February is generally a fairly uneventful month for me. Sure, it begins with Pops' birthday, which is always a good time. But after the early joy of giving wears off, there's really not much else to look forward to. Valentine's Day is fine (I'm obviously always up for chocolate), but when you're single and have the flu on V-Day (I am, and I did), you think things couldn't get much worse. The one thing that has totally saved this February and even catapulted it into a favored spot in my ranking of months is the 2010 winter Olympics. I have been absolutely glued to my television, feeling the pain of every skier who wipes out and slides down the mountain on her face, and gasping in horror and disappointment as the figure skaters land on their bottoms after attempting triple axles.
The odd thing about watching the Olympics is how these athletes make us viewers think that we are way more talented than we are. They make everything look so easy; it can't be THAT difficult, can it? I haven't skied in almost two years, and before then, I hadn't touched a mountain in nearly half a decade. Those facts aside, watching my girls Lindsey and Julia make their turns with such ease and grace at 80 miles per hour makes me think that tackling a black diamond would be a cinch. And of course the folks over at NBC are keen on making every American athlete into a human interest story, so I'm now totally invested in them. I know who's friends with whom, who spends Christmas at whose cabins, and who listens to which songs during their warm ups. It's pretty absurd. And you absolutely have to laugh at the way the camera zooms in on every medalist's profile during the medal ceremonies, desperately trying to catch a tear - or at the very least, a moist eye. (The camera was disappointed by Shaun White in that respect.)
Though I think it's probably (I say "probably," rather than "certainly" because I don't like to ever lose total hope) a tad too late in life to set my sights on the Olympics, watching these games has reignited my competitive athletic nature. And it's perfect timing, as my firm softball season is fast approaching. I haven't picked up my glove in over a year, and I've never even attempted to hit slow pitch before, but I'm beyond stoked to get back on the field. Unfortunately, I'm not sure intramural firm sports carry the same weight as college varsity. (I don't think Coach telling a partner I have an 8pm game will get me out of a late night of work the same way an away game in Vermont excused me from Friday afternoon classes.) But if all goes as planned, our team will be so successful, we will become the pride and joy of the firm (earning a headline on the internal website), and they will hold happy hours in our honor. I have big, big plans. So, if you're reading this and you work with me, please PLEASE join our softball team. I don't want any of this forfeiting because we can't field a full team. Let's go people - make it a priority.
And on that note, it's time to watch Apolo Ohno snag the bronze. Team USA, you make me proud every day. (Yes, I am a cheese ball.)
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
My feet play a large role in this post. I'm sorry.
Broken promises are never fun. That is why I am not going to promise to write more often. I don't want to let you down. I will, however, promise to TRY to write more often. Being a working person is a lot harder and takes a lot more time than TV suggests. Remember Miranda from Sex and the City? She was a lawyer. She always talked about how being a lawyer meant not having time for anything else. But then she was always talking about it from somewhere other than her office. Like at brunch with the ladies. Or in LA with the ladies. Or at a pizza place in Brooklyn with Steve. The whole thing was very deceiving, but in case you're wondering, lawyers in NYC work harder than Miranda. I'm living it. It's a fact.
Notwithstanding the above paragraph, I was able to get away to Boston this weekend and had a lovely three days up in the land of Anna's Taqueria and hailstorms. I hopped on Amtrak after work on Friday and took one of the only empty seats, next to a girl who looked a tad younger than me. She had chin and eyebrow piercings, and it looked like she hadn't washed her hair in about two weeks. We had a ton in common. My favorite part was when we were about 20 minutes from South Station and she called the person picking her up to complain about how badly she needed a cigarette. She must have dropped the f-bomb seven times during that phone call. For once in my life, my intense desire to arrive at my destination was not driven by my bladder. No, Friday night I counted down the seconds to our arrival, only hoping that my seatmate would wait until the doors opened before lighting up. Mission accomplished.
The weekend was one of relaxation and small indulgences. Small Asian Friend and I got pedicures on Saturday. The women told SAF and me to sit next to each other and to dip our feet into the water basins at our feet (pretty standard pedi procedure). They then, however, proceeded to work on my feet while letting SAF's wombat feet soak till they resembled giant prunes. Poor SAF. At least she had US Weekly and Brangelina to keep her company. Of course, since it's winter and I haven't worn anything other than flip flops to a pedi in about 3.5 years, I had no idea they would provide us with enormous foam flip flops. At first this seemed a good idea. That was, until I stood up to walk over to the dryer and my big toes on both feet got messed up as I tried to walk in those things. Oh well, I decided since it's winter and no one will see my toes but me, it really didn't matter. I finished and must have dried my toes for about 45 minutes by the time SAF was ready. Then came the real fun. SAF wanted that crazy oil stuff so her nails would dry faster, but I wanted none of it. I had been drying for 45 minutes- there was no need. I tried explaining that to the woman who rushed over with oil, but to no avail. Before I knew what was happening, she had oiled my toes and shoved plastic bags over my feet. I was then forced to put my boots on and walk up the giant hill to SAF's apartment with gross, wet plastic covering my feet inside my shoes. WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT? It was the most uncomfortable feeling ever. Just totally awkward. SAF didn't seem to mind. I mean, she did ask for it. Thanks a lot.
On Sunday, we partook in the amazingness that is Zipcar (Mr. Zipcar, I salute you) and made our way up to Maine for the outlet shopping. Mother would be so proud. It was a beautiful day as we set out on I-95. Much to our dismay and surprise, the clouds appeared, and then grew darker, the further north we drove. By the time we got to Kittery, it was pouring, and I was (obviously) wearing totally inappropriate footwear. To rectify that situation, we made the Kittery Trading Post our first destination, and I emerged from the store wearing sparkling new duck boots with the tags attached. My feet were instantly warmer, and thus spent the rest of the day thanking me. We drove on towards Bob's Clam Hut, a family favorite lunch spot, and found the parking lot surprisingly empty. Excited at the thought of shellfish and warmth, we bounded into the Hut, only to find the entire kitchen covered in darkness. Apparently, the power had gone out in all of Kittery, and the only reason we hadn't noticed it earlier was because the Trading Post had its own generator. Of course. We were forced to drive on, in an attempt to find some nourishment and dry quarters. The restaurant we found in Portsmouth exceeded all expectations (although its decor reminded me a bit of the cult restaurant Monard and I ate at months ago in Ithaca). We returned to Kittery to find the power had come back on and enjoyed a very successful (though lengthy) visit to Tumi.
On our way back to Boston, we surprised The Famous Auntie Bevy with a visit. Amazingly, we entered her house in the middle of a huge family event, so Small Asian Friend had the fortunate occasion to meet the whole clan. Of course, TFAB told her age old story about bathing me in the tiniest bowl when I was a baby. I may have mentioned this tale once or twice before, but suffice it to say that over the years I have progressed from being the size of a normal healthy baby, to fitting in a thimble full of soap and water. Priceless. The visit was terrific, and if it weren't for the time constraints of Zipcar, SAF would have enjoyed the best steak tips north of the Carolinas. But rather than turn into pumpkins (who owed Mr. Zip even more money), we returned to Boston, to an evening of mac and cheese and facebook stalking. Just perfect.
A few additional highlights of the trip included:
- finally joining the 21st century by buying an iPod touch. I love it. I love everything about it.
- seeing Leap Year by myself, while, due to unforeseen scheduling issues, my host and our other Boston friends saw In the Heights. The movie was horrible.
- discovering the best tea ever in SAF's kitchen cabinets: Yogi, Calming. Try it. You'll thank me. I promise.
In other news: I was asked to be a bridesmaid! This is incredibly exciting, and I am honored and thrilled to have been asked. The Bride is one of my housemates and best friends from college, and so far all the wedding prep stuff I've attended has been a blast. I can't believe we're old enough to be getting married. It's pretty incredible. Oh, and as a side note: I will be accepting applications for my plus-one beginning in a few months, so start working on those personal statements.
One more thing: I just caught the end of The Notebook. I don't think I ever cry as much at a screen as I do when I watch this movie. Oh wait, other than when I watch Extreme Makeover, Home Edition. Say what you will, but that show is heartwarming and uplifting and mushy and sad and fantastic.
Notwithstanding the above paragraph, I was able to get away to Boston this weekend and had a lovely three days up in the land of Anna's Taqueria and hailstorms. I hopped on Amtrak after work on Friday and took one of the only empty seats, next to a girl who looked a tad younger than me. She had chin and eyebrow piercings, and it looked like she hadn't washed her hair in about two weeks. We had a ton in common. My favorite part was when we were about 20 minutes from South Station and she called the person picking her up to complain about how badly she needed a cigarette. She must have dropped the f-bomb seven times during that phone call. For once in my life, my intense desire to arrive at my destination was not driven by my bladder. No, Friday night I counted down the seconds to our arrival, only hoping that my seatmate would wait until the doors opened before lighting up. Mission accomplished.
The weekend was one of relaxation and small indulgences. Small Asian Friend and I got pedicures on Saturday. The women told SAF and me to sit next to each other and to dip our feet into the water basins at our feet (pretty standard pedi procedure). They then, however, proceeded to work on my feet while letting SAF's wombat feet soak till they resembled giant prunes. Poor SAF. At least she had US Weekly and Brangelina to keep her company. Of course, since it's winter and I haven't worn anything other than flip flops to a pedi in about 3.5 years, I had no idea they would provide us with enormous foam flip flops. At first this seemed a good idea. That was, until I stood up to walk over to the dryer and my big toes on both feet got messed up as I tried to walk in those things. Oh well, I decided since it's winter and no one will see my toes but me, it really didn't matter. I finished and must have dried my toes for about 45 minutes by the time SAF was ready. Then came the real fun. SAF wanted that crazy oil stuff so her nails would dry faster, but I wanted none of it. I had been drying for 45 minutes- there was no need. I tried explaining that to the woman who rushed over with oil, but to no avail. Before I knew what was happening, she had oiled my toes and shoved plastic bags over my feet. I was then forced to put my boots on and walk up the giant hill to SAF's apartment with gross, wet plastic covering my feet inside my shoes. WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT? It was the most uncomfortable feeling ever. Just totally awkward. SAF didn't seem to mind. I mean, she did ask for it. Thanks a lot.
On Sunday, we partook in the amazingness that is Zipcar (Mr. Zipcar, I salute you) and made our way up to Maine for the outlet shopping. Mother would be so proud. It was a beautiful day as we set out on I-95. Much to our dismay and surprise, the clouds appeared, and then grew darker, the further north we drove. By the time we got to Kittery, it was pouring, and I was (obviously) wearing totally inappropriate footwear. To rectify that situation, we made the Kittery Trading Post our first destination, and I emerged from the store wearing sparkling new duck boots with the tags attached. My feet were instantly warmer, and thus spent the rest of the day thanking me. We drove on towards Bob's Clam Hut, a family favorite lunch spot, and found the parking lot surprisingly empty. Excited at the thought of shellfish and warmth, we bounded into the Hut, only to find the entire kitchen covered in darkness. Apparently, the power had gone out in all of Kittery, and the only reason we hadn't noticed it earlier was because the Trading Post had its own generator. Of course. We were forced to drive on, in an attempt to find some nourishment and dry quarters. The restaurant we found in Portsmouth exceeded all expectations (although its decor reminded me a bit of the cult restaurant Monard and I ate at months ago in Ithaca). We returned to Kittery to find the power had come back on and enjoyed a very successful (though lengthy) visit to Tumi.
On our way back to Boston, we surprised The Famous Auntie Bevy with a visit. Amazingly, we entered her house in the middle of a huge family event, so Small Asian Friend had the fortunate occasion to meet the whole clan. Of course, TFAB told her age old story about bathing me in the tiniest bowl when I was a baby. I may have mentioned this tale once or twice before, but suffice it to say that over the years I have progressed from being the size of a normal healthy baby, to fitting in a thimble full of soap and water. Priceless. The visit was terrific, and if it weren't for the time constraints of Zipcar, SAF would have enjoyed the best steak tips north of the Carolinas. But rather than turn into pumpkins (who owed Mr. Zip even more money), we returned to Boston, to an evening of mac and cheese and facebook stalking. Just perfect.
A few additional highlights of the trip included:
- finally joining the 21st century by buying an iPod touch. I love it. I love everything about it.
- seeing Leap Year by myself, while, due to unforeseen scheduling issues, my host and our other Boston friends saw In the Heights. The movie was horrible.
- discovering the best tea ever in SAF's kitchen cabinets: Yogi, Calming. Try it. You'll thank me. I promise.
In other news: I was asked to be a bridesmaid! This is incredibly exciting, and I am honored and thrilled to have been asked. The Bride is one of my housemates and best friends from college, and so far all the wedding prep stuff I've attended has been a blast. I can't believe we're old enough to be getting married. It's pretty incredible. Oh, and as a side note: I will be accepting applications for my plus-one beginning in a few months, so start working on those personal statements.
One more thing: I just caught the end of The Notebook. I don't think I ever cry as much at a screen as I do when I watch this movie. Oh wait, other than when I watch Extreme Makeover, Home Edition. Say what you will, but that show is heartwarming and uplifting and mushy and sad and fantastic.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
It's snowing in the city.
Once again, I've taken a longer hiatus from this than I intended. My sincerest apologies. The simple reason for my prolonged absence from the blogosphere is that I began working three weeks ago. And it has taken over my life. Once an avid (ok, somewhat enthusiastic) bar-goer on weeknights, I have transformed into the get home from work and crawl into bed exhausted, with or without dinner, type. It's pathetic.
Ok, glad we got that out of the way. I will now address interesting things that have happened in my life since last time.
I bought my first business class ticket (Amtrak), and I will never go back to coach (depending, of course, on my financial situation). I made my way up to Beantown to see Small Asian Friend, the Cousins, and the famous Auntie Bevy for Thanksgiving. As usual, the company was superb, and the food (other than Thanksgiving Day) was terrific. In fact, I ate so much in the week leading up to Turkey Day and its immediate aftermath that when I tried on the new dress pants I had purchased way back in October for my first day of work the Monday after T-Day, they were all too small. YIKES. You'll be happy to know three weeks later they fit just fine. Phew. Anyhoo, the holiday (like all holidays, let's be honest) consisted of lots of shopping and lots of eating- things the B family do rather well. The real kicker happened on the way home. Mother and Pops were driving me back to the city on their way home, and Brother got the front seat. That meant Mom and I sat in the back, with barely enough room between us to fit my laptop. There was (obviously) a sale at some random place in Connecticut that we just HAD to stop at on the way home, and two hours later, I was sandwiched between Mother and boxes of newly purchased items, packed right up to the ceiling. The Manhattan skyline's approach was never quite as exciting as it was that day.
I saw the next installment in The Twilight Saga. What a poor decision. Other than Taylor's abs and KStew's mouth, there was really nothing of interest in the entire film. The acting was so bad, I felt weird sitting there, watching them. It was so melodramatic and over the top that I wondered whether they had actually just filmed the preliminary rehearsals and said "good enough." I guess that's what happens when you make a movie whose target audience couldn't care less about plot or character development, or acting, or...dignity. Apparently, the teeny boppers are happy as long as Pattinson is making creepy eyes at KStew, and as long as their terribly awkward (but of course deeply passionate) kisses contain enough heavy breathing to fill the theater with the minty fresh scent of Certs. Please don't make me go on.
I also saw Up in the Air. [SPOILER ALERT. Skip to the next paragraph if you want to be surprised about what emotion you're feeling when you leave the theater after seeing this movie.] It was way better than New Moon. Clooney is still the man, and while the end is incredibly depressing, I really liked the movie up to that point.
I made it out to Brooklyn for the first time since moving back to NY. Dr. Dog was playing down at the Brooklyn Bowl in Williamsburg. It was a pretty strange/awesome venue- bowling lanes on one side and huge open area in front of a raised stage on the other side. It was hipster-tastic (a sea of flannel and 80's-style sunglasses). The music was decent, too. OH, and there was fake snow! Speaking of the white stuff, it's been snowing here for most of today. A snow-capped city is so pretty. Now if only I didn't have to go outside tomorrow, it'd be just perfect. But alas, life must go on. At least I don't have to worry about how I'm going to get Otto out of the driveway or whether he has enough wiper fluid.
One final thought: So I have no idea what random email list I signed up for, but in the past two days I have received over fifty spam messages. Come on, people! Get your act together and stop selling my email address to creepos. Kudos, however, to the folks at gmail for sorting out spam with such precision and accuracy. I am extremely appreciative of your efforts.
Ok, glad we got that out of the way. I will now address interesting things that have happened in my life since last time.
I bought my first business class ticket (Amtrak), and I will never go back to coach (depending, of course, on my financial situation). I made my way up to Beantown to see Small Asian Friend, the Cousins, and the famous Auntie Bevy for Thanksgiving. As usual, the company was superb, and the food (other than Thanksgiving Day) was terrific. In fact, I ate so much in the week leading up to Turkey Day and its immediate aftermath that when I tried on the new dress pants I had purchased way back in October for my first day of work the Monday after T-Day, they were all too small. YIKES. You'll be happy to know three weeks later they fit just fine. Phew. Anyhoo, the holiday (like all holidays, let's be honest) consisted of lots of shopping and lots of eating- things the B family do rather well. The real kicker happened on the way home. Mother and Pops were driving me back to the city on their way home, and Brother got the front seat. That meant Mom and I sat in the back, with barely enough room between us to fit my laptop. There was (obviously) a sale at some random place in Connecticut that we just HAD to stop at on the way home, and two hours later, I was sandwiched between Mother and boxes of newly purchased items, packed right up to the ceiling. The Manhattan skyline's approach was never quite as exciting as it was that day.
I saw the next installment in The Twilight Saga. What a poor decision. Other than Taylor's abs and KStew's mouth, there was really nothing of interest in the entire film. The acting was so bad, I felt weird sitting there, watching them. It was so melodramatic and over the top that I wondered whether they had actually just filmed the preliminary rehearsals and said "good enough." I guess that's what happens when you make a movie whose target audience couldn't care less about plot or character development, or acting, or...dignity. Apparently, the teeny boppers are happy as long as Pattinson is making creepy eyes at KStew, and as long as their terribly awkward (but of course deeply passionate) kisses contain enough heavy breathing to fill the theater with the minty fresh scent of Certs. Please don't make me go on.
I also saw Up in the Air. [SPOILER ALERT. Skip to the next paragraph if you want to be surprised about what emotion you're feeling when you leave the theater after seeing this movie.] It was way better than New Moon. Clooney is still the man, and while the end is incredibly depressing, I really liked the movie up to that point.
I made it out to Brooklyn for the first time since moving back to NY. Dr. Dog was playing down at the Brooklyn Bowl in Williamsburg. It was a pretty strange/awesome venue- bowling lanes on one side and huge open area in front of a raised stage on the other side. It was hipster-tastic (a sea of flannel and 80's-style sunglasses). The music was decent, too. OH, and there was fake snow! Speaking of the white stuff, it's been snowing here for most of today. A snow-capped city is so pretty. Now if only I didn't have to go outside tomorrow, it'd be just perfect. But alas, life must go on. At least I don't have to worry about how I'm going to get Otto out of the driveway or whether he has enough wiper fluid.
One final thought: So I have no idea what random email list I signed up for, but in the past two days I have received over fifty spam messages. Come on, people! Get your act together and stop selling my email address to creepos. Kudos, however, to the folks at gmail for sorting out spam with such precision and accuracy. I am extremely appreciative of your efforts.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Just say no to caffeine.
First thing's first. If you ever see me consuming a caffeinated beverage (even mildly caffeinated) after 430pm, kindly knock the drink out of my hand. Tonight was a brisk, windy evening in lower Manhattan, and on my walk back from the grocery store, I (of course) passed a Starbucks. From outside the slightly fogged window, I could see the little Christmas-y cups dancing with delight at the hope that I might venture in and take one of them home. I couldn't resist, so I went inside and ordered the only liquid sold in Starbucks that I enjoy: a grande non-fat no-foam chai. As always, I burned my tongue at the first taste of the sweet nectar, but I didn't let that stop me from sipping it all the way back to my apartment, and then throughout two episodes of The Sopranos, season 1. Yes, I like to nurse my drinks- even the non-alcoholic kind. Fast forward eight hours, and here I am, lying in bed, utterly unable to fall asleep. I have read chapter after chapter in my bedside book, hoping it will put me to sleep, but then I turn out the lights and all I can pay attention to is my heartbeat and the sounds coming from my cable box. Pathetic. Moral of the story: Starbucks is vicious. It lures you into its stores late at night, with the promise of peppermint and pumpkin spice, only to keep you from sleeping well, if at all. Then you awake the next morning, having slept for a good two hours, and desperately in need of some caffeine with which to jump start your day. So you head back there, and it starts all over again. If I didn't love capitalism so much, I'd hate it.
Moving on. If you have spent any time with me since I moved into Manhattan, you may have heard me complain about my next-door neighbor and his penchant for late night viewings of slasher movies in his apartment. Or, at least that's what it sounds like through my wall. During my first few weeks at my new residence, I would often hear muffled scary music and women screaming through the wall. This, as you can imagine, was a tad disconcerting. I also heard my neighbor during the day, usually talking on the phone, and usually about going out and using a lot of "dude" and "come on, man" and such. That led me to believe he was not some creepy forty year old man, but rather a creepy twenty-something, either unemployed or working from home. Well, I finally met my neighbor. In a building full of young people, where girls look you up and down before deciding whether to smile back at you in the elevator, and your "hello" and "have a good night" are met with half smiles or nods or absolutely nothing, it is a huge shock to the system when anyone strikes up a conversation. A few days ago, I was in the lobby waiting for the elevator. A young guy stood nearby, but did not look up when I walked over. When the door opened, he motioned for me to enter first. How gentlemanly. I thanked him and walked in and then asked him which floor. He said the number of the floor I live on. I said, "Oh, I guess we're neighbors." And he said "Why yes, I guess so. What's your name?" He asked if I had just moved in, and for some reason (probably as some sort of explanation for my being in the building midday on a weekday, clearly not in work clothes) I disclosed that I've been living here for months but I don't start work till the end of the month so I'm just chilling. He said he wasn't working right now either, that he'd be back at work next month. [Longest elevator ride ever.] We arrived at our floor, and the Gentleman stepped back as I exited first. I went to my door and as he walked past me to the door directly next to mine, he said, "We're neighbors, all right." I said, "Oh, you're next door, huh?" And he said, "Yeah, hope I'm not too loud," with a smile. I wanted so badly to say, "Well, actually, yes, you are. Especially at night. When you're watching horror movies at full volume while I'm trying to fall asleep." But I said, "Oh, it's all good." Who even says that?? So now that I've officially met my neighbor, I'm relieved to see he's a normal-ish young person, even if he likes to watch slasher movies at night. Oh, and one more thing. He plays wii fit during the day. I know the music from watching Brother play it all summer. I am tempted to one day go over and ask if I can play, too. But I think we need to have at least one more run-in at the elevator before that's acceptable behavior.
This week I did something I've been meaning to do since I moved back. I went to the gorgeous midtown New York City Public Library and acquired a library card. This place is amazing. I felt like a rockstar studying in Olin and Hugh & Hazel, but those libraries can't even begin to compare to this one. It's huge and imposing and inviting and embracing all at once. I think I could get lost for days in there and not even notice - or care. It's really too bad Carrie Bradshaw decided to try to get married at the New York Public Library. Because I would totally love to have my wedding there. But she ruined it for every New York girl. Now if I chose to have my wedding there (assuming they even allow weddings to take place inside and assuming my future Someone would be down for it, too), I'd be copying. Blast.
Moving on. If you have spent any time with me since I moved into Manhattan, you may have heard me complain about my next-door neighbor and his penchant for late night viewings of slasher movies in his apartment. Or, at least that's what it sounds like through my wall. During my first few weeks at my new residence, I would often hear muffled scary music and women screaming through the wall. This, as you can imagine, was a tad disconcerting. I also heard my neighbor during the day, usually talking on the phone, and usually about going out and using a lot of "dude" and "come on, man" and such. That led me to believe he was not some creepy forty year old man, but rather a creepy twenty-something, either unemployed or working from home. Well, I finally met my neighbor. In a building full of young people, where girls look you up and down before deciding whether to smile back at you in the elevator, and your "hello" and "have a good night" are met with half smiles or nods or absolutely nothing, it is a huge shock to the system when anyone strikes up a conversation. A few days ago, I was in the lobby waiting for the elevator. A young guy stood nearby, but did not look up when I walked over. When the door opened, he motioned for me to enter first. How gentlemanly. I thanked him and walked in and then asked him which floor. He said the number of the floor I live on. I said, "Oh, I guess we're neighbors." And he said "Why yes, I guess so. What's your name?" He asked if I had just moved in, and for some reason (probably as some sort of explanation for my being in the building midday on a weekday, clearly not in work clothes) I disclosed that I've been living here for months but I don't start work till the end of the month so I'm just chilling. He said he wasn't working right now either, that he'd be back at work next month. [Longest elevator ride ever.] We arrived at our floor, and the Gentleman stepped back as I exited first. I went to my door and as he walked past me to the door directly next to mine, he said, "We're neighbors, all right." I said, "Oh, you're next door, huh?" And he said, "Yeah, hope I'm not too loud," with a smile. I wanted so badly to say, "Well, actually, yes, you are. Especially at night. When you're watching horror movies at full volume while I'm trying to fall asleep." But I said, "Oh, it's all good." Who even says that?? So now that I've officially met my neighbor, I'm relieved to see he's a normal-ish young person, even if he likes to watch slasher movies at night. Oh, and one more thing. He plays wii fit during the day. I know the music from watching Brother play it all summer. I am tempted to one day go over and ask if I can play, too. But I think we need to have at least one more run-in at the elevator before that's acceptable behavior.
This week I did something I've been meaning to do since I moved back. I went to the gorgeous midtown New York City Public Library and acquired a library card. This place is amazing. I felt like a rockstar studying in Olin and Hugh & Hazel, but those libraries can't even begin to compare to this one. It's huge and imposing and inviting and embracing all at once. I think I could get lost for days in there and not even notice - or care. It's really too bad Carrie Bradshaw decided to try to get married at the New York Public Library. Because I would totally love to have my wedding there. But she ruined it for every New York girl. Now if I chose to have my wedding there (assuming they even allow weddings to take place inside and assuming my future Someone would be down for it, too), I'd be copying. Blast.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Good things happen in November.
I am a somewhat superstitious individual. I have to set my alarm and microwave timer to certain numbers. I have to sleep with things a certain way. I have to shave a certain leg first. And I have to wake up and, before I can say anything else, say a certain word on the first day of each month.
I forgot to say that word when I woke up on November 1, 2009.
I woke up at my parents' house on the morning of November 1, and said, "whyyyy?" to Pops, as he opened my door to wake me up way too early. He shrugged and left. Then I freaked out. I thought about all the things November would bring, and then thought about how everything might turn out terribly because I forgot to say it. So I said it 10 times really fast, in hopes that this would save my month from being a complete disaster. -- So far, so good. In the first week of November, the Yankees won the World Series and I passed the Bar Exam. Comparable achievements, I'd say.
In other news: In the past two months or so, I have been running into people I know constantly. Over 8 million people reside in New York City. Of those 8 million, I probably know about one hundred. I'm no math whiz, but I'd say the odds of running into people I know should be pretty slim. And I don't mean just running into people from school at alumni events (of which I have attended zero) or seeing someone from work a few blocks away from the office (which I have successfully avoided being near during work hours).
I ran into a friend from high school on my way to the movies, in a part of town in which none of the movie-goers lived. During a recent trip, I ran into an ex's best friend (to whom I have not spoken since said ex and I broke up more than a year ago) in a random part of LA. I ran into a college friend around the corner from my apartment, and then another one at the airport on my way home from Austin. I ran into Sister's best friend from high school at a candy store in Manhattan, and I ran into a soon-to-be co-worker who lives in Brooklyn, buying a shower curtain in downtown Manhattan. Today, while eating lunch, I ran into an old camp friend I hadn't seen since before I went to college, and a few weeks ago I ran into someone from that same camp in a Starbucks on the upper west side. There is only one explanation for all of this. I am clearly emitting some sort of magnetic force that is pulling anyone I've ever met in my life towards me. [Did I mention I just watched Fantastic Four 1 and 2?] This is a warning, people. If you see someone with newly trimmed bangs who you think might be me, even in a random part of town where I would be unlikely to step foot, it's me. Say hello. Or smile and wave. Or nod. Or just walk past me with the knowledge that you avoided an awkward run-in. (But then, if a run-in with me would be awkward, then why are you reading my blog? Huh? Right.)
One more thing: Maine, I used to like you. A lot. I shopped at your outlet malls and ate your fine fresh shellfish. I enjoyed your cute little seaside towns and trading posts and took advantage of your lower sales tax. But, Maine, you have let me down. While I will still probably do all of the things I just mentioned, I now like you less. That is all.
I forgot to say that word when I woke up on November 1, 2009.
I woke up at my parents' house on the morning of November 1, and said, "whyyyy?" to Pops, as he opened my door to wake me up way too early. He shrugged and left. Then I freaked out. I thought about all the things November would bring, and then thought about how everything might turn out terribly because I forgot to say it. So I said it 10 times really fast, in hopes that this would save my month from being a complete disaster. -- So far, so good. In the first week of November, the Yankees won the World Series and I passed the Bar Exam. Comparable achievements, I'd say.
In other news: In the past two months or so, I have been running into people I know constantly. Over 8 million people reside in New York City. Of those 8 million, I probably know about one hundred. I'm no math whiz, but I'd say the odds of running into people I know should be pretty slim. And I don't mean just running into people from school at alumni events (of which I have attended zero) or seeing someone from work a few blocks away from the office (which I have successfully avoided being near during work hours).
I ran into a friend from high school on my way to the movies, in a part of town in which none of the movie-goers lived. During a recent trip, I ran into an ex's best friend (to whom I have not spoken since said ex and I broke up more than a year ago) in a random part of LA. I ran into a college friend around the corner from my apartment, and then another one at the airport on my way home from Austin. I ran into Sister's best friend from high school at a candy store in Manhattan, and I ran into a soon-to-be co-worker who lives in Brooklyn, buying a shower curtain in downtown Manhattan. Today, while eating lunch, I ran into an old camp friend I hadn't seen since before I went to college, and a few weeks ago I ran into someone from that same camp in a Starbucks on the upper west side. There is only one explanation for all of this. I am clearly emitting some sort of magnetic force that is pulling anyone I've ever met in my life towards me. [Did I mention I just watched Fantastic Four 1 and 2?] This is a warning, people. If you see someone with newly trimmed bangs who you think might be me, even in a random part of town where I would be unlikely to step foot, it's me. Say hello. Or smile and wave. Or nod. Or just walk past me with the knowledge that you avoided an awkward run-in. (But then, if a run-in with me would be awkward, then why are you reading my blog? Huh? Right.)
One more thing: Maine, I used to like you. A lot. I shopped at your outlet malls and ate your fine fresh shellfish. I enjoyed your cute little seaside towns and trading posts and took advantage of your lower sales tax. But, Maine, you have let me down. While I will still probably do all of the things I just mentioned, I now like you less. That is all.
Monday, October 26, 2009
To the stables and beyond.
One of the best things about being back in New York is the unique opportunity for style watching this city offers. Fall is an especially interesting time to observe people's fashion choices, as New Yorkers rush to show off their new winter wear the minute the temperature drops below 60 degrees. A fashion trend of particular importance this fall seems to be the leggings-boots combo. Now, I'll be the first to defend leggings. They're super comfy, wearable with all kinds of footwear and jewelry, and acceptable bottoms at most nighttime establishments. They come in different fabrics, patterns, and colors, and you can pair them with t-shirts, dressy shirts, belts...the options are endless! And, of course, I like boots, too. I'll wear cowboy boots, short-heeled boots, suede flat boots, and UGG-type boots (but only in appropriate weather conditions, unlike most of Los Angeles...). I'm also a big fan of the riding boots lots of women are wearing these days. I have no basis for this, but I credit Ralph Lauren with the popularity of this style. Pair it with the right tweed jacket, and these cosmopolitan women look like they're ready for a day at the stables. It's so country. So British. Ah, just love it. But my personal tastes aside, some of the boots women are wearing this fall border on the absolute ridiculous. Above-the-knee stiletto pointy-toed boots? Thigh-high leather boots so tight they look like they were painted on- and without zippers? Tall boots instead of pants? Check out this slide show to see what I'm talking about. The boots and women pictured here are in Paris, but clearly New York women are taking their fall fashion cues from the French.
Brother and I spent yesterday morning and afternoon peddling our latest art prints [check out the Famous Seniors art at www.senioritis.net] in Union Square. Wow, what an interesting cross-section of New Yorkers. We set up our table on the west side of the park, next to this awesome comic writer/illustrator who describes his work as "The Far Side meets the Bible." [His name is Cuyler Black if you want to look him up.] Some of his stuff was hilarious. And who doesn't like a good Bible joke? I know I do. Anyway, nicest guy ever. He liked our work and was totally encouraging- he didn't even laugh at us when it took us 20 minutes to make our table fold back into its compact position at the end of the afternoon. The guy on our other side looked like a totally coked-out wannabe rock star slash Edward Scissorhands, tiny and clad in all black. His lady friend wore a fur vest/coat/mystery item held together by safety pins. I thought they looked like former rock stars turned homeless people. Brother said her safety pinned vest thing probably cost thousands of dollars. I was skeptical. Anyhoo, Brother googled their artwork (pretty sweet Japanese pop art) when he got home later and told me about the guy. It turns out he is a former rock star! Played with greats like Billy Idol and Joan Jett before abandoning the stage to pursue his new calling. Oh, New York, how I love thee. The day itself went pretty well. People seemed to really like our stuff, except, of course, for this one d-bag old man who was insulted that our name was senioritis, calling it a "terrible name" and warning "you really need to work on your marketing." Oddly, he remained at our table for a full five minutes, and while berating me about our company name, he managed to look through our entire book of artwork. Ha, some people are just so miserable.
In other news, Halloween is just around the corner. I have a wedding to attend on Halloween. I have one suggestion to make on this topic: if you are presently unmarried, do not plan your wedding for Halloween. People young and old(ish) look forward to Halloween all year. Girls (though not this girl) can dress like whores without (too much) judgment, guys can play with makeup without (too much) judgment, and everyone is happy. The only thing that can put a damper on such a glorious holiday is having to dress up in formal attire and celebrate something totally unrelated to gorging oneself on candy and honoring all that is black and orange. At least the wedding is during the day, and I can salvage the rest of my Halloween by attending a party with both Brother and Sister. Ideas on do-it-yourself three person costumes are welcome and appreciated.
Post Script--
The wedding was actually very fun. While they didn't have a Halloween theme or black and orange flowers, they did wrap bare branches around various objects in lieu of flowers. Perhaps a slight nod to the underworld/undead/all that is spooky? More likely a reminder that it is fall in New York. Either way, I was a big fan. And what can beat dancing to alternating 60's music and current hip hop? I'll tell you what: 80's music. All 80's, all the time.
Speaking of 80's, Brother, Sister, and I donned our finest 80's gear for Halloween night when we drove 30 minutes to join others in costumes to watch the Yankees beat the Phillies. [Unfortunately, the Yanks are having no such luck this evening, as 2 solo 7th inning homers just increased the Phillies' lead to 8-2. BAH.] Between the wedding, Yankees, and Halloween, I consumed a healthy week's worth of calories in three days. Awesome.
Brother and I spent yesterday morning and afternoon peddling our latest art prints [check out the Famous Seniors art at www.senioritis.net] in Union Square. Wow, what an interesting cross-section of New Yorkers. We set up our table on the west side of the park, next to this awesome comic writer/illustrator who describes his work as "The Far Side meets the Bible." [His name is Cuyler Black if you want to look him up.] Some of his stuff was hilarious. And who doesn't like a good Bible joke? I know I do. Anyway, nicest guy ever. He liked our work and was totally encouraging- he didn't even laugh at us when it took us 20 minutes to make our table fold back into its compact position at the end of the afternoon. The guy on our other side looked like a totally coked-out wannabe rock star slash Edward Scissorhands, tiny and clad in all black. His lady friend wore a fur vest/coat/mystery item held together by safety pins. I thought they looked like former rock stars turned homeless people. Brother said her safety pinned vest thing probably cost thousands of dollars. I was skeptical. Anyhoo, Brother googled their artwork (pretty sweet Japanese pop art) when he got home later and told me about the guy. It turns out he is a former rock star! Played with greats like Billy Idol and Joan Jett before abandoning the stage to pursue his new calling. Oh, New York, how I love thee. The day itself went pretty well. People seemed to really like our stuff, except, of course, for this one d-bag old man who was insulted that our name was senioritis, calling it a "terrible name" and warning "you really need to work on your marketing." Oddly, he remained at our table for a full five minutes, and while berating me about our company name, he managed to look through our entire book of artwork. Ha, some people are just so miserable.
In other news, Halloween is just around the corner. I have a wedding to attend on Halloween. I have one suggestion to make on this topic: if you are presently unmarried, do not plan your wedding for Halloween. People young and old(ish) look forward to Halloween all year. Girls (though not this girl) can dress like whores without (too much) judgment, guys can play with makeup without (too much) judgment, and everyone is happy. The only thing that can put a damper on such a glorious holiday is having to dress up in formal attire and celebrate something totally unrelated to gorging oneself on candy and honoring all that is black and orange. At least the wedding is during the day, and I can salvage the rest of my Halloween by attending a party with both Brother and Sister. Ideas on do-it-yourself three person costumes are welcome and appreciated.
Post Script--
The wedding was actually very fun. While they didn't have a Halloween theme or black and orange flowers, they did wrap bare branches around various objects in lieu of flowers. Perhaps a slight nod to the underworld/undead/all that is spooky? More likely a reminder that it is fall in New York. Either way, I was a big fan. And what can beat dancing to alternating 60's music and current hip hop? I'll tell you what: 80's music. All 80's, all the time.
Speaking of 80's, Brother, Sister, and I donned our finest 80's gear for Halloween night when we drove 30 minutes to join others in costumes to watch the Yankees beat the Phillies. [Unfortunately, the Yanks are having no such luck this evening, as 2 solo 7th inning homers just increased the Phillies' lead to 8-2. BAH.] Between the wedding, Yankees, and Halloween, I consumed a healthy week's worth of calories in three days. Awesome.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Just my luck.
Like most ordinary people (huge assumption here), I look forward to a nice refreshing shower after a hard workout. I had such a workout this morning, as I enjoyed my building's gym after my building-mates had left for work. Unfortunately, when I returned to my apartment and turned the knob to run the water, absolutely nothing happened. Oh, except for the hissing sound coming from the pipe. At first I wondered whether, after 5 days of being out of town, I had forgotten how to turn on the shower. I quickly turned to the sink and twisted the hot water knob. No water there either. I called the building manager and was told that there was a problem and the water had to be turned off. It would be back on in a few minutes, he assured me.
I waited thirty minutes and tried again. Still no luck. I got an email from Austin City Limits, announcing that their early bird 3-day passes for next year's festival were officially on sale. I clicked on "Buy Now" and was taken to a cyber "waiting room." I opened two more windows in my attempt to purchase an advance pass, all of which took me to the same waiting room. Finally, I refreshed the initial Buy Now window, and received the news that the advance passes were sold out. Fun morning, eh? All I can say is it's a good thing there was a Law & Order marathon on USA all day today. Oh, and for the record, Olivia Benson makes a WAY better detective than Dani Beck. [Additionally, upon imdb-ing Benson's alter ego Mariska Hargitay, I learned that she met her husband on the set of Law & Order. A useless bit of information that for some reason made me very happy.]
After five hours of waiting, I decided I could mask my sweaty exterior with perfume and a big sweatshirt, so I left my building for the first time all day. A Starbucks visit and grocery shop later, I returned to my building and was greeted by one of my fabulous doormen [no sarcasm there; I adore them] who remarked with a smile, "Your hot water has returned." Overjoyed, I practically ran to the elevator bank.
It was top 10 best shower of all time.
Tomorrow normal life resumes as I hope to make it out of the apartment sometime before 4pm.
I waited thirty minutes and tried again. Still no luck. I got an email from Austin City Limits, announcing that their early bird 3-day passes for next year's festival were officially on sale. I clicked on "Buy Now" and was taken to a cyber "waiting room." I opened two more windows in my attempt to purchase an advance pass, all of which took me to the same waiting room. Finally, I refreshed the initial Buy Now window, and received the news that the advance passes were sold out. Fun morning, eh? All I can say is it's a good thing there was a Law & Order marathon on USA all day today. Oh, and for the record, Olivia Benson makes a WAY better detective than Dani Beck. [Additionally, upon imdb-ing Benson's alter ego Mariska Hargitay, I learned that she met her husband on the set of Law & Order. A useless bit of information that for some reason made me very happy.]
After five hours of waiting, I decided I could mask my sweaty exterior with perfume and a big sweatshirt, so I left my building for the first time all day. A Starbucks visit and grocery shop later, I returned to my building and was greeted by one of my fabulous doormen [no sarcasm there; I adore them] who remarked with a smile, "Your hot water has returned." Overjoyed, I practically ran to the elevator bank.
It was top 10 best shower of all time.
Tomorrow normal life resumes as I hope to make it out of the apartment sometime before 4pm.
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