Don'cha know

There's a new blog out there people. Well, there are a lot of new blogs every day, but this one is my sister's blog. Leah is getting a promotion to General Manager of the Nordstrom Cafe... in Minnesota. She refers to it as her exile to the frozen tundra, which I believe is pretty accurate. Seeing how awesome my blog is she's decided to do the same, and chronicle her move to the great north. Let's just hope she doesn't get frostbite on her fingers and can continue to type!

Check out her aptly named new blog, Ya Hey Der, at http://YaHeyDer.blogspot.com/. I've placed a link to the right as well.

Good luck Leah!!!

Happy Festivus!

Cause photos are cool

I just found this little project by photoblogger Dalton Rooney. I don't know why, but I love these pictures taken in my new home town. The Brooklyn Detention Complex is right by my apartment. Don't worry, it's closed now.

I added a link to his photoblog to the right, it's called seriously excited!. Take a look, there's some great stuff there.

Chocolate in a pouch - Awful or Awesome?

I feel I don't really need to ask if this is awful or awesome... I have a pretty strong feeling its unquestionably awful. But these molten chocolate Lava Bars seem to have the hook up. Everyone who's anyone knows that winning the prestigious Convenience Store News Best New Product Award will send your sales through the roof.

This image is from the website, explaining why we should all eat chocolate from a pouch.A few comments:

Point #1) When I think of chocolate in a pouch, I don't think "gourmet." I pretty much assume the experience will be akin to eating one of those awful PoweBar gel pack things. I don't care how much faster the nutrients enter your body, it's still nasty. I also didn't realize it was such a hassle to chew chocolate. Even if you are extraordinarily lazy and don't want to chew your chocolate, you have to wait, what, 30 seconds before the chocolate melts in your mouth? And isn't there something to be said for savoring a piece of chocolate? Why do we need a "CHOCOLATE RUSH?" I myself enjoy a nice piece of dark chocolate from time to time and like that it takes a while to melt. That way I eat less of it. I mean, I enjoy it for longer... before I shove more in my mouth.

Point #2) Is there really a concern about melting chocolate bar messes? Are people carrying chocolate bars in their pockets and ruining their pants? Are these bars marketed to people living in such a climate that chocolate melts the second it leaves an air conditioned environment? Are chocolate bars really seen to be non-portable to the point that some alternative must be created? I suppose I'm just in the minority of people who don't worry about chocolate messes and portability issues. I must be a freak.

Point #3) And... how is this different from chocolate syrup?

One final thought... how in the name of Zeus does a product like this become so big in California? They are supposed to be our country's food conscious. They are the redeemers. They make the rest of our big fat country look good (even if by surgical means). California, you have let us all down. Especially you LA. I expected more from you.

And the winner is....

The winner of the first Strange in the City Photo Headline Contest is: Her headline was: "Arizona Santa Claus Missing - Found on the streets of NYC organizing a Santa Labor Union." Now, I'm not sure why they were from Arizona, but I loved the idea of a Santa Labor Union. I imagine them picketing on Fifth Ave in front of Saks and it makes me laugh. Everyone else; good effort, nice try, better luck next time. More funny photos to come!

Horror of horrors

The Scene:

I'm on the subway around 6:45pm last night, a few minutes from pulling in to my station in Brooklyn. I'm standing with my back to the door, with a bag of groceries between my legs, reading a book. I see this seated woman across from me rise out of the corner of my eye. I don't know why, but I look up. She makes eye contact and asks, "Would you like to sit?"

I shake my head and say, "No thanks, I'm getting off at the next stop." I'm confused because there are a few other people standing, all of whom are closer to her than I am.

She gets up and walks over towards the doors I'm standing by. She says, "I'm getting off here too, but I just noticed you now."

I'm thinking... does she think I need to sit because I have a bag of groceries? No, that's ridiculous. Perhaps she has ESP and somehow knows that my bad ankle is bothering me inside my heeled boots? No, that's even more ridiculous. As I continue reading my book with my head down I notice my sweater. My adorable new sweater that has a little gathering at the stomach that makes it poof out a little before falling to (what I thought was) a flattering A-line cut.

And I realize with horror... this woman thinks I'm pregnant. Noticeably pregnant.

I wanted to turn to her and say "Excuse me, I appreciate your offer, but I'm not pregnant... and I'm throwing away this sweater."

But I didn't, because I know if I ever assumed someone was pregnant when they aren't I would be absolutely mortified. I don't know anyone who isn't terrified of making that mistake. So I bit my tounge with this lady standing next to me for what seemed like an hour, when in real time it was more like 30 seconds, as the train pulled into the station.

Okay, I admit, I was upset. I really love this sweater and didn't think it made me look preggers. I'd received many compliments since it's debut in my wardrobe less than 3 weeks ago, but all the complimenters know me. They are aware that I'm an unmarried child-hating void of a human who would never find herself pregnant. So they can look at just the sweater and know I'm not hiding any baby-bulge underneath. I know it's not my actual shape making me look pregnant. I may have added a few extra pounds since the ankle injury has kept me off the treadmill, but not that many. It was definitely the sweater.

But I love the sweater, and my friends love the sweater, so I'm going to keep it and continue to wear it with joy. But if someone else offers me a seat on the subway I'm sending it off to a special place to be with its elder sweater family.

But are you funnier than I am?

Everyone loves an interactive blog, right? Right. So today I bring you the very first (drum roll please) Strange in the City Photo Headline Contest. All you people out there in blogland can leave a comment with a funny headline for the photo... and I'll post the winner a week later. Seeing as I am a poor New Yorker there is no actual prize, except the overwhelming feeling of superiority over your fellow readers because you are the wittiest of them all. And since this is my blog, I deem who is the funniest.

Without further ado, the first picture:


I wish I could say that I took this picture, but it was my mom who spotted this scene on Fifth Avenue. She and her friend Lisa were visiting New York this past weekend and thought it was pretty funny because this shifty band of half-composed Santas looked like they were up to no good. My Headline:

"Ocean's Eleven Disorganized in NY; Other Five Still Stuck in Tiffany's Revolving Door"

Have at it people.

Awful or Awesome?

This is just awful enough to be completely awesome.

Oh Christmas [Ski] Tree

The Ski Tree is finally finished. As you can see, I went with the green tree with "ski slopes" spiraling down. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. I'm looking forward to the years ahead as I collect more skiing ornaments. Someday in the future I'll be able to look back and have fond memories of where and when I bought each one or who gave them to me.

This is my first real Christmas Tree that isn't at my parent's house... guess I'm an adult now. Or something like that. Previous to this I had this sad little gold ornament holder from Pier 1. It was time to grow up. And it got crushed in the move.

On a related note, I've been taking pictures around town of Christmas displays, lights and happenings. I'll build a new photo album soon to share them with you.

No quiero Taco Bell

If you are insane and still eating at Taco Bell beyond the age of sixteen, this is your punishment.

Ah, Christmas in New York

So I'm trying to pick out the perfect Christmas tree for my New York apartment. At first I came across the upside-down Christmas tree, which really appealed to me as it is both floorspace-saving and quirky. And you all know how much I love to be quirky. So I really honed in on (alright, obsessed about) this idea for a few days. But these trees are really expensive! I found a few cheap ones on ebay, but I expect I will be about as impressed by them as the price suggests.

As I continued my search for the inexpensive yet totally amazing upside-down tree I ran across a type of tree I never knew existed; the Manhattan Flatback. Now THIS is a good idea. Why suffer with a small little piddly tree when you can have all the splendor of a seven-footer in half the space. I love it. Hey, you live in New York. You don't have a bay window in the front. You probably don't have a fireplace, or at least a working one for Santa to squeeze his butt down. Your kids aren't waking up on Christmas morning and excitedly running down the staircase to see what Santa left under the tree which is situated in front of your large windows displaying the splendor of the freshly fallen white snow on the lawn. They are waking up, shuffling down the hallway of your 1.5 bedroom apartment to a tree that is backed up to a wall, next to a window displaying plows which are loudly shuffling slush around the streets below to see what presents you placed there which they had previously located because you had nowhere else to hide them but the entry closet. Why pretend otherwise.

How is IKEA not on top of both of these ideas?

But I still wasn't convinced that I'd found the right tree for me. So I looked to my Christmas tree goal. For a while now I've been collecting a few ski ornaments each year. My goal is to eventually have a full-sized Christmas tree with all ski ornaments. I have cleverly called it The Ski Tree. So I thought, what kind of tree do my ornaments want? A white one representing all snow, or a green one with that cottony stuff circling down from the top like a long, winding ski run. I'm still on the fence about which one is best. I think this weekend I will leave the world of online shopping and actually venture out into the real world and see what I find out there. Athough I might have to throw a few elbows out there. You know, 'cause it's Christmas in New York.

"I swear I didn't print my own ticket"

Because of my move to New York this year I was travelling for Thanksgiving no matter what. So I decided to head down to Florida to stay with my Aunt Susan and Uncle Fred to eat turkey and stuffing by the pool. They live near Fort Meyers, which means from New York my choices in flights ranged from ridiculously expensive to Bill-Gates-couldn't-afford-it pricing on most airlines... except for USA 3000. I figured, how bad could it be?

On Wednesday the 22nd Greg and I fought our way through the crowds to Newark airport. We got to the USA 3000 check-in desk where there were no lines. We walk up and the guy takes our licenses and searches through a printed document for our names. He can't seem to find them. We're wondering why he's not just looking us up on the computer. Another employee tells him where our names are (obviously not in alphabetical order, or I hope not for his sake). We ask if we are sitting together and he said that would be tough. Next thing we know he hands over the handwritten boarding pass you see below on what looks like yellow contsruction paper with the gate and seat assignments written in... and the seats are in fact, not together.


My first thought is that somewhere during the long trip to the airport we slipped into some kind of time-travel Star Trek wormhole that transported us back the the Pan Am era. Not so. For our first step through the security gates was this crazy machine you step into that blasts air at you to detect bomb stuff or too much perfume or something like that. In any event, it was brand new, so we obviously hadn't slipped back in time. And it wasn't the airport, Newark is actually quite nicely renovated. Apparently, it was just USA 3000... behind the times.

Other than leaving late (normal) and having a bumpy ride (weather) we made it to Fort Meyers unscathed. Thanksgiving was quiet and delicious. We feasted on more calories than we would require for the entire week. It was awesome. Sadly, now it's back to work for another month.

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!

Groovy

Attention Evil Dead Fans!!! You MUST come to New York now!

Last night I went to see Evil Dead: The Musical with a few friends from work. I haven't laughed so hard in the theater since Matthew Broderick and Nathan Lane were in The Producers... and well, that was a whole different kind of funny. The Producers didn't have a "bloody splash zone." That's right, people sitting in the first two rows at Evil Dead get a complimentary poncho, and they needed it.

And now, a Best Of list about the musical:

Best new line not from one of the movies: "I bitch slapped her with my one good hand."

Best executed line from one of the movies: "This... is my BOOMSTICK!"

Best song: "What the Fuck Was That?"

Best Sam Raimi reference: "I was stuck watching Spiderman on the plane. God, how bad was the direction on that film?"

Absolute funniest scene: When all the stuff in the cabin starts rattling and the posessed wall-mounted moose (which looks like a child's stuffed animal) starts singing in a Disney-style voice, "You will join us!"

So basically, it was awesome. Even people who haven't seen any of the Evil Dead movies will find it a hilarious spoof on horror movies. And of course, even though you see each and every one of them coming, all the Ash one-liners are fantastic. I'll defintitely be going back with anyone who wants to see it.

Life and Death

Sorry I haven't been around lately, dear readers. Things have been quite hectic at work and my past two weekends were jam-packed with family fun. My aunt, Susan, came for a visit in New York and we had a great time together. I dragged her all over the city and wouldn't let her Marco Island behind touch the seat of a cab. We took the subway everywhere. Or we walked. I would imagine she was pretty tired when she got home and definitely relieved to have her car back.

This past weekend I was back home in Chicago for my mother's birthday. I will withhold her age as she doesn't look like it anyway so it doesn't matter one bit. At one point she said she was officially old, but I think Leah and I convinced her to put that thought off for another ten years or so. We had a very full weekend in which we saw a play, had a wonderful long birthday dinner, had some drinks, went bowling and shopped. Somewhere in between I also managed to have drinks with Rob and Nicole, and brunch with Melissa. I was a tired girl when I got home at 12:30am after my flight on Sunday night. Working till 3am the next day didn't help.

Don't worry, I'm back on track and well rested again as I write this post. Of course I face Friday and Sunday deadlines that threaten my relaxation/sleep level and my weekend, but that's what it's like right now with everyone pushing to get projects done before the holidays. My December should be wide open.

Between these two wonderful weekends I experienced a very unusual thing while I was at work. Last Wednesday, a little under an hour before I got in a construction worker fell from 19 stories up directly across the street from my office. He landed on the scaffolding below, and was pronounced dead on the scene. Out the windows in the office, I had a view of his body near the edge of the scaffolding wrapped in a white bag or tarp, with a puddle of blood spattered on the sidewalk below that had dripped down. Detectives and crime scene people were up there taking pictures, checking out the body and clearing the scene as office workers looked on. Below, the yellow crime tape only sections off the area with the blood, allowing people to pass right under the scaffolding, where the officers work above with his body.

It first strikes me that it's kinda creepy that everyone walking under the scaffolding is walking directly under a dead man. Then I observe that almost no one takes notice of the pool of blood on the sidewalk. It's not a small pool. One lady followed her dog under the tape to let him take a sniff... oblivious to the substance he was sniffing, and ignoring the yellow tape. The cop standing nearby stopped her, I'm sure in a "what's wrong with you lady?" kind of way.

It occurred to me that I should take a picture. Not because I'm morbid or entirely obsessed with CSI, but to capture this moment about how life is. The day started for this man working side-by-side with his brother refacing a building. In short time his brother watched him fall to his death. As my office mates and I watched the police work, somewhere the family was in mourning, and the brother getting the name of a therapist. Meanwhile, New Yorkers go about their days. Walking directly underneath this poor man, and next to his blood on the sidewalk; thinking about being on-time to work, or late for a meeting, or on the way to an interview. Maybe looking forward to lunch with an old friend or buying a special present for an anniversary or birthday. Probably not thinking about death.

And this is how life is. One family is having the worst possible day, while another is prospering. It ebbs and flows. We never know when tomorrow could be a horrible day... or a wonderful day. Luckily the majority of them are going to be just plain old normal days.

So I did take a picture. Because I would have regretted not doing so; because this moment spoke to me like art should, but most doesn't. It is posted below (don't look if you don't want to). You'll see a small sliver of white above the Bank of America sign... that's the guy wrapped up. You'll see people paying no notice to the blood on the sidewalk; even with yellow tape, an orange cone and a cop surrounding it. Think about it and make your own conclusions about how you live your life, not that any of you are bad people (surely you aren't 'cause you must know me and therefore must be nice). But maybe think about taking an extra moment to notice a pretty sunset without assuming there will be another to follow. Or telling someone how much they mean to you for no reason other than that they should know. Or don't be a jerk to strangers out in the world just because everyone else is. Okay, maybe that last one was directed at my New York-specific readers, not that any of them are actual jerks.

That's just some of the stuff this picture makes me think about. I hope to be a better person everyday because of something horrible that didn't happen to me, but merely happened around me. And that's something he left behind that he will never know. He altered my perceptions a little, and maybe yours too. Not too shabby for a guy I never met.

I live in 1984

Last night I was lugging my laundry across the street to the laundromat when I heard music. I looked to my right, and there he was... a guy holding a boom box. I almost tripped when I saw him. I couldn't believe it. When the "ghetto blaster" craze was at it's height I still wasn't allowed to leave the neighborhood alone. And here was a guy, 20 years later, walking down my street, carrying a rather large all-black boom box.

Perhaps he's a throwback to a simpler time, rebelling against iPods and, hell, even portable CD players. But maybe the boom box never faded away. The craze may have passed but the boom box held tight and persevered these many years. Maybe we haven't seen the last of the boom box...

Apple could be working on something right now.

Do you have what it takes to be a Squash Steward?

This is hilarious not only because it's amazing that people take squash (the fruit) this seriously, but also because using the word "squash" so often is just funny.

Who knew?

Apparently the subway is by far the safest way to travel in New York...

There's a reason the Mayor takes the subway.
Commuter railroads may seem nicer, but make sure to look down.
The cops on New Jersey roads aren't making me feel better about the state, or travelling on the highways.

Left my cobra on the N train

During my morning commute I generally read for the duration of the subway ride, fitting right in with the rest of New Yorkers who are forced to be together in order to get where they are going, but fervently taking measures to interact as little as possible. The only time I do look up is to check the weather and the view as the train passes over the Manhattan bridge. Today, however, the train was exceptionally crowded, making it hard to read. So I looked around. Right above me was an ad for the MTA Lost Property Unit. I had seen the sign before but only at a glance and never really looked at it. Today I did. I was amazed at the things people seem to lose on the subway.


I realize it can be difficult to keep track of your cobra, but how do you leave behind a prosthetic limb? Don't you need that? Along the same lines, how do you get on the subway with a crutch and exit without it? Are people miraculously healed while riding on certain lines? Does Jesus live on the subway? Because if this is the case I've still got a sprained ankle that could use a miracle, and I'd like to know which line he rolls on.

Clearly this sign begs more questions than it answers. But it is nice to know that if I'm old and still living in New York I will be able to get my dentures back when they fall out of my mouth on the bus to the bingo hall.

Even elevators need a holiday

This was posted in my building today...

That elevator better be well rested and ready to work when it's back in on Tuesday!

Sign me up

I never understood the need for Tivo. I have always considered it one of those technologies that would be nice to have if you just had money lying around. Like CD players when they first came out, or cell phones before they detached from the bag in the car. I mean, really people, if you are going to be out during the occasional episode, it's okay, you can use your $25 VCR to record that hour you just can't miss. And this system has worked just fine for me for a very long time.

Until now.

Now I have a real job. A job where I'm the last person to touch the output of a project before sending it on to the client. A job where most of the work comes in sometime after noon, and continues from there. A job where I tend to be the last to leave on my project team.

Don't misunderstand, I really love my job. The work is fun and the people are amusing. And they really start getting silly once its past dinner time. Tonight my boss, the VP of Production (who shaves his head), comes walking back to his desk when a young woman on my Rockwell team just blurts out, "Eugene, your head looks really shiny today." It was maybe the funniest random bizarre comment pulled out of thin air that I've heard in ages. Luckily for her, Eugene is kinda awesome, took it as the strangest compliment ever and laughed.

But back on track... I like TV. I know, it's bad. It's rotting my brain. I shouldn't watch TV-- I should read, or cook, or walk through the park avoiding unsavory characters. I do like to read, but I read on the subway. I don't mind cooking, but only do it out of necessity to eat. And I do really like to walk through the park, but just not at night. So, yeah, when I get home from thinking all day, I like to unwind by escaping my reality and watching fake peoples' lives, followed by the fake news compliments of Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert.

I'll generally be working late, sometimes quite late, and mostly I can't plan ahead for when that will be. Sure, I could set up my VCR every morning to tape the shows I like that night just in case I won't be home... but lets be real here. Even if I didn't cut it within an inch of being right-on-time every day and actually had the time to set it, most of the time I would forget anyway. So I admit to all of you, my dear readers, in front of the gods of the internet and whoever might be reading over your shoulder that...

I need Tivo.

Hey, put away the violins! This isn't only about me. I just learned tonight that the show my TV Boyfriend is on has moved to a half an hour earlier on Monday. What kind of TV-stalker Girlfriend would I be if I didn't watch him every single week? A bad one, that's what.

So this weekend I will call Time Warner to settle an incorrect billing issue that has been festering for too long, and reward them for their incopetence by giving them more money for their DVR service. It's the price I'll have to pay... can't risk missing my boy on Monday night.

Sweet Home Chicago

This weekend I was back in Chicago for my sister's 26th birthday. That's the two of us... looking nothing alike, but we love each other anyway.

It was a great weekend. Leah, Mom and I had dinner together Friday night at a very yummy restaurant, Hot Chocolate, where we ate way too much but it's hard not to at that place. Saturday we shopped together during the day, and many pairs of shoes were purchased. After shopping Mom's boyfriend, Homer, joined us for sushi dinner at Coast. Mmmmm.

Afterwards Mom, Homer and I dropped Leah off and went to the Shakespeare Rep Theater for a performance of Hamlet (We didn't ditch her, she had no interest in seeing it.) The performance was a little disappointing. Mom and I have a subscription to this theater where we see three plays a year. Usually we love them, and I was really looking forward to this because I like Hamlet a lot. But the performance was just okay this time. Bummer.

Sunday I had brunch with Rob and Nicole and hung out with Mom in Millennium Park. Seeing one of my best friends and walking around the park on such a beautiful day, soaking up the architecture and the feeling of the city really made me miss Chicago. It was quite hard getting on the plane to come back to New York (and not just because I wasn't looking forward to hanging out on the jetway for an hour before taking off). Even though I love my job and think New York is an amazing place, I miss Chicago a ton. I assume these feelings will fade over time... I've only been here for two months, my job is brand new and I have just a few friends here right now. In time I'll settle in, meet more pople and dig in to the job. But Chicago will always be the city I call home, for a million reasons.

So in this post I give a big shout out to Chicago... and shall return to the strangeness of New York soon. Perhaps this week I'll be able to snap a picture of the crazy guy kicking a filthy amoeba shaped pillow around Union Square.

Finally

Yesterday was my first day at Iomedia. It was a lazy day, I just familiarized myself with the work, had a quick orientation and reviewed the digital resources. But it was a great day. It is a very laid back company, and everyone I met seems very cool and outgoing. At the end of the day one of the VPs pulled a box of gear out of a closet with hats, t-shirts and winter vests. But they weren't lame, they were really nice. None of the vests fit, but I do have a cute shirt and hat for skiing! It's pretty rare to work for a company where the employees are so proud to work there that they are clamoring over branded gear. I actually work for the cool company everyone wants to work for, and I'm not sure how that happened... but its going to be great. I'm really looking forward to getting to know everyone.

And the location can't be beat. Its in Union Square, which has everything. All the shopping chains and designer stores you would want, including Whole Foods and the only Trader Joe's in the city. Since the neighborhood I live in has a lot of little boutiques but is short on the go-to necessities, working here means I have the best of both worlds. Once I learn where everything is I won't feel so stuck with limited resources in Brooklyn. Don't get me wrong, I love living in Brooklyn, but it's just a little harder to get what you need when you live in a very residential area in New York. In Chicago when you need to run an errand for something you just pop in your car and go. Done. Here, you have to figure out where it might be sold, and it may not be able to be found within walking distance. So then you would have to find a store and take the subway to it, which can kill a lot of time if you aren't already out. Now I'll be able to get whatever I need on lunch or after work. Sweet.

I'm looking forward to jumping in to the job next week. Whoo-hoo!

Put away the porn, we've got company

It's our first guests to the new apartment... Jerry and Jenna! You all remember those aren't their actual names, right? Gotta pay attention on this blog.

They came over on Sunday to check out my new digs, and also to accompany me to the Atlantic Antic, a yearly street festival, that as you can see in the picture, takes place on my street. It was a fun way to see all the restaurants and shops in my new neighborhood, and get outside after a long week with my ankle on ice. In addition to all the restaurants with tables and the usual fair fare, I was introduced to a new kind of food I've never seen before. The best way to describe it is a fried mozzarella sandwich with round corn bread instead of regular bread. I would have never thought to put these two things together. But hey, if Emeril makes them, they must be ligit (too legit?). It tasted like fried corn cakes with some gooey texture since street-fair quality mozzarella really doesn't have any flavor. I didn't even finish the entire thing and it filled me up, so sadly I wasn't able to taste any other foods there, except for sangria... because let's face it, there's always room for sangria.

There were a ton of stands for animal accessories. One had such cute stuff I just wanted to get a little dog to put in the shirts. If your dog is cooler than you are, visit www.spoiledrottendogz.com. My only non-food purchase all day was a new black and orange jar candle to add to my ever growing stash of Halloween goodies. It's right around the corner girls and boys... do you know your costume yet?

I took just a few pictures from the weekend and added them to my New York album. If you want to check them out you can click the link to the right under Photo Albums.

Yesterday was my last day in the Accenture New York office. I'm still working through Thursday from home but had to turn in my badge. I'm so excited about my new job this Friday, but it's still hard to leave Accenture... the people, the hours, the working in pajamas. I had to stop at H&M on my way home to secure another outfit for IO Media, as I have very few these days. I'll be working with a very cutting-edge client, so I have to look the part when I meet with them. I bet I have to behave like a responsible adult too. Huh.

Cha-cha-cha-cha-changes!

If you check out the sidebar you'll notice there are a few changes to the blog. First thing is that I've added a section which links to my online photo albums. As I create more albums I'll link to them here for your viewing pleasure. A little further down and you'll see that I now have a place where people can subscribe to my blog directly. If you sign up you will receive an e-mail each time I post something new to the site. So if you want to keep up with the very latest, go for it. If you'd rather just check in randomly, that's cool too.

Over time you'll notice more changes as I find fun new sites to link to, become more familiar with this whole blogging world, and learn more about modifying my blog template in HTML. Who knows, maybe one day you'll all be able to waste hours of your valuable working time just tooling around my site. Okay, that may be a bit ambitious.

Job update: My last day at Accenture will be the 21st, and I start full time at IO Media on the 22nd. Very excited.

I'm mostly back on my feet after the big embarrasing spill in the park last Friday, so the site will be back to its usual hijinx this weekend when I'm able to get out again!

A Call to Furry Arms

Recently I have learned that the shelter I used to walk dogs for in Chicago, Furry Friends Foundation, is going to be closing it's doors. It's not worth getting into the reasons because its more than a little confusing, but they hope to adopt out all the animals before closing, rather then re-place them in other shelters. The volunteers have done an amazing job placing so many of the remaining animals, but there are still a few dogs and a ton of wonderful cats who need happy homes.

If you have been thinking about getting a pet or adding to your current furry family, please take a moment to look at the boys and girls still up for adption at www.furryfriendsfoundation.com. I never met any of the cats due to allergies but know there is a kitty for every personality. I also know many of the dogs from walking them every week, and I can tell you a few of them are very special and absolute dolls. I believe the shelter is going to be doing open houses on Saturdays and participating in as many adoption events around the city as possible.

Please pass this information on to anyone you know who may be thinking about adding a furry friend to their lives. Adoption fees are being waved in certain situations, assuming that potential owners pass the strict adoption application to make sure the animals are still going to wonderful homes that can care for them. If you or anyone you know has any questions about the shelter, upcoming open houses or about the temperment of the sweet pooches who are left, feel free to ask me. If I don't have the answer I'll get it.

Stupid nature

That's right, I'm mad at nature. Last Friday night I decided to go for a run in Prospect Park to start dedicating myself to running again, since it's pretty much the only thing that keeps my weight in check and I just feel better when I'm in shape. I managed to run a few times on the Brooklyn Heights Promenade when we were in the sublet, but have mostly not been working out since the move. I figured, no more excuses. I'm now in the new apartment and mostly unpacked, I landed the new job so job-searching isn't sucking up any time, and I'm just sick of sitting around. Normally I would run on the treadmill, but Greg had told me the park is amazing, and I wanted to check it out.

I warm up by walking there quickly on the noisy city streets, and am amazed by the quiet once I step into the park. I actually turned off my iPod to listen to the quiet. It's wonderful to have that outlet in a very noisy city. There are also lots of surfaces to run on and it is very challenging with all the hills. But the leaves are still quite green and the grass was cut that day so I was having a little trouble breathing deeply (I have asthma and allergies so it can be difficult to excersice oustide at certain times). I was getting tired pretty quickly because of it so I decided to start heading back. Close to the exit I encountered a hill and my foot went right under me. Owwwwwwwww!!!! It was bad, I actually went down and was worried I may have broken my ankle. As I was picking myself up and dusting myself off, I notice that none of the runners or bikers passing me by stopped to help, or even ask if I was okay. There were two guys sitting on stairs not five feet away who were speaking Spanish. They are not even trying to hide the fact that they are watching and clearly talking about me. Jerks.

Luckily I was able to get up. Also lucky that I was close to the exit of the park and was able to slowly hobble out (it's a huge park, being further in would have been a problem). Even more lucky is that my freinds Jerry and Jenna live very close to the park, and certainly much, much closer than my apartment. I knew Jenna was out of town for the weekend and was just hoping that Jerry would be home enjoying his solitude. The thought of hobbling the mile home was more than I could bear, as I had no subway card and no money for a cab. Jerry was home and as soon as I told him what happened he picked me up and carried me to the couch. In no time we had my foot up with ice on it and he was happy to share a little of his Friday night with me. PHEW! When it was time for me to get home he called a car for me, walked me downstairs and gave me money for the ride. "I feel like you are my wife," he joked. To which I replied, "But I'll pay you back!"

Greg was able to work from home for the weekend, so I let him take care of me. Of course that meant I had to endure much mocking peppered with worry for the health of my ankle. For the next two weeks I am still able to work from home for Accenture, so I won't be going into the office this week in order to really rest and let it heal. I refuse to be active too early and risk the ankle not healing properly, no matter how badly I am dying to get out of the house. And I'm REALLY dying to get out of the house. I got flowers from my Aunt Susan and Uncle Fred today as congratuations on the new job, and I was delighted just to make my way down the stairs and get a glimpse of the outside world to sign for the flowers.

So I ban nature. When I am able to run again in a month-ish, I'm going back to my old friend, the treadmill. Sure, there's no color, no wind and no scenery... but there is a TV and no terrain to trip on, so I'm happy there. Nature just isn't my style.

Snakes on a Blog

Just when you thought you were safe from tropical creatures in Brooklyn...

http://wcbstv.com/topstories/local_story_251063302.html

Good juju

And I mean really good juju.

Not only are Greg and I now in our new apartment with our stuff and getting more settled everyday, but... I GOT THE JOB! That's right, you aren't reading things. After a long time of hearing "No way crazy girl with no experience," I finally found a place that said "We love you! You're the best! We can't wait for you to start!" Not only do they love me, but I love them right back.

The company is called IO Media (www.io-media.com - website is under construction right now) and there are about 30 people, mostly men. They do three kinds of digital illustration: architectural (what I do), construction, and healthcare. I will be working specifically for one of thier design/architectural clients. What's great about these guys is that they took off their blinders and looked beyond the original position they were hiring for (mostly production). They recognized my marketing, communication and design skills and have wrapped it all up in a nice little package. They envision that I will actully be helping the client with design ideas as well as doing some of the rendering. I will be the dedicated point person on the project to liase with the client (along with the VP, who works with all clients), so they will be working with me to flush out thier ideas, and I will tell the production people what they want. In that regard I will also be a project manager since I will be making sure everyone is on the same page and the project is moving forward. Along the way I'll be learning 3D Max from the production guys and helping out with making changes in the program.

When Jeremy, the man in charge of hiring, asked me what I thought of that I said, "It sounds so perfect I almost don't believe you." We had a good laugh, and then he offered me $5,000 more a year than I requested during the interview. These guys are good. They aren't trying to jip me. They recognized the talents I have to offer beyond rendering and are paying me right for it. They also realize the value of having someone who can do rendering production and but can also get up from the computer and talk efficiently with the client.

I almost can't belive it. Greg being in New York is what started me looking for work here, and that is what made me realize there is more opportunity here than in Chicago for this kind of work. But taking the short-term marketing job with Accenture just so I could get here was a big risk. This is the payoff. This is the reason I'm here. This makes the move worth it. It's a place I can contribute with all of my skills and have the ability to learn so many new ones. The company is big enough that there is actual upward movement for high-performers. And they aren't even starting me at the bottom. They started me off mid-level, which is so sweet.

I'm still working out what to do with my Accenture gig. IO Media is happy to work something out so I can possibly do both until my assignment is up in November, but I would only be able to do that if I can lower my hours and work nights and weekends. So I'm waiting to hear if Accenture wants to keep me for fewer hours or just let me go. It would be a tough three months of working two jobs, but I would be happy to have the extra cash. We'll see what happens next.

I'm so happy my juju finally got back on my side. It must have felt really badly about being a jerk for so long that it paid me back big time. I think with this grand gesture my juju and I can finally start the healing process. I've missed you juju. My good juju.

F*@&#*ING CABS!

Cab drivers are jerks.

Last night Greg and I stopped at the Target near our house to pick up a few DVDs. It was raining and windy as Ernesto was starting to roll into New York. We are waiting on a busy street trying to catch a cab when one coming from the wrong direction sees us. The guy is in the right lane going the other way on a 4 lane street. He stops traffic, hangs out until he can make the u-turn in the middle of the street and finally make his way to us. We waited for the guy instead of moving on since he was going through all the effort. He pulls up with his doors locked and rolls down the window to ask where we are going. We say where (it was close) and he just pulls away saying that he's headed to Manhattan. We are pissed. We walk a little further and another one pulls up in the middle of the street in a puddle. I'm balancing on one little bit of dry-ish street to find this one too has his doors locked, rolls down his window and asks where we're going. Greg is seriously frustrated and yells, "Open the damn door!" Surprisingly, he did. We get in and this guy pretends he doesn't know how to get where we are going (which he certainly does). We aren't exactly sure either because we don't know all the names of the streets yet. As we are stopped at the first light I tell him he can turn on this street to get back to the main street we are familiar with. He snottily remarks, "You can't turn here, can't you see the huge sign on the street? No left turn." To which Greg replies, "Hey man, we are in the back seat, so no, we can't see the signs at the top of the lightposts. Don't talk to us like we are morons." So now the cabbie is pissed, Greg is pissed, and I'm worried we are going to get dumped somewhere else where we can't get a cab in the rain. Finally we get home and get out, and as we are exiting the cab Greg turns around and says, "You know, you can't pick and choose your fare, you have to take everyone." Then the cabbie starts yelling and arguing with him. Greg closes the door and this guy rolls down his window and continues to yell at us as we are walking down the street. As another guy walks up to get in the cab he locks the doors and asks where he's going.

Now, cabbies are obligated to take you anywhere you want to go in the five boroughs. You also have a right to a cabbie that speaks fluent english, drives safely, dosn't honk unless for safety reasons and doesn't talk on a cell phone. Well, we all know the first is unlikely and the last few are downright impossible. But we let these slide. But making someone stand in a puddle, in the rain, in the middle of a busy street is insane. For this to happen twice in a row is worse.

We should have written down his number and reported him, but we were just too pissed.

Tomorrow, moving day. With luck they will show up in the morning as promised and and we will spend the afternoon with Jerry, Jenna and some of their friends at the Bronx Zoo. I'm not holding my breath.

Just saying "Hi"

Sadly, I don't have much to report since my birthday. I did have a very nice day. The dinner Greg and I went to was excellent and my chocolate dessert was so good I was a little sad that Greg took a bite because it was one less bite for me. (Hey, it was my birthday, I could be selfish for one day!) We were then planning to go to Coney Island over the weekend, but it's been rainy and dreary ever since Friday night. So we had a lazy weekend. Ran some errands, hung around the house watching movies. New York is a very interactive city, you've got to get out to experience the crazy. We thought it was a little strange that there was a line out the door for this greasy take-out spot near Macy's. It was like walking past Garrett's popcorn on Michigan Ave. on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. We had never heard of this place so we couldn't understand the crowd. But then we remembered we were in a tourist area, so certainly none of the people in line were actual New Yorkers... they were probably Midwesterners looking for familiar-looking food.

This upcoming weekend is moving weekend. I have yet to know what day my stuff arrives, the movers tell me it will probably be on the 1st or 2nd, but neither day is guranteed until they call when my things leave. Leave where? Where are my things? I mean, I know they are in storage, but where? Ohio? New York? Nebraska? I am told I will have at least 24 hours notice. So I guess I sit and wait until I get that call. Knowing how movers operate, I'll consider it a success if they show up before Monday.

Where's my birthday pie?

A few years back my sister was working at one of her first pastry jobs in a bakery. A couple of days before my birthday she asked me what kind of cake I wanted. The conversation went something like this:

Leah: What kind of cake do you want for your birthday?
Me: I want a pie.
Leah: You can't have a pie.
Me: Why not?
Leah: Because you have cake on your birthday. It's birthday cake, not birthday pie.
Me: But I like pie more than cake. I don't like all that frosting.
Leah: Well you can't do it.
Me: I want pie. What kind of pies does the bakery make?
Leah: Apple, peach, cherry, etc.
Me: PEACH! That sounds great! I'll have peach birthday pie.
Leah: But you can't write "Happy Birthday" on a pie.
Me: Sure you can, it just won't be flat on top. I'll have a peach pie with "Happy Birthday Lori" written in icing. It'll be great.
Leah: You can't put icing on a pie!
Me: No, but you can.
Leah: You're insane.

Eventually she came around, and a few days later I had a peach pie with "Happy Birthday Lori" written in purple icing. That was four years ago, for my 25th birthday. I haven't had cake on my brithday ever since. I've had pies, tarts, and even baklava, but not cake.

We have fallen into a pattern of celebrating our birthdays twice in my family. On the actual day my mother, sister and I always have dinner together, and then at the closest weekend we'll have another dinner and I usually invite a friend along for that. This year is different. This year I'm in New York, 800 miles away from my family and most of my oldest and dearest friends. Even when I lived in San Diego I flew home for my birthday that year. But unfortunately schedules didn't allow it for this year. It's okay, I'm not complaining, it's just crazy that the first time I am celebrating a birthday without my family is when I turn 29. Lots of people would think that is very strange, and certainly not normal. But I've never cared much for normal anyway.

So this year I am in New York. I'm not alone though, I'm going out to a special dinner with Greg, and will surely be seeing Joe and Shannon (whoops, I mean Jerry and Jenna) very soon. I am very lucky to have such supportive and wonderful friends who have been happy to make time and include me in thier lives to help make this transition a little easier. And I expect to have a very good birthday here in this strange city. I've realized it's a place in which nothing is really normal, and in that regard I fit right in.

I will miss my birthday pie though.

Bad juju

I've been witholding information. From all of you. I know, it's shameful. But I had good reason. You see *sigh*, I have a problem with my juju.

Juju is what I refer to as luck. Traditionally it means magic, but I use it to mean luck. Neither actually exist, so there's really no difference.

I've been having a pretty long run where my juju has been out of whack. Or is whack. Has been whacked. There is definitely some form of whack going on. My own personal road to success/happiness/fulfillment has resembled the Dan Ryan reconstruction project in Chicago. Potholes are everywhere, I couldn't get off where I wanted to, and in order to make any kind of forward progress I had to take the long detour route down Ashland. It seemed everytime I was finally moving, BAM, I'd slam into one of those flashing divider things. At this point I'm a little scared of my own juju, and I don't like to anger it because it is clearly out of my control. I find nothing fuels my juju's anger like being prematurely excited about something good on the horizon.

So what I am about to share with you I do so with trepidation: I had a job interview last Wednesday for a great job. THE job. The best job I could possibly ask for at my level. It went so well. Even my hair looked good. They loved me. I met with the president of the company, and he loved me. I got a call today asking me to come back to meet with one more guy on Friday. Basically, they like me a ton, and just want to run me past one last dood. It's not a sure thing until I have an offer, but this is really good news, and I wanted to share. But I'm not going to share more details than that. I may be asserting a little independence from my juju here, but there's no reason to reach out and slap it right in the face.

So I ask my juju to cool out, stop being so angry, and not get in the way this time. Good juju, good. Nobody wants to be bad.

Don't believe the hype

I had a great weekend. My mother, who I will refer to as "Ma" to protect her anonymity and stress her Italian-ness, came to visit me. As is typical of New York, we had good meals, bad service, saw a musical and did a bunch of shopping. But we went budget shopping. Ma did great at Century 21, the downtown discount clothing store (Think the clothes of Filene's Basement, Saks Off Fifth and whatever fell off the Prada truck with the crazed attitude of a bridal gown sample sale). It's kinda insane, but you can definitely trade your cash (and sanity) for really good stuff. Case in point, my Ma's furry Michael Korrs boots. They are so cool. They will be perfect snow bunny boots on our annual ski trip this year. I liked a pair of tall Born boots, but since I have a normal size 7.5 foot they didn't come in the color I wanted. Curses.

The day after Century 21 we decided to check out the Barney's Warehouse Sale, heralded as THE place to pick up cheap designer stuff. The prices were good compared to the original prices, but the stuff was all old. And torn. And stained. I couldn't believe the herds of women winding through the racks for 4-year old off-season stuff that looked like it belonged at the Salvation Army, but somehow still cost over $150. We didn't get it. Although we just don't care about labels. If my shirt looks good I don't care if it says H&M or Dolce and Gabbana on the label. So needless to say, we struck out there, and won't ever go back. But we did walk out saying, "It was a New York experience."

We also made time for a Broadway show, Sweeney Todd, a musical about the demon barber of Fleet Street in London. As you can imagine, it wasn't a happy story, but very well executed. The leads were great, and the cast served as the orchestra, playing all the instruments on stage. Its run is over in 2 weeks so we are glad to have caught it in the nick of time. I may be careful who I book my next haircut with...

There's a new address for fun

And that address is...

Yeah right, like I'm going to post my new home address on the web so all you psychos can come hunt me down while I sleep.

But the news is real, I do indeed have a place to live on September first. It is the apartment described in the previous post. Greg and I met the landlord and signed the lease yesterday. We feel really good about it and are excited to explore our new hood, and have a home again so we don't have to be transient ner-do-wells anymore. I'll send out an e-mail with the address soon.

On a completely different topic; I realized yesterday that I should never leave the house in this city without my camera. I turn the corner in Union Square at 11am yesterday and see this thing...
My camera phone wasn't going to do it justice. As you can see, this thing is huge. And mind you, the rat was on a busy corner in Manhattan, not hanging out in a field somewhere in Ohio with his good friend Big Sky Bob. And it's really kinda creepy. It has red eyes and what looked like blood on its mouth and teeth. I can only assume it's some giant inflatable man-eating rabid rat. There were a few news crews and people around, but no obvious reason for the presence of the rat in pleasant Union Square. Nobody was passing out any flyers or shouting anything like, "PUT YOUR GARBAGE IN CANS! STOP GIANT RATS!" or "SEE, ANIMAL TESTING DOES SUCK." So I didn't really get the statement.

Let's not get too excited here

I think we've finally found an apartment. After seeing a ton of overpriced crappy ones and getting to a point where we were very frustrated about the lack of inventory with the brokers, we stumbled across a gem. It is in a neighborhood of Brooklyn called Boerum Hill, which is located between Brooklyn Heights (where we started our search) and Park Slope (which is where our search was headed and where my friends live). It is very convenient to all of the subway lines, has a new 24-hour laundromat across the street, as well as close to two major resaurant and shopping rows. So there's lots to do, lots of ways to get around, and it's even close to a Target!

The apartment is recently renovateted, not just internally but the structure of the building. So all the floors and stairs are actually level. The kitchen is nice, and the bathroom is a decent size for New York. The bedroom is absolutely gigantic, which I don't really understand, but we'll use it as an office too. The kitchen is open to the living room which is long and narrow. There is a small alcove that we might use as a makeshift guest bedroom, with a screen to seperate from the living space. We'll see how that works out.

My big sacrifice is that it's on a busy street. I'm not crazy about that. The windows are double paned and keep out the noise, but I definitely like walking out my door into a neighborhood. But in this rental market, beggers can't be choosers. It's on the 3rd floor of a four-floor apartment building, and the store underneath is retail so at least we won't have any restaurant smells or noises.

We've got our application in, and should be meeting with the landlord tomorrow. It's an exclusive listing with the broker so we aren't going to get beat out by anyone else. If the landlord likes our credit and us, we win! Finally!

UPDATE: The landlord loves our application and doesn't even feel the need to meet up first. The place is ours! Now all that's left is signing the lease! YIPPIE!

RUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNN!!!!

I saw one of these this morning on my way into work. Where? Where else? In the subway. There's just something creepy about it. They are the same color as the ground and the tracks down there, so you just see something moving out of the corner of your eye. Then when you turn to look... icky rat. This particular rat wasn't as large as the grandious stories of New York rats, but it wasn't small. It would definitely not be confused with a Chicago rat. Chicago keeps them small by putting garbage in alleys in - get this - various garbage cans and receptacles. Isn't anyone here seeing the solution to this problem? Get the garbage up off the streets where rats can get to it. Less food = less rats.

Or at the least, smaller malnourished rats.

Shhh... I'm hunting apartments

Many of you have not had the displeasure of searching for an apartment in New York. It's not so easy. Back in Sweet Home Chicago the biggest problem you had was finding the time to look. Once you ran across the right place, it was yours (assuming they didn't figure out you robbed a bank, stole Grandma's identity and have no SSN). Not so in NY. Greg and I have missed out on two key apartments so far... the first we were third in line but in the name of fairness the landlord gave it to the first people who saw it, and the second we were first in line, but the landlord didn't care, and went with someone who wanted to sign a long lease (without asking us if we would do so). Okay, we can get over it. Well, we can pretend to get over it.

So problem number one is that you never get the meet the landlords to charm them with your personality so they don't make completely arbitrary decisions. Another huge problem with the system is that it's not even close to affordable. To start with, we are looking at 1 bedroom apartments in Brooklyn (read: not Manhattan) in a price range of $1800 to $2500 per month. This is considered affordable. In general, it's also very difficult to find an apartment without a broker. This person charges you 12% of your annual rent ($2500 to $4000) for the pleasure of having you call them based on a free ad they put up on Craigslist and meeting you at the apartment to show it, where they insist upon telling you why they are worth the fee and then get pissed if you don't like the crappy place they showed you. They then remind you how low the inventory is now and that, basically, you had best take this place lest you be sleeping on the subway.

The other day one of the brokers we are working with calls about a great 1 bedroom with a den. I think this woman is pretty stupid, but she actually calls me, so I like her more than all the others. She says she has this fantastic apartment, tells me how underpriced it is and that last time an apartment came up in this building they had people waiting outside the door before they even had the keys to see it. But she tells me not to come down yet because they don't have the keys and doesn't want that to happen again. In the 5 minutes we are on the phone she suddenly says. "someone just came in to see it, so I'll call you when I get something else." Okay, we lost an apartment we didn't even get to see because someone came down there and sat in the office until the keys arrived. Huh?

Last night we saw another 1 bedroom plus den with a different broker. This one was a great space, was in an acceptable location, but was on the third floor and didn't have laundry in the building or nearby and could have been more updated, but we figured as a designer I could work with it. After we have filled out most of the paperwork to put our names in for it, the broker tells us the owner wants two-months security. So, to do the math... $2100 for first month + $4200 for security + $2520 broker fee (she was willing to come down from 12%) = $8820 to get this apartment, all to be paid by lease signing. Um, that's insane! Today I saw the same apartment listed for $2200 through another broker. Someone really needs to tell the landlady that she's going in the wrong direction on price, especially if she requires two-months security. We passed. It was just too much for a compromise apartment.

So we trudge on. The Stupid Broker has another apartment or two for me to see this week and promises to call as soon as she has the keys. Let's just hope nobody shows up before I can walk the 15 minutes to get there.

What's that smell?

Okay, everyone knows that New York doesn't have alleys and so they have to put the garbage right on the street; causing enormous rats, blocked paths, and the worst smell on the planet, especially in these very hot days of summer. But this is not the smell I am referring to because this is nothing new. I am referring to the smell of New York water.

We have a small bathroom in our sublet, which smells distinctly different than the rest of the apartment all the time (and not because of bathroom activities, you dirty jerks). Upon closer examination, all the towels smell this way. When I used to visit Greg I noticed his towels would smell, but I thought he was just a man with no time to wash his towels. It turns out that it is the actual water they are washed in that smells this way. I can't really describe the smell, other than that it is most decidedly "not fresh."

So I did a little research. Apparently New York is well known for having some of the best tap water in the world (as is Chicago, but Chicago's water doesn't smell). Some people think it's the lead pipes in old buildings that make the water smell and taste badly, which wouldn't make sense in this case as Greg's old building was only a few years old. So I'm not sure what is causing this smelly water, and why it seems to stick to our towels. I have to say, I'm quite worried that after washing my clothes in this water in the time that I'm here will also make them smell. That would be so sad, I do love my valuable t-shirts.

Until I figure it out I'll be using extra detergent and keeping Febreze in the bathroom.

Day one in the sublet...

So my first weird thing happened in NY today. I'm in the sublet apartment working when someone buzzes at the door. I open it up to find a little old lady (our building has many roaming the halls). She waddles up into the small foyer in the apartment and asks me for change for $20 because she has someone working in her apartment. This is initailly strange to me because I've always lived in brownstones in Chicago and not buildings so I've never had more than a few "neighbors" let alone ones that come around knocking. Also, in Chicago we tend to keep our old people in the old people housing. So you'll see them on the street, but not in your building.

I open my wallet and show the lady that I only have two fives and a one. So indeed, I do not have change for a 20. She just stands there looking at my wallet like she doesn't know what to do. Mind you, she is sorta in the apartmet. I say sorry and she says, "Weeelllll, I can't take your money, you need it." To which I reply, "Yeah, I do." I come from a long line of Italian guilt, so little old lady guilt doesn't get anywhere with me. She looked up at me one last time before putting her head down and slowly closing the door as she shuffled out. I think she really expected me to just give her money.

Am I crazy? This is weird right? Should I be handing out money to ladies who knock at my door? I mean, I was raised with the midwestern values, but I don't remember my parents telling me you have to give your money to little old ladies who knock at your door.

More to come I'm sure. It is New York City after all.