It's a boy of tape, but still, very white. In Union Square, 6:30 pm last night. I figure it's art. I should scour YouTube to see if a tape pops up with me on it stopping to take the picture. I would be a likely target as I was carrying a big bag of boxes home from the office for my move. Had to turn around and find a place to put them down to take the picture. Oh Zeus, please don't let me be on YouTube!!!
I've also added some photos to my Out and About in NY album from the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. I was pleasantly surprised at how well many of them turned out with just my little point and shoot camera and a little photoshopping. You might like them too.
People hate public displays of affection. People in couples hate them, and people who are single hate them even more. But every once in a while what starts off as a gratuitous PDA can end in a really satisfying story. This is one of those stories.In the previous post I mentioned that Jenna and I spent our Saturday afternoon hanging out in the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. As we were strolling the grounds we came upon this couple making out on a large lawn. There was nobody else on it but them so they didn't blend in, at all. Not just because they were the only people in a field of green, but because they were really enjoying themselves. They either didn't notice or didn't care that other people were watching them. Adults, children, an overly-tattooed couple. They certainly didn't/couldn't see the security guard on the other side of the lawn. But all the vertical people did.
From far away in his dark grey uniform the security guard slowly descended upon the distracted couple. Many passers by in the area stopped to watch what was sure to be a great moment of embarrassment. Almost on top of them, he finally spoke up and told them to move it along. Excessive macking is not allowed in the sanctuary of the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. Feeling like teenagers busted for making out in a parking lot, the couple got up and walked off briskly, laughing of embarrassment and looking only at each other.
Jenna almost clapped, I would have died laughing if she did.
Tonight I went to see a studio apartment in Park Slope. It wasn't the apartment for me mostly because the hallway was so narrow I couldn't get my couches upstairs. But also because even if I could I wouldn't have had the room to put them anywhere once they were in. But this isn't the point on the story...When I arrived at the open house everyone else there was a couple. Tons of them. And all of them were scrambling to get their application in. I just couldn't imagine two people living in that apartment. For just another hundred dollars a month each they could have an apartment like I have now which is very comfortable for two. I just didn't get it.A little while later I was waiting for the subway when one of the couples that was at the open house walked past. When we got on the train they were sitting not too far from me. I overheard the girl saying to the guy, "We are totally going to have our own lives. I mean, we can't be around each other all the time. Like lately, I feel like you've been smothering me." She said it so nonchalantly, like "Should we have bagels for breakfast? You're smothering me. How about french toast?" Ummmm, as a person who has lived with people, a few points. 1) If you live in a studio with another human, you will be around them, ALL the time. Unless of course one of you is nocturnal. 2) If you already feel smothered, moving in together might not be the best approach to work on that particular problem. 3) Perhaps after filling out an application for an apartment is not the best time to have the "you're smothering me" conversation on the subway. What a lucky guy he is.For my own part I applied for an apartment last week that I really like. I hope to know tomorrow if I got it. Chances are very good, but anything could happen. Be with me now juju!Week four-ish tanning report: The lotion for fair skin didn't do too much for me. I was just about to pick up a spray on tan when Megan said every article she's read about the lotion tanners says that you have to go at least a shade darker to get any results. So I stepped it up to the medium tone... we'll see how it goes. I also had a really nice day with Jenna at the botanical gardens over the weekend where we soaked in the sunshine. Don't worry! I was wearing sunblock, but some of those rays always sneak on by to aid in the tanning. If I keep with the lotion and the sunshine my skin might not blind my mother on her wedding day!
Craigslist is maybe the best site for social experimentation... ever.
UPDATE: Sorry folks, this link doesn't work anymore... but trust me, it was funny as hell.
Seen in Prospect Heights on a traffic light box. That's one special stuffed monkey.
Oh yeah, there are some new pictures in my Out and About in NY album. Stuff I took while walking over the Brooklyn Bridge and from a rooftop in Park Slope. I like 'em.
You may remember my rant about wellies a few months back. Well I still hate them, but I had to buy a pair. I just had to. The rain that comes down on this city is ridiculous. But the worst part is that with the old, uneven streets there are puddles of undetermined depth everywhere you turn. After the nor'easter of two weekends ago (my very first), I knew I had to make a sacrifice. It was either look silly or ruin my Joe's Jeans. I couldn't let my Joe's suffer on account of my pride. So I bought a pair of plain-Jane tan wellies last week.
I realized I would have to wear them today when I was awoken by thunder and rain this morning. They were still in the bag, tags on, in the closet. I was secretly hoping I would be able to return them. Not the case. So I geared up for the weather and headed out.
I will admit, it was nice to walk through anything and not worry about showing up at work soaked to the knees. I didn't have to go around puddles, I could go right through them. Two points for wellies... but that's all they get. I still have like, a million points.
On another subject....
Week three tanning report: I'm still "more tan" without actually looking tan. The color seems to have leveled off. Might have to consider a different lotion or a spray on tan. Going to the medium to dark skin option will probably leave me the wrong color. That's definitely not an a good thing.
Meanwhile, as my skin darkens, my teeth whiten. Well they seem whiter. I can't really tell if they are whiter because of expect them to be or because they actually are. So I guess the results aren't that great after a week of use. We'll see at the end of two weeks if they reach actual whiteness. I suppose I could stop drinking coffee to help the process, but then I would fall asleep at work and be unable to amuse you with my tales.
Oh, I'm so excited! Yesterday Jenna came with me to see a prospective new apartment, but before we ventured out to see it she handed me my very own NYC Condom! Whoo hoo!!She works at a school on Manhattan as a social worker and one of the students' parents gave her a whole bunch for the kids should they ask for them (progressive parent, clearly). I asked her to bring me one... and she did!
I love my NYC Condom. I think it's fabulous that the city branded condoms and released them on Valentine's Day. Just awesome. Now I have my own little piece of NY history. Thanks Jenna!!
There are no accurate words to describe the experience I had last night, but I'll give it a try.It's a lovely Sunday afternoon when Jerry calls to invite me over that night for dinner and a movie with Jenna and a friend of his from work who we'll call Aaron (Aaron doesn't have a fancy blog pseudonym so he's actually Aaron). I'm told it is a horror movie made by a friend of Jerry's who is trying to break into the business. What the hell, how bad could it be?It could be bad, really really bad. Atrocious even.
The premise of the movie is unimportant. But for context; it was supposed to be some kind of Blair Witch style thriller where you are watching footage of this cult take over a town in Arizona. The poor editing between "shaky camcorder" and "security camera" footage alone was enough to almost make Jenna lose her dinner. She was worried the movie would be to scary for her to watch and it turned out the scariest part for her was the camera-induced nausea.
The rest of us were feeling nauseous too, but not from the camera movement.
The plot was boring and barely existent, and basically was just a ruse to get him (the main character; played by the writer/director/friend of Jerry's) into this insane asylum to vent all his inadequacies and injustices from his childhood... which were also boring and standard. The ONLY rewarding moment was towards the end of the film some dude was helping him escape the insane asylum when he was shot with a tranquilizer dart. He makes it to the van when the guy tosses him a bottle of OJ and says, "Drink it. It's the antidote for the tranquilizer. Orange juice. The vitamin C counteracts the effects." This is when I lost it with laughter. Immediately following me Jenna lost it when they almost simultaneously ran over some orderly which utilized perhaps the worst scarecrow-looking fake-person doll ever. Between the two of us we couldn't stop laughing for at least 10 minutes. We had had it, the movie had broken us, and the first chance we had to laugh, we took it. The boys didn't seem as amused, which really confused us. I think they were broken long before and by this point in the movie they were beyond salvation.
One thing I couldn't understand (other than why George Wendt agreed to appear in this thing for five minutes) was why Aaron showed up for this misery. Apparently Jerry had shared with him a portion of a previous film, and for some reason he came back for more. Maybe he really likes Jerry's cooking. Maybe he likes to ridicule poor film making. Maybe he wanted to see if he could make it in and out of Brooklyn alive. Whatever it was, I think he learned his lesson. We all did that night.
Jerry owes me 90 minutes of my life back.
Week two tanning report: I look a little more tan, still not to be confused with actually tan, but with the cold weather and the long sleeves nobody would know it anyway. The firming portion seems to be working okay too. I could still use a hit of actual sunshine and a dash of lipo, but this lotion and running like a crazy person will have to suffice.
I've added two new albums over there to the right. One is My Peeps, which is just like it says, pictures of my peeps. Most of these photos show up in other albums, but it's kinda nice just to have them all there. If you aren't up there it's not that I don't love you, I just may not have a good pic... which brings us to the second album... New York Visitors. The first group to be posted are of Leah when she was here last weekend. Take particular note that I captured her on film in Macy's. And, oh yeah, what's that she's holding? Well, well, well, it's a Bloomingdale's bag! As two of Nordstrom's biggest competitors it's amazing she stepped foot into both of these stores. But I was there to get it on film. Wanna be famous? Really sad you aren't in My Peeps album? Come to New York, be cute, get posted, and instantly tens of people will be looking at you!
First off, I would like to point out that Stellar Vampires are not vampires that excel at all things vampiric. They are actually stars that form by taking material from other stars. And also happen to be an excellent name for a rock band.
But my real reason for linking to this story (which is likely old news to all of you wacky astronomy lovers out there), is to point out the technology that was used to find these blood-sucking stars. I don't want to confuse you with all the technical-scientific jargon, but the name of the telescope is the Very Large Telescope. The website says it "is the world's largest and most advanced optical telescope." For such a fancy-pants telescope it doesn't have much of a name.
Since the dawn of time scientists have named things with dull technical codes or words nobody can pronounce, single-handedly creating the need for acronyms. The craze just grew from there to expand to business terms (EOD), computer lingo (ASCII) and eventually text messaging (WTF).
At least the Very Large Telescope has 4 smaller Unit Telescopes (which are just large) with meaningful names thought up by a kid in Chile from a town I can't pronounce. So thats nice.
...while shopping for dresses with your mother (who is supposed to love you and tell you that you are beautiful no matter what) she takes one look at your legs and exclaims, "you have to get a tan!" That's right, my mother strongly suggested that I go to a tanning booth and toast myself before her wedding. It really wasn't a suggestion. It was more of a request. Possibly a demand. Had I said, "you should love me whatever color I am," I believe she would have bought me some sessions to try and persuade me with free stuff. Now, I know I am a white girl. Really white. My mother, who is Italian, has dark olive skin. My sister inherited this trait. They both tan incredibly easily without burning and keep their color well past summer. I, however, did not inherit this trait. My skin looks pretty white year-round, and if I go out in the sun without at least SPF 45 I'm in big trouble. My mom took the risk that one of her children wouldn't have dark skin when she chose to make kids with my dad who was half Polish. I guess she thought the half-Italian part would win out. It didn't.
Since I believe that paying to apply cancer and wrinkles to my skin is maybe the worst idea since smoking, there's absolutely no way I'm going to a tanning salon. I'm also pretty sure that using a self-tanner will leave me orange, streaky, or orange and streaky, so that's probably not the best route either. I need non-drastic change that is goof-proof, as I am a big goof. So last week I started using a new gradual self-tanning lotion from St. Ives that is also meant to be firming as an added little bonus.
Week one tanning report: After the first few days I thought my skin was just more pink, but now that it's been about a week I'm definitely a little darker in the tan-colored direction. But I don't think anyone would mistake me for actually having a tan. May take a while for that.
Now the dogs are taking our jobs. As seen in Union Square around lunchtime on Monday. It won't be long until we are the ones being walked around on leashes.At least he's checking his mirrors before pulling into traffic. That's more than I can say for most New York drivers.
This afternoon Megan and I were sitting on a bench in Union Square enjoying the sunshine on a little break from work. As we were chatting I heard two people talking very loudly to my side. I looked over and saw two women, each with headphones on, yelling to each other like they had just been standing next to a speaker at a concert. They talked like that for a few minutes before parting ways. We had a good chuckle that neither of them could be bothered to take off the headphones to talk with a friend they ran into on the street.
There is an empty jail down the street from my apartment. It's been closed since 2003 but lately there have been rumblings of what to do with it. Convert it to condos? Convert it to a hotel? Re-open? Re-open and expand? Re-open and expand AND throw in some retail!!!!??????
That seems to be the latest plan.
None of this will really affect me much. The jail is four long blocks to the West from where I currently live, and I've started looking to move a few blocks to the East anyway. I'm going closer to where the criminals run free in their natural habitat, instead of caged up and on display. But the folks who've bought a fancy condo next door and in the burgeoning neighborhood are going to be pretty pissed, no matter how many coffee shops and swanky boutiques go in on the first floor.
At least when the inmates are released they'll be able to grab a $5 latte and on the way back into society.
Today for my dear blog readers, a game of trivia. Name that Fridge!
Where is this fridge located?- A frat house
- My office
- A Lincoln Park apartment
If you guessed "A frat house" you would be wrong. Frat houses have much more beer and much less Coke. If you guessed "A Lincoln Park apartment" you would be really close, but no cigar. It is, indeed, to be found in "My office." This is what I saw this morning as I opened the door to get some milk for my coffee. I finally found it, one carton, all the way in the back. You can see it with its little red cap sticking up. A dull beacon of health lost in a sea of bad carbs and alcohol. Typical Friday morning at the office.
Meet Kristen. "Blog, Kristen." "Kristen, Blog."
Kristen and I have been friends for a long time. We met when we were "young and stupid." To be exact, she was just out of college, and I was halfway through. We have a lot in common and a lot not in common. Luckily they line up in the right ways so we compliment each other very well.
In case you're having trouble telling us apart; she's tall and straight and blond, and I'm short and curvy and brunette. She can run much much faster than I can, but I can duck under things, so both of us have valid escape options from creepy guys.
The picture above was taken this past weekend, when I was back in Chicago. The purpose for my trip was to shop with my mom for her wedding dress/shoes/accessories/etc. We found them all, she's going to look amazing, but I can't leak the details to ensure Homer stays in the dark about it all until that day. I did a have a wonderful time with my mom, as we always do, but this story is about my time with Kristen.
We went out on Saturday night to one of my favorite restaurants that she was dying to try, Coast Sushi. It was awesome, as always. A bottle of wine and three maki rolls later we blew that joint and headed to another of my favorites, and one of hers too, Hot Chocolate. The desserts there are amazing, even more so are the chocolate martinis. So amazing we each had two. Are you keeping track? That's a half bottle of wine and two martinis each.
Yeah, we had fun. We made up t-shirt ideas. You know you are wasted when you're making up t-shirt slogans.
Now Kristen and I always have fun when we get together, we've just usually only had the time to see each other over iced tea at lunch. Over the years she's done her thing and I've done mine as we tried to figure out who we are and where we're going in life. There have been times when we haven't seen each other for a year, but we made sure to check in occasionally. Whenever we did get together we always started off right where we ended the last time. No weirdness, no hurt feelings, no "where the hell have you been you big jerk?"
Lately our friendship has been experiencing a bit of a renaissance, despite my move to New York. We've both been going through some pretty big life changes recently, and though no two situations are the same, the way we are feeling and the things we are learning about ourselves have been. Even though we still don't talk all the time, we've been able to support each other by feeling safe enough to say the things that may be hard to tell everyone else. It's actually quite a profound thing happening in a very quiet way between the two of us. (I just said that to use 'quite' and 'quiet' in the same sentence to see if I could confuse anyone. Not really. Well, a little bit.)
Sometimes I wish we had been having this kind of friendship consistently for the past 10 years, I'm sure she feels that way too. But then I remember that just because our relationship is different now doesn't mean it was bad before. It was just, different. It was who we were and what was important to us then. We weren't selfish, or too busy, or anything like that. There was never a day when I doubted that she was a great friend and would be there if I needed her. I hope she felt the same way. And I really don't feel like we wasted any valuable friendship time. Ten years is a long time, but its nothing compared to the time we have going forward.
One day Kristen and I will both be "older and wiser." Until then we're going to have a great time getting there... drinking chocolate martinis and ice tea all the way. A little heavier on the chocolate martinis. The world needs more inspired t-shirt slogans.
So I was supposed to be in Chicago this weekend; helping my mother shop for her wedding dress, hanging out with friends for St. Patrick's Day, and having brunch with two of my aunts. But I was in New York. This big ass storm hit the city for Friday, and only Friday. I was flying JetBlue, and because of their recent bad publicity they hastily went ahead and cancelled all the flights out of the airport. At first I was just cursing JetBlue specifically, but then JFK closed later that day so I had to remove some of the blame to split it with the airport itself. Even though I was pissed and disappointed that my flight was cancelled, JetBlue was good about changing my flight. They wouldn't rebook me on the first flight out Saturday morning because the storm was supposed to continue, so they re-booked for the exact same flights for next weekend. Of course when I woke up Saturday morning the snow had already begun to melt, the sun was shining and the flights did take off. But there was no way to know that was going to be the case.
It certainly was a big storm, but O'Hare wouldn't have closed. O'Hare knows how to handle the snow. The rest of Chicago does too. New York has some real problems with snow management. There are clearly not enough plows, salt, sand and people to get it off the streets and sidewalks in any way. Eventually they get the main streets plowed, but then the snow just builds up on the corners and you end up stepping in massive puddles of slush, ice and freezing water. And the subway steps are the worst. The entrances, even at the most crowded stations, have snow covered stairs. I'm just waiting to see someone absolutely bail, crash down the stairs and take 10 people with them because of this. It's really not safe.
When my friend Megan told me that I would need to get wellies for living in New York I wasn't so sure. Now I am. You have no idea what kind of puddle you are stepping in or how deep it will be, and the only way to be sure your feet will stay dry is with ugly solid rubber "boots" that go up to your knees.
Speaking of Megan, here she is, with me at some bar on the Upper East Side on St. Patrick's Day. Since I didn't make it to Chicago she invited me out with her boyfriend and some of his friends. I got a pretty late start on the festivities, but it was a good time. I always have a good time with Megan, she's swell.
The bagpipe players below were part of our entertainment at the bar. On my way there I was sitting near a guy on the subway wearing a kilt. He was an attractive, very normal looking guy... except that he was wearing a kilt. I was dying to ask him if his legs were cold, but I didn't. I figured he already knows everyone is looking at him, he doesn't need me asking him about it. And I'm not a big fan of talking to strangers. My parents told me not to do that, and clearly it stuck.
Attention Chicago, you have a swell new store. It's in Wicker Park, and it's called The Boring Store. It sells various "spy gear" products and the proceeds go to fund new programs for an after-school tutoring and writing program called 826CHI. The products all have creative and funny explanations on the outside of the boxes, meant to amuse adult visitors and inspire writing in the workshop behind the storefront. See, swell.
I'll be back in town next weekend to marathon shop for my mother's wedding dress, but hopefully I'll have a few minutes to pop by and check the place out.
Oh yeah, my mom is engaged. Sorry to gloss right over that really big news. I seem to have forgotten to write about it because I was banned from doing so until she was able to get the word out to everyone herself. It took a while, and then I forgot. Whoops.
So the story goes... before breakfast on the morning of Superbowl Sunday, a day that was painfully disappointing to the rest of Chicago, Homer poked Cathy on the shoulder and asked "Wanna get married?" She replied, "Sure." His next question was, "Do you want an engagement ring?" Ladies, we all know what her answer was.
Within two weeks they nailed down the date of May 27th (yes, this year), picked a ring and a photographer and off she went to Australia to pet kangaroos. While she was down under Homer booked a church, looked into a bunch of reception options and picked up her shiny new ring. This has nearly redeemed him for asking her to marry him without a ring in the first place. I haven't decided yet what will fully redeem him, but treating my mom like a queen for the rest of her life is a solid place to start.
Here's a picture of the happy couple on her birthday in November:
When I was of a younger dating age my mom used to have fun threatening my boyfriends with a shotgun. She didn't have one, but was convincing even without it. Homer, I don't have a shotgun, but I do know taekwondo. I'm just sayin'.
Nobody out there is going to argue that doughnuts are good for us. They absolutely shouldn't be eaten on a regular basis. But when I do occasionally want to treat myself to a sugary, fatty, doughy circle of goodness I certainly won't turn to a doughnut made with whole wheat. Krispy Kreme, what are you doing? The low-carb dieters are gone. You can't get them back. They don't want what you are selling. And any of them who are stupid enough to believe that your whole wheat doughnuts are healthy might also just be crazy enough to sue when they binge on the "healthy" doughnuts and end up with heart disease. "But Krispy Kreme marketing said they were healthy! It's not my fault I gained 50 pounds!" You've been warned.
It's a boy of tape, but still, very white. In Union Square, 6:30 pm last night. I figure it's art. I should scour YouTube to see if a tape pops up with me on it stopping to take the picture. I would be a likely target as I was carrying a big bag of boxes home from the office for my move. Had to turn around and find a place to put them down to take the picture. Oh Zeus, please don't let me be on YouTube!!!
