Step 1: Watch Scrubs. Step 2: Eat pizza while watching Scrubs. Step 3: Nap. Step 4: Start. #howtowriteonasaturday

— Karen (@karenmaywrites) February 4, 2012

And that’s how I spent my Super Bowl weekend.

Other than that, I’ve been so beat this week I haven’t had energy to write patent-related ramblings (Stop that. You, with the pumping of the fist).

Luckily, that’s what pictures are for. Here’s a few days in my life.

On my way back from a meeting at City Bakery, I looked to my left long enough to walk back to the middle of the crosswalk and snap this picture. If that cab looks like it’s gunning for me, it’s because it was.

City Bakery, by the way, is the kind of place where you have to be vigilant about finding a table at 3 p.m. on a Tuesday. On the upside, there’s never a need to fill awkward silences because no such thing exists there.

The roomies and I are trying to do this thing where we get together more than once every leap year.

Though I’ll always refer to them here as my roomies, one of them actually moved out months ago. Still, it’s not uncommon for New York roomies to never see each other. Which is not always a bad thing.

One Wednesday, the original plan was Buffalo Cantina for dinner, land of buffalo wings and more buffalo wings. But when I found out there was a creative nonfiction panel at Housing Works in SoHo, I dragged everyone to, you guessed it, a bookstore. The buffalo wings (and it’s not every day I say this) had to wait.

I wanted to hear about a piece I’d read some time ago that explored why Asian males, despite doing well in academic settings, usually don’t successfully climb the corporate ladder. Turns out New York Mag editors, as editors tend to do, had assigned the story to a writer with a tenuous connection to the subject matter: “You, Asian guy. You’re up.”

One night in Park Slope, a friend celebrated his birthday at Pacific Standard. Presidential debate playing in the background with very serious spectators in attendance? Check. One dude adamantly arguing about why shark fin soup is a symbol of this generation’s disposable nature? Check.

It was That Kind of Night.

As always, lots of train ennui have been had.

(Ennui. Just wanted to say it again.)

As well as fun but photo-unworthy libations.

One of them in Beauty & Essex.

The kind of place with snazzy bathrooms.

And snazzy tiles.

On most nights, this is what I see when I head home.

Happy Friday, friends.