World Hum has an article that brought back some memories of when I used to be a total bitch to Trader Joe’s. Ironically, I ceased being a TJ shopper when they did exactly what I was hoping they would do: open a store in NYC. Let’s turn the clock back to pre-NYC TJ, when we would make the drive to either Westfield, NJ or Hewlett, NY just to load up on some low price groceries and random snacks. “Oh look! These cookies do not contain hydrogenated oils!” An entire day would be gone when we returned home and all tired to cook up what we just bought. Even when we daytripped to various points around the area, I would check the Trader Joe’s site to see if there was some location close to wherever we were going. The next thing you know, we would return from a day at a beach in Long Island with several full TJ bags. When we found out there was a Paramus location, we just kept coming up with excuses to hit Campmor, and oh by the way, get some groceries at Trader Joe’s as well.

It looks like the siesta is no longer such a foreign concept in our puritan society. A company called Yelo just launched a power nap station over in Midtown which offers a more inviting, not to mention, a cleaner alternative to that communal office couch or the germ pit known as the subway. Prices start at an astounding $12 for a 20 minute snooze. It could be well worth it if you’re like me who crash out around 3pm everyday. Keep in mind that this is still New York City where people rush to get their Zen on at yoga. Imagine a bunch of folks in haste to take a nap?!

The most emailed article on nytimes.com the past couple of days was the article on Beijing’ seemingly Sisyphean effort on chinglish, queuing, and spitting in time for the 2008 Olympics. The city is on a rampage to educate folks about changing these bad habits, even going as far as designating an official “Queuing Day.” The efforts are indeed earnest, but these are the sort of habits that have been practiced for generations and are hard to break in just one year.

Photos from last night’s Art Brut show at Bowery Ballroom.

Last year when we saw Art Brut at Southpaw, the little brother was still 25. Perhaps his 26th birthday is later in the year.

That’s pretty much stating the obvious. Asians and gambling go hand-in-hand like ham and cheese, or Sonny and Cher, and M and M. It seems like we’re hardwired to want to gamble. Anyone who has visited Atlantic City or Las Vegas will have noticed the hoards of Asian gamblers trying to make a killing at the Pai Kow, Big/Small, and Baccarat tables. Let’s also not forget the Japanese obsession Pachinko. Now travelblog Gadling reports that Asia is about to turn into a gambling hotspot. Noticing how much money is being made in Macau, Japan is getting in on the act as they’re now considering Vegas style gambling. Even uptight Singapore is constructing a gambling joint on Sentosa Island.

Here in the urban jungle, lover’s lane isn’t the cliff overlooking the town, nor is it some lush quiet spot with nary a streak of light in the sky where the old man’s Ford is a-rockin. Rather, the cars are parked in some post-industrial corner at the Gowanus in Brooklyn. Last Saturday on a dog walk down 12th Street and 3rd Avenue, I’ve seen a chick bobbing her head up and down giving some lucky guy getting a blow job in his car. Then just yesterday, a minivan was swaying side to side on the same block. It wasn’t the car’s engine that was running, if you get my drift.