Filial Cannibaleggsm

Me: (Pointing to bucket of table scraps) Is this compost?
Mom: No. It's for the chickens.
Me: Oh. I won't put this broken egg in then.
Mom: No, they would like it. They love eggs!
Me: (Putting egg in) This seems wrong.

Lunch of Champions

One of my favorite restaurants in Chinatown is Lunch Box Buffet, on Grand between Chrystie and Bowery. If you take your food to go, you get five dishes for $3.75! Rice counts as a dish, but you can ask for no rice and get something else in its place.

Whenever I go to this place, it reminds me of my high school days when my tennis team members and I would sneak out early and hang out at the local mall before away games. We would go to the food court for lunch and then Baskin Robbins for ice cream shakes. When the time we were officially allowed to leave class approached, we would head back to campus and meet our coach in the school parking lot. My "lunch of champions" consisted of the combo meal from Chinese Gourmet Express and a Cappuccino Blast from Baskin Robbins.

Lunch Box Buffet is pretty different from Chinese Gourmet Express (which was like a less polished Panda Express). But the gluttony it welcomes brings me back to my teenage years. As you can see from the picture, I definitely do not maximize my value. My roommate would never get rice and/or vegetables. Speaking of my roommate, here's a beautiful sandwich he made:

 

And the newest addition to our plant family. I have a real weakness for old people selling stuff. Things I've been suckered into purchasing from old people: a pack of gum, zhong zi (those rice things wrapped in leaves), and this African Violet.

Floor Wars

Our building is an unassuming seven floor walk-up filled with little Chinese grandmas. However, despite the calm facade, there is a battle raging within our apartment complex over (I'm guessing) who does not live on the fourth floor.

Everything seems normal upon entering the building. Look at our nice stairwell!

 

When you reach the top of the first set of stairs, you'll come across a "2" written in green sharpie. A little ghetto, but whatever.

You continue up the stairs, and it becomes noticeably less nice. There's no more marble and the paint on the walls is flaking off. And when you reach the top of the second set of stairs, you come across an interesting sight. It appears that you are on the floor formerly known as the second floor.

A closeup of the adorable picture:

On top of the third set of stairs, there is no definitive answer as to what floor you're on. Do you listen to green sharpie? or the black sharpie?

 

One more flight, and you think to yourself: I think I'm on the fifth floor, but that sticker sure is official looking.

On the higher floors, the two sides either lost interest, or got too tired.

If you go one more flight above the floor labeled "6" you'll be rewarded with the building's rooftop views:

 Uptown view.

Downtown view.

Grilling

One inconvenience of living in a Chinatown rent controlled apartment is that ovens don't come standard. May I present to you the result of having a love of toaster pastries, but no oven:

The grill marks make the Pop Tart seem more manly, wouldn't you agree? The only downside I've noticed of using a George Foreman Grill instead of a toaster is that you can toast only one slice of bread at a time.