The holiday is over. Crankiness is back in vogue.

Just look at this hipster half-wit.

Manhattan is choking with guys like this. There were plenty of empty seats available. In fact, I was the only other person in the coffee shop. But he sat on the floor, displaying his maximum casual-cool, and yammered into his mobile at full-throated volume. ["Did you see what I wrote about her? Well...she said that thing about ME!"] I sat down at 6:50 a.m. to enjoy my morning cup of bad medicine and he went on in this manner until 7:45. Who spends an hour talking on a mobile phone?! My ear hurts after :10 minutes. Por qué? Por qué I ask you?! I know the answer. Because the universe is conspiring against me. Against humanity. But, like Christina Aguilera, I won't let it bring me down. I'll rise above the aggravation to the best of my ability.

Same coffee shop, different morning. Look at this poor old General. He bought one of those wedge devices that tilt your laptop keyboard towards you, making it easier to type, but he's using it backwards. So sad.

If he thought he had carpel tunnel before, just wait about six weeks. He won't be able to grip that coffee cup to his right.

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I tried on two separate occasions to see Christian Marclay's award winning The Clock—once when it played in a Chelsea art gallery and again when it was at Lincoln Center. On both occasions, the lines were so long that I couldn't get in. It just started a six-week run at MoMA and I was finally successful.

The Clock is a movie that's 24 hours long. It's made from thousands of brief excerpts from movies dating back to the silent era. In each clip—some just a few seconds long, others a minute or two—a clock appears or a specific time is mentioned. It's either prominently displayed or somewhere in the background. The conceit is that the time displayed the movie is the exact time that you're watching the film. You can, literally, set your watch to the film. It's pretty brilliant stuff. As the scenes whiz by, you get to feel like a big smarty-pants if you can identify the movie clip. MoMA is sponsoring 24-hour screenings on the weekends.

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We got 11-Year Old Daughter a phone. It's not a smart phone. She's too young for the internet. She can text and phone her friends. She is absolutely giddy over it. A fountain of happiness. Here's her first text message to me, sent while I was at work:

Do you know what I love about this? I love that she used "as well" instead of the more pedestrian (albeit, grammatically correct) "too." It sounds richer.