna mantra was actually on my First Real Date. It was the first time a Boy picked me up in a Car and drove on the Highway to take me to a Restaurant that he had Planned to take me to. You know, a real deal grown-up date. He even ironed his shirt before putting it on. I know this because his best friend informed me of the fact at school on Monday.
My mom was super chill about the whole thing. If you know my mom at all, even if you have just met her for twenty seconds, you would expect her to take pictures to document the momentous occasion, but nope. She might have told him to drive safely, but that’s all. No big fanfare. It was like she held back all her motherly love and concern to let me practice being an adult.
We went to a vegetarian restaurant attached to a Hare Krishna temple called Kalachandji’s (pronounced “kahl-la chand-ees”. Say it out loud, it’s important to the rest of the story). The food was delicious and the restaurant was beautiful. I’ve only been back once since then, but I remember the taste of the tamarind drink, the smell of flowers and hanging plants, the big stone fountain, and all the little candles flickering on courtyard tables.
When I got home my mom asked me where we’d gone. I told her the name of the restaurant (kahl-la chand-ees, remember?) and went to bed.
A few years later I told my mom I wanted to take her Kalachandji’s (kahl-la chand-ees, though surely you’ve said it out loud by now) because I’ve never found a more ethereal restaurant.
She looked at me square in the eye and said, “Okay okay, tell me about where you went on your first date”.
“This place called Kalachandji’s”.
“Yes, tell me about ‘College Undies’ “, she said, her eyes wide with worry.
Can you believe it? For YEARS, my poor mother thought I had my First Date at some sort of knockoff Hooters! I can imagine how I would react if one of my younger cousins told me someone took her to a restaurant designed to encourage the objectification of young wimyn. I’m pretty sure I would give her the third degree quicker than you can bat an eyelash. I’d probably also hunt down that boy and give him a mile-long feminist reading list.* In the process, I might lose my cousin’s trust for good. In short, I’d have the exact opposite reaction that my mom had. My mom trusted me.
And that’s how we know my mom is a Cool Mom, through and through.
*Susan J. Douglas’s Enlightened Sexismwould top the list. Douglas asks, “How can The Bachelor have survived to a thirteenth edition? How is Hooters still in business?” And why aren’t more people asking these questions?
On Friday I treated myself to a burrito bowl from Chipotle (no endorsement implied). Since I was by myself, I either got to witness a love story unfold or just eavesdropped on the people sitting at the next table. Your interpretation depends on how much you like to dramatize real life, and we all know where I stand on that.
The people sitting there were a guy and a girl in their late teens. And the guy contingent (let’s call him Sam) pulled out all the stops to impress his date (let’s call her Jamie). Like, I’m pretty sure he paid for her food and didn’t even give her a hard time about ordering a salad when everybody knows the best part about Chipotle is the cilantro rice. He even asked her ‘What’s that?’ and pretended to be very interested when she answered ‘Salad dressing’.
Sam had obviously suggested the restaurant and asked Jamie for her thoughts on it. Encouraged by her positive response (‘It’s good’), he proceeded to lay down his game and impress her with his knowledge of Chipotle trivia.
• ‘Yeah, I really like it. I’ve always thought that it’s kind of like the Subway of burritos’.
• ‘There are mad Chipotles in Atlanta. Like everywhere you turn, there’s a Chipotle’.
• ‘It has choices, but not too many choices. I think they got kids’ meals, but it’s not on the menu’.
They were both Latin@, so after exhausting the ‘cool facts about Chipotle’ conversation, Sam asked Jamie if she thought her grandmother would like Chipotle. She shrugged. He said, ‘Yeah, I think my grandma might like it’. And then he asked the question he’d been building up to all day. And his voice was a little bit higher-pitched (classic ‘nervous but trying to sound cooly casual’, you know the deal).
Sam: So, do you think you’ll come to the party tonight?
Jamie: Nah. I gotta get some rest.
Sam: What? You like partying.
Jamie: Yeah, but you can’t do it all the time.
Sam: Oh yeah, mmhm, yeah. (Fake laugh like, ‘I know aaaall about that!’) It might be short. You should come.
And then, she switched the subject just like that and asked why he wasn’t wearing his watch.
Sam: Oh yeah, well, I had to stop wearing it ’cause it wasn’t real. My dad gave it to me. It looks cool, but I think I got bad karma ’cause if I see people wearing fakes, I point it out…I’m like, ‘Nahhh’, so I can’t wear it.
Have you guessed the twist in this love story yet? It’s actually a tale of unrequited love. It took all my self-restraint not to hug him and say, ‘She’s just not that into you, friend’. Jamie only said like fifteen words the whole time even though Sam was being polite and asking lots of questions. And that Chipotle-Subway analogy? Inspired! Plus, he made himself so vulnerable by admitting his watch was fake. What kind of person stops wearing his favorite accessory because he believes in karma? A person with integrity, that’s who. I mean, I actually left before they did, so I don’t know for sure that Sam’s love was unrequited. Do you think there’s a chance Jamie was just being shy because she was nervously working up the courage to tell Sam she’s crazy about him? And do you agree that Sam is so cool, asking about grandmas on the first date?
There exists, at 77th and Lexington, an establishment by the name of ‘Hot & Crusty’ specializing in all manner of hot and crusty things, from croissants to pizza to a dessert case so full you wonder how often they run out of anything and have to bite your tongue to keep from asking, ‘Just how old are those danishes, anyway?’ It is neither beautiful nor friendly—as evidenced by the 20-minute time limit for customers to sit and eat.*
I found myself there on my way home from work last week, needing some water and time before descending into my commute. I was staring at my phone when in walked the most elegant Upper East Side socialites I have ever seen (and you know competition for that distinction is FIERCE). One had a short bob and wore camel slacks that were just the right length to showcase her red block heels. Of course she wore red lipstick, perfectly applied. Her friend wore a dress I can best describe as both billowy and crisp. Her snowy white hair was tucked into a French twist without a single bobby pin showing. It was a hairstyle so impossibly perfect that Newton would have been forced to re-examine his whole gravity idea, had he witnessed it.
They looked out of place in the Hot & Crusty, like the kind of New Yorkers who would refuse to set foot in such a dingy place, yet they seemed at ease. That’s the thing about New Yorkers. In some ways they are snobby and pretentious, and in others they are so, so, so not. How else do you explain all the Gray Papaya hot dog restaurants in Manhattan?
As the ladies shared a copy of the Financial Times, which by the way is the only newspaper I know that’s printed on light peach paper (and do you think that is to appeal to aging débutantes?), I couldn’t help but overhear eavesdrop. And I even went so far as to transcribe some of their more outrageous statements.
Here are my favorite quotes. They make much more sense when read aloud by two people, so please, grab a friend, don some hats, and get into character! Who knows, maybe if we role-play enough, we’ll develop that crisp socialite accent and get invited to all the galas.
Lady the First: Heavens to Betsy! It’s even hotter in Paris than here. I was thinking of going on the 1st, but I won’t be going unless it cools down. Lady the Second: What’s happening in Paris? Lady the First: Oh, nothing, but there’s always something to do in Paris.
Lady the First: My brother and sister-in-law have a mold problem in their crummy apartment building on 5th Avenue. They expected the work to be done before their return, but of course the workers haven’t finished. Lady the Second: Anybody could have predicted that. Lady the First: Yes. But they were surprised, and now my brother wants to stay away until the workers have finished. They’re in Austria, but they don’t know where they’ll go after this weekend.
Lady the First: Well, like all philanthropically-minded people— Lady the Second: Heaven save us from them. Lady the First: Yes, Heaven save us.
* I generally avoid the phrase ‘Only in New York!’, but I think this warrants it.
Like every movie ever would suggest, New York is full of diners. One time Devin went to one and reviewed its chocolate milkshake.
Due to this pesky-but-wonderful thing called employment, I was unavailable to photograph the event. Sadly, Devin is not the type to take pictures of himself, or the world around him for that matter. In February he went to Singapore for a week and didn’t snap a single picture. Granted he was there for a conference and didn’t have much free time, but still! (Somewhat related: I sometimes try to imagine what Devin’s Instagram feed would look like, and I am stumped.) I am the type to photograph any and everything (Instagram: smoothliminal), so I managed to take this picture of EJ’s Luncheonette another time. And now…without further ado, I present unto you, the third installment of Devin’s search for New York’s Best Shake! (Note: Devin uses a 1-5 scale with 1 being the worst and 5 being the best.)
EJ’s Luncheonette
Exactly what you would expect from a diner shake.
FLAVOR: 3.5 – Hand-scooped but not gourmet ice cream.
CONSISTENCY: 3 – The man behind the bar could have used a little less milk. The shake was pourable.
PRESENTATION: 4 – As I said last time, everyone loves a bonus, and this shake came with a healthy extra 8 oz in the steel mixing cup. However, the plastic (though reusable) pintglass lost a few points. Also, there was no cherry as one would expect at such an establishment, but I didn’t mind.
AMBIANCE: 3.5 – EJ’s is a surprisingly classic diner for the Upper East Side.
ETHICS: 2 – The employees seemed happy but no guarantees about the cows or cocoa pickers. Kemps ice cream and generic chocolate sauce are classic diner, but one would hope Upper East Siders would demand better.
OVERALL VALUE: 3.5 – $5 is exactly what I would expect to pay for this classic diner shake; I only wish they used glass pints and local dairy.
New York and I are on awfully good terms lately. More than that, really. I think I might be in love. My breath catches and my heart beats fast-fast-fast, and I grin goofily for no reason other than simply being here. I wish I could time-travel a few months and tell myself, ‘It’s not that you don’t like New York. Just wait until summer!’
Here are some of the ways New York has given me butterflies lately:
+ I ate an awful street bagel with Issy in front of Zara, kicking myself because we could have gone to about a million other bagel carts in a three-block radius. There are millions of everything here! Friends come visit you here!
+ I scored big at the Zara semi-annual sale before going to work. By ‘scored big’, I mean I got a shirt for $9. The point is I can eat breakfast on the street and go shopping before work just like all the wimyn in the rom-coms.
+ I’m hot. Like all of the time. Except when I’m cold because the A/C on the subway is too high, but then it’s only for like five minutes. I think sweat suits me.
+ The other day I passed three frozen yogurt places and four nail salons in a two-block distance on the same side of the street. I don’t even know what was on the other side of the street because I was too busy comparing mani-pedi prices to notice. (The mani-pedi prices are as follows: $35, $30, $26, and $20.99, in case you’re curious.)
+ The man who works at my favorite fruit stand remembered I love mangoes and gave me free bananas. The boy who works at my subway stop’s newsstand is my friend. We talk about his high school, energy drinks, and how now that he is getting transferred to another newsstand, we’ll be L-train friends instead of newsstand friends.
+
This neon sign. New York just tells it like it is, y’all.
+ Before I wrote this post, I saw a middle-school boy mapping out what exhibits he was going to see at the Natural History Museum. He was going by himself. While I was writing this post, I watched a respectable gentleman in a business suit reach into a trash can and pull out a copy of the New York Times. While I was writing this post, I saw a womyn wearing a pastel stained-glass skirt I had when I was sixteen. I got it an Ann Taylor because I wanted to feel confident when I took the PSAT. Yes, I shopped at Ann Taylor in high school. It was one of the few places that had a Petites department, and sometimes a girl needs something a little dressy for Spelling Team competitions or standardized tests, okay? My point is: PEOPLE. All kinds of people doing all kinds of things all day every day. I’d always suspected this, but now I know: my favorite animal is the human.
+ I realized that New York is the city of ‘No’. No bathrooms, no space, no warning before the MTA interrupts train service, no money in my bank account, nothing for free, no street without litter, no air conditioning, no effective communication of the many, many silly rules. But somehow, all these no’s add up to a big YES. It’s like New York is a paaaaaaain, and I am a paaaaaaain; so we understand each other.
Sunday was a huge day for me. I started preparing for it in real life on Saturday in Times Square, but mentally and emotionally, I had been preparing for months.
Let’s begin at the beginning. On Saturday, I went to Times Square to meet my old boss for lunch. She was in town for a conference and only had a short break, so we had to meet there. Now listen, I’m not one of those people who hates on Times Square every chance she gets, but man, is it ever confusing!
It took me forever to find the Dean & Deluca even with GPS, and on my way, I saw way too many decontextualized cartoon characters (i.e. people dressed up in giant costumes, like Snoopy or Buzz Lightyear). Maybe this is weird, but decontextualized characters make me sad. I can’t imagine anything more uncomfortable than walking around in a huge, thick costume on a hot summer day and trying to get people to pay you for being in their pictures. Who pays them is what I want to know, and how do they pay the rent? Do they ever get those costumes washed? Also, if I give them money, do I have to interact with them? My instinct is to give each of them a dollar and then run far, far away before I have to touch them. ‘Please do not hug me, Times Square Clifford. Please! I am begging you!’
But back to the matter at hand: lunch with my former boss. The thing about her is that she is so good at sharp pop culture critique, talking social justice realness, and make-up. Over lunch she told me about this new Polish brand of make-up that is CRAAAZY. I’m talking every color you can ever think of in ONE SINGLE tube of lip gloss that when applied is the perfect hue of peony pink (magic, science, chemicals!). I don’t know much about cosmetics, so I ask her for advice whenever I get the chance. On Saturday, after our lunch date, I was inspired to buy an eyeliner marker. Then, I went to buy accessories. I ended up going to the Forever 21 in Times Square (not a lot of small, independent stores there) because I didn’t have much time before I had to go to work.
On Sunday, I raced home after work and got ready for the Mad Men season finale. I’d heard about a party very close to my apartment sponsored by an adorable vintage clothes-seller, complete with a costume contest. After weeks of agonizing, I’d finally come up with what I thought was the outfit. No one was available to take a full-length picture of me, and I wanted to get there early, so I didn’t spend too much time on pictures, but I did take some shoddy Photobooth ones.
smoothliminal 