Downtown-Chic

Playing Hooky

2007-06-07T15:47:00.000-04:00

Yesterday a couple friends and I played hooky and hit Six Flags in New Jersey. We couldn’t have hoped for a better day, the weather was perfect and the park was near empty.

The guy who organized the trip made the unfortunate decision to invite a new girlfriend who doesn't like roller coasters. Always the gentleman, he was forced to sit out many of the fierce rides, as she was intimidated. (Side note: The organizer (aka F.W.P.) made a serious pass at me last Saturday night, after which I explained to him that hooking up would be an awful idea because, "Don't you think Wednesday would be slightly awkward?) Thankfully, my other guy friend was as much an adrenaline junky as I and we hit every roller coaster of note. Our favorites were:

El Toro: This wooden roller coaster (pictured here) was the best ride of the day. El Toro begins with a jaw-dropping, stomach lurching drop -- at 76 degrees it is the steepest drop of any wooden roller coaster in the world. The entire ride is consistently great throughout. As my roller coaster buddy so eloquently said, "Unlike Superman, it doesn't blow it's load early."

Kingda Ka: Sheer insanity -- pictured in the back here -- it is the tallest and fastest roller coaster in the world. I actually to ride it twice to get the full experience, as the first time I was so freaked out, I kept my eyes closed the entire time. It was sick, the ride starts with you going 0-128 mph in 3.5 seconds, where you then climb straight up to 456 feet and then drop right straight right back down. It was sick... It was exhilarating... It was fast... I loved it!

Nitro: A fellow at the park described Nitro to me as the "Cadillac of roller coasters." After locking myself into the seat with only a dinky yellow lap bar (seen here), I was beyond anxious. There was nowhere to put my hands, my feet... Moving at 80 mph with a dinky little yellow lap bar distracted me, but somewhere around the quarter mile mark of the 1 mile ride, I relaxed into it. After dropping 215 feet, and speeding through 6 steep drops, horizontal loops, an S-curve and a high-speed "hammer head," I wanted to do the ride again....

The saddest part of the trip was all these fat Americas who couldn't fit in the safety seats. People would wait in line for an hour, only to find out that they were too fat for the safety harness to lock. It was so embarrassing, they would get kicked off of the ride and be subjected to snickers from those waiting in line.... (Alright, full disclosure, I snickered.) I can think of no better motivation for a diet than the public humiliation of being kicked off a ride.

Diane von Furstenberg - Inspiration

2007-06-04T15:59:00.000-04:00

Last week, as Blondie and I walked by the new Diane von Furstenberg store in the Meatpacking, we realized she was hosting her store opening party. Not wanting to miss an opportunity for free champagne, we walked in as if we had been invited.

As I stood next to women who designed the wrap dress, I was momentarily horrified to realize I was wearing a cheap, imposter H&M wrap dress. At that moment, I came to the realization that I must use the career-high “earnings” and my birthday as an excuse to spend WAY too much money on a fabulous party dress.

So I spent Sunday afternoon shopping with Elle and Blondie for the perfect party dress. Instead of one - I ended up with 3 and a $700 charge on my credit card.

I have every intent of trying the dresses at home and making a final decision on which dress is most appropriate for my "I'm not 30 yet" birthday party... It will either be: a very bold Vivienne Tam mini, or very sexy black, shift dress mini from ABS.

Either way, I'm glad my friends will be paying for my cocktails this weekend.

Oh, yeah and I'm breaking my own rules. The Producer has been badgering me these past few months to meet for drinks. I have him tentatively slated for a pre-birthday dinner cocktail on Saturday. I consider this good timing. There is a certain start and end time, plus there is nothing quite like looking fabulous when you encounter your ex...

To Do -- Hike Breakneck Ridge

2007-05-29T19:36:00.000-04:00

Finding myself in NYC for the long weekend, I gathered a couple of my adventurous friends together for a one-day trip outside the city. After a bit of research, I decided upon hiking up Breakneck Ridge, which is easily accessible from Metro North.

Saturday morning I was up and about at 8AM. My newly purchased backpack was stocked with water, granola bars, apples, oranges and PB&J sandwiches for my friends (I prepared PB & Fluff for myself.)

The $20 round trip ride on Metro North was a breeze and offered stunning views of West Point Academy and the river. When we exited at the Breakneck Ridge stop (literally a single stop alongside the road, no parking lot, no platform) I had only a general idea of how to find the trail head. Since this was such a well-traveled path, I had relied on someone else leading the way. However, I soon found myself directing those who got off the train to the tunnel where the road (9D) cut through the mountain and our hike began.

The name of the trail is no joke. For the first 1200 feet, we scrambled over rocks at a 45 degree incline. It was the ultimate rock climbing experience (sans safety equipment), we would use our hands and feet to find small nooks and crannies where we could pull ourselves up and over the rock slide. We barley noticed our burning quadriceps as our hands became chaffed by the rough rocks.

At times the trail would provide alternate routes, which were slightly less difficult than the provided path. At one point, I took the difficult route while my fellow travelers went the alternate route. As I began scaling the rock, I realized too late that I was on a very small ledge and if I were to slip I would undoubtedly fall into the seemingly endless chasm. For a brief moment my fear of heights nearly took over making me dizzy and weak. But I quickly realized that I had no choice but to keep moving forward. After I hoisted myself over the boulder, I briefly became a pious person and thanked God for the clarity to make it through that moment.

As we scrambled our way up the mountain, we had the most magnificent view up and down the view. Every bit of the climb was breathtaking. If I had remembered batteries of my camera, I would have taken tens of tens of photos. (Note to self: Repeat this climb during fall foliage.)Oh and thanks to these guys for posting their hiking photos online. Unlike me they obviously remembered batteries for their camera.

After making it atop the rock slide, where most of the Manhattaites turned to head back down the hill toward Cold Springs, my hiking party carried on. We spent the next 4 hours hiking up the more traditional trails, in search for the fire tower which would provide us with views of the Manhattan skyline.

As we moved deeper into the woods, I realized that the hiking directions I had weren't the most accurate and began to regret not picking up an official hiking trail book. After a couple wrong turns and second guessing ourselves, we backtracked our way back to the "official" trail. After four hours of hiking we eventually made it to the fire tower and we enjoyed lunch, while not-so-secretly hoping we were loud enough to scare away the large cat whose paw prints surrounded the water hole close by.

We then hiked on and and out of the mountain. Seeing other hikers coming up the mountain was rewarding. The best part was when they'd ask where we were coming from. When we told them Breakneck, they were always astonished that we hiked so far. By the time we exited the woods, we were in Beacon. NY. Despite returning to Manhattan dirty and smelling like bug spray, I complete didn't care that I was wearing khaki shorts and sneakers in the city. We were a misfit group of hikers and I was proud of what we had accomplished in our day hike.

I has so much fun, I've actually purchased a book on day-hikes in the NY area and intend on purchasing a bonefied pair of hiking boots. Although, I highly doubt that anything can come close to those first 1200 feet of Breakneck...

Campaign to a new me....

2007-05-21T15:29:00.000-04:00

Eight years out of college and I'm extremely bored with the lack of mental stimulation in my life. While my job offers me ample opportunity to manage crisis -- it isn't rocket science. And to be completely honest, I spend much too much time, working, reading trashy weekly magazines, watching MTV, entertaining friends and drinking wine. I'm starting to feel like my brain is rotting.

So, this weekend I set out on a campaign to change all that.

After a spending three solo hours at the Museum of Modern Art, during which I listened to the audio tour, I began wandering home. In-the-midst of this wandering, I found myself myself leafing though a hard copy book titled, 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die.

I was quite surprised to learn that thanks to my liberal arts education, I've actually knocked a couple hundred of the books off the list.

Considering that I once toyed with the idea of drinking through the full list of bars in the Sheckys' guide, this book is my new challenge. And while securing a NYC library card would probably make this a more affordable venture, this weekend I picked up three books included on the list which I have not read:

~ The Other Boleyn Sister by Philippa Gregory
~ Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray (because watching the movie doesn’t count)
~ The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood

This is an ambitious undertaking, but I can think of no better reason to finally get around to reading The Lord of the Flies, which I've successful adverted throughout my formal education.

*************************************

Addendum: Actually, maybe I should get a library card. According to Gothamist, today a new library just opened in Soho....

Add to your NetFlix Cue....

2007-05-17T11:48:00.000-04:00

Doing my dutiful daughter duties, I called my mom on Mother’s Day. As we’re talking about the wedding of a family friend, my mom says “I really miss [your ex-boyfriend].” My response, "Yeah, me too."

(Background: This is my last serious ex. We were high school friends who reconnected at a mutual friend’s wedding. After dating for nearly two years, I thought this guy was “the” guy. I nearly moved out of Manhattan to quaint New England to give it a real chance. Then we broke up.)

In this frame of mind, when HBO began playing The Break Up I settled in to watch. The movie isn’t spectacular, but there is one particularly redeeming scene. Jennifer Aniston is in her room and Vince Vaughn walks in to apologize for standing her up earlier in the night. When he notices she’s crying he starts walking toward her. She starts crying harder, tells him to stop, and lets him know how much he had disappointed her. Then she tells him to leave her room, which he does and at that point their relationship is effectively over. (Yeah, it made me cry - after all I was in that frame of mind.)

Seriously, the whole scene made me realize that men and women speak completely different languages. In that scene, Vince should have walked over and hugged her. A big bear hug, not one of those wimpy, limp arms hugs. It was so obvious to me that if he had done this, their relationship wouldn't have ended, and they possibly could have had a civilied conversation about everything that was wrong with them... I'm sure his man-brain thought it was the right thing to do, but to the female mind, it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Guys needs to read between the lines sometimes.

Crocs

2007-05-16T10:37:00.000-04:00

I really don’t understand trends which stem from the mid-west. (Neither does Elle). In particular, I’m having an impossible time understanding people’s fascination with crocs.

Really? Plastic shoes?
Really? That color?
Really? It goes with “everything” in your closet?

When I first saw them on teenage boys in Albany, New York a couple years back, I figured it was an upstate thing. Then I started seeing them on small children. I justified it that these poor children were obviously at the whim of their parents. Then suddenly they were everywhere! Couples were wearing matching pairs. Old folks. Young folks. Teenagers. Babies. East Coast. West Coast. Ugh -- at Jazz Fest, there were nearly as popular at the soft shell crab po-boys.

This could be the worst thing to happen to footwear fashion since penny loafers. I hope the trend passes soon, although I just noticed they are selling in Bloomingdales AND there is rumor of a Crocs-only store opening in Manhattan.

The Horror!

Side Note: Yes, I’ve been neglecting my blog these past months, but it has been worth it. I’ve reached a level of career defining success which I hadn't really planned on. Here’s hoping the good-will in the office toward myself carries on through the summer, at the very least until my annual review.

Move over Ben & Jerry

2007-04-13T13:45:00.000-04:00

I am admittedly a wino... An open bottle of red, translates to an empty bottle of red. I could hardly contain my excitement when last night I learned of wine cellar sorbets -- an entire line of sorbet made with wine and champagne.

I kid not, the flavors are:

Red:
• Cabernet Sauvignon, 2005 Central California
• Zinfandel "Late Harvest" 2005 Central California
• Pinot Noir 2004 New York

White:
• Champagne N.V. California
• Riesling 2004 New York
• Sauterne N.V. New York

Blush:
• May Wine N.V. New York

Who needs the calories of Ben & Jerry, when you can get a buzz with calorie-conscious sorbets. Summer just can't come fast enough for me.

My morning routine

2007-04-10T17:59:00.000-04:00

I'm very particular about which subway car I board when headed to work. I always get on the second car, first door of the train. When I transfer, I walk upstairs and around the staircase board the middle door of the car that stops in front of me. This way I'm dropped off right in front of my exit.

I'm a creature of habit. Which isn't a bad thing, until someone infiltrates your routine.

When I was dating the Producer, I learned that he was a "last door on the first car of the same train" type of guy. So after we broke up, I knew to avoid the first car at all costs -- lest I have a morning encounter.

Over the last couple weeks, he's been popping up in my car. At first I was unnerved and annoyed. However, it happens so often now (once or twice a week) I hardly think anything of it. He has also taken to e-mailing me. Usually inane, stupid comments about what we discussed on the train -- and he ALWAYS initiates it first.

After our encounter this morning, he took it a step further.....

"What time do you want to meet at the subway tomorrow morning? Good luck at work. Don't work too hard. If things free up, <my movie> plays tomorrow at the <NY theater>. If not, let's grab a drink/coffee sometime..."

Why is this guy trying to weasel his way back into my life? Go away! An unavoidable subway encounter is excusable, because there are only so many subway stops on the LES and I am not walking to another stop just to avoid him. But to INTENTIONALLY hang out, that is too much. I am going to have to break it to him that I don't hang out with ex's.

Really, he should know better.

Finding Balance

2007-04-07T18:17:00.000-04:00

Achieving balance in New York is a near impossibility. We're always pulled in a million directions. Yet, today, I found balance. Three hours at the Fulton Street Bathhouse and everything stressful slipped away.

I've always avoided bathhouses, as their scandelous pasts were of little interest to me. However, when a couple strong cocktails on Friday night did little to relieve my anxiety and stress from the past month, a friend suggested I meet him at the bathhouse on Saturday morning.

This morning, a group of us spent 3 hours, sweating it out in the dry heat sauna where the "regulars" taunted us for sitting on the lower benches. When this heat became too much, we moved into the steam room, where it was completely acceptable to douse yourself in buckets of ice water when the heat overwhelmed. In a third room, we hid behind clouds of eucylptus-scented steam and wrapped it all up by plunging ourselves into a heart-stopping pool of ice cold water.

It was so un-New York, I felt like I spent the day in Minnesota, enjoying a scandinavian-sauna-and-rinse. Balance achieved.

There are no words

2007-04-07T01:30:00.000-04:00

To say I've been busy is an understatement. I feel like my life for the last three weeks has been run by an endless stream of work demands, emails and phone calls. I am not convinced that this isn't some type of god sent intervention to keep me from wasting money or something, but honestly, I haven't one interesting thing to say that isn't work related. Even if I try to separate myself, there is nothing but work babble. And that shit is boring.

Hence the blogging silence.

I can hardly look at my computer screen without thinking about the 3 other projects that I should be finishing. So this weekend, I am taking a good friends counsel and am headed to those NYC Russian (or is it) Turkish baths I've heard so much about.

I little separation and forced relaxation... Exactly what is need for re-inspiration.

Bahamavention

2007-03-21T19:54:00.000-04:00

(Sigh) By tomorrow, I'll already be here. My out of office assistant is on. My voice mail is changed. My car to the airport is booked.

Last night I started packing. I am so excited to wear my summer dresses again... Its been too long since I've had a beach vacation... This is exactly what I needed......

Girls with Boyfriends

2007-03-16T13:45:00.000-04:00

Following an office party last night, I took my inebriated coworkers to meet up with my drinking buddy and others. When we arrived the guys heralded my appearance and ability to wrangle girls to their otherwise male-only fest.

After Dane Cook and I have a disappointingly lame conversation, I quickly come to the realization that bringing inebriated girls into a room of guys is not a wise decision. In a matter of moments, my coworker, who incidentally has a boyfriend, is hitting on Dane Cook.

I’m thinking there should be some sort of rule here. Something like…. GO HOME TO YOUR GOD DAMN BOYFRIEND! As if the NY dating scene isn’t complicated enough, we have to deal with individuals in relationships acting like singles. That's pure selfishness!

Want to place a wager?

2007-03-13T11:27:00.000-04:00

I've never been much of a betting gal. When I visit Vegas, I spend my daylight hours by the pool and my evening hours at the club or sampling their fine cuisine. I've never sat down at a blackjack table or placed a roulette bet. I'm not a lucky person, so I prefer to spend my time and money in Sin City, being... well sinful.

This morning, I read with great interest a post by Tote Board Brad, in which he sets up the odds for which man in my life with be "the next". I've got to say, the man's done his homework. He knows the players and he's pretty much got me pegged.

I personally can't wait to see how this all unfolds... And I promise honest (anonymous) disclosure of whomever it happens to be.

MoJo Recovered

2007-03-12T13:09:00.000-04:00

After long await, I’m pleased to say that my dating mojo is back. To my friends who were lamenting its absence, claiming I was becoming a bit of a bore, I’m pleased to report, I’m back.

After a couple weeks of self-repair (ego stroking from low hanging fruit, developing gymrexia and mindless hookups) I finally have back my certain j’ne sais quoi. This weekend, I raised the dating bar to escape the low hanging fruit I’d been busying myself with, and found two completely suitable candidates.

Friday night, my roommate and I checked out Nurse Bettie’s. While we were there, I made eye contact with a tall man dressed in a dapper suit. After a couple flirting glances, Wall Street promptly came over and introduced himself. When his friends wanted to leave the bar, Wall Street asked to stay. We got along tremendously and after a couple cocktails we stepped outside for a cigarette. He used this moment away from the group to take my number and kiss me. Completely pleasant and quite funny, as his first words after the kiss were, “I don’t usually kiss beautiful girls outside bars.” So cheesy!

Saturday night, my young wingman invited me to a gallery event in Williamsburg. The promise of doing something other than “the ordinary” intrigued me, so Blondie and I headed over the bridge. There we meet a couple of his friends, including one who was drop dead look-a-like to Dane Cook. In true single girl fashion, I flirted with Dane Cook shamelessly. However, while my mojo is back, my skills are rusty, because when Dane Cook leaned over to kiss me I turned away. Quick to realize my mistake, I laughed off my faux-pas and asked him to try again.

My dating calendar is filling up. dinner with The Houseguest on Wednesday, followed by cocktails with Dane Cook on Thursday. And I’m sure I’ll be hearing from Wall Street, once the necessary 3 days from our meeting pass.

My newest desire: Visiting Cards

2007-03-06T12:30:00.000-05:00

Seriously, I am rethinking my habit of handing my business card to guys who ask for my number. Especially after this guy, emailed me. When I didn’t immediately respond, he called my office. After I explained to him that I was incredibly busy (3pm on Monday), he called my cell phone to apologize for bothering me at work.

In my mind, a business card is an invitation to call the individual’s cell phone number, not stalk them.

I think it is time to revive the art of visiting cards. Back in the days of “Gone With the Wind” when someone stopped by your house, they would leave a visiting card, with their name and number, as evidence of their visit.

For my business contacts, I have my business card.
For my personal contacts, I have my visiting card, with only my cell phone.

Aunt Downtown

2007-03-05T17:47:00.000-05:00

That's A-unt Downtown. Not Ant Downtown.

My poor sister will be nine months pregnant in Atlanta in August. Her due date is the 9th. I intend on being the coolest Aunt ever. Especially since now this relieves the pressure from my parents for me to settle down and start a family. Now, I can just point them in the direction of my sister.

Chocolate & Champagne

2007-03-02T17:16:00.000-05:00

At last night's fundraising event for this all-male production of As You Like It, (which conveniently enough took place in a Soho chocolate store). My wingman and I were on a date-to-find-dates.

The fundraiser was everything a good event should be. Crowded, but not too crowded. Diverse crowd. Great DJ. Interdispersed raffle (come on you always think you are going to win). Best of all there was no end in sight to the champagne and chocolates. The cycle was endless - champagne, chocolate truffle on a potato chip, champagne, chocolate cover tortilla chip with chili powers and asiago cheese, champagne, chocolate brittle...

The date-to-find-dates was semi-successful, I've been invited to a winery with an individual from the party. He isn't really my type and perhaps a little over-eager, but hey, a gal needs options.

My moment of regret from the evening should probably be drinking all of Blondie's wine at the Spotted Pig post-party, I'm actually more embarrassed by the evening ending phone conversation with The Houseguest. I really need to get that phone with the breath-a-lyzer on it. Cause calls like that should never happen.

Lesson learned: Chocolate and champagne are not a substitute for dinner.

The Houseguest -- Continues

2007-02-28T17:26:00.000-05:00

I just got a text from this guy, following his weekend of NYC interviews, he's been offered a fabulous NYC-architecture job and will be moving here in 2 weeks. He's already requested that I hang out with him when he's here next weekend to look at apartment and when he has his welcome to NYC party.

UGH! Prior to hooking up with him, as I sat on the couch weighing my options (Sunday night, 3-day weekend, nothing good on TV, etc...), I hadn't really considered that he would end up moving to NYC and I would see him on a regular basis. I really had this pegged as a one-night thing...

I guess there is no better welcome to NYC, than a quick tutorial about how we're all a bunch of non-commital, single people...

Break-up Rules

2007-02-26T19:29:00.000-05:00

There are few things more rewarding than when an ex tries to contact you and you give them the screen. For the last month, The Producer has tryed to reach me...

Attempt One: The Street Encounter
Attempt Two: The email - Received nearly a month after the talk, I was initially unsure if I wanted to respond. So I bought myself some time by firing off a faux-out of the office response. After contemplating his email for a weekend, I decided a response was unnecessary. Delete.
Attempt Three: Valentine’s Day text - So what time is the six-foot teddy bear arriving at my house.

While I’m not a gal who plays by “The Rules,” I have 3 hard and fast rules when it comes to relationships:

There is no such thing as breaking up and getting back together again. While I do love hearing about dramatic break-ups -- ringing doorbells at 4AM, fiery public displays of affection/annoyance/hatred, etc…) I consider this a vicious cycle which becomes a commonplace way of handling all problems in the relationship. Take the hint and walk away, saving time on Rule #2
To fully get over someone, it takes half the time of the relationship
Once that half-time has passed, you and the old-flame return to the state of your pre-relationship relationship. If you were friends, you stay friends. If you skipped the friend stage and went straight to relationship, then that person doesn’t exist to you.

Having the upper hand is absolutely refreshing.

I realize that since we have similar friends, one of these days we'll be in the same place, at the same time... When that happens, it happens.... But I am not going to be forcing it, or responding to any of his really lame contact attempts.

Are we in jr. high?

2007-02-22T12:36:00.000-05:00

Twice in the last week I've been pressured by my friends to renege on an offer I had made to another friend.

Case #1 Tickets to Spamalot

My girlfriends and I had purchased tickets months back for tonight’s performance. Last week, one of my friends had an unexpected work conflict arise. There was a slight scramble in the following days to find someone to take her ticket. Luckily, I found a co-worker willing to pay for her ticket. Crisis averted.

Or so I thought. Friday at happy hour, it comes up that her trip was cancelled and she can attend the performance. She straight up stated that she realizes her ticket has already been promised to someone else, but at that moment, another friend suggests I get the ticket back. Honestly, this whole conversation completely rubbed me the wrong way... So tacky! Naturally, I refused to request the ticket back from my coworker.

Case #2 Bahamas

Late last week after finding a phenomenally priced trip to the Bahamas, I began discussing the possibility of a trip with my friends. This weekend, there was a mixed bag of travelers, however by the time it laying down our credit cards, we were down to four gals and a guy who happens to be a former F.W.P. (Friend with Privileges).

There was definite pressure from the gals to shake off my guy friend, so it would be all girls. I personally believe that having a wingman on the trip would make for more fun. Plus, he was the 2nd most committed person to this trip, there was no way I could renege on my travel offer. Can you imagine if I lied to my friend and went behind his back? Considering we hang out nearly every weekend, he certainly would have noticed that I was exceptionally tan in the middle of March.

A Moment of Reflection

2007-02-14T10:09:00.000-05:00

On this day the 14th of February, I woke up laughing thinking back to 2006 and the accidental Valentine's Day date I set up for myself. The date who incidentally never made it pass the third date, for so many reasons.

I've gone on so many bad dates, I am beginning to understand my friends who believe in quality vs. quantity. Let's see:

- There was the drummer who I was nervous about going out with, so I quelled my nerves with a pre-date bottle of champagne with my roommates. This was followed by a drink at the bar + a bottle of wine at dinner = Me making a complete ass of myself

- There was the date who suggested we meet an a neighborhood bar. Then after purchasing me a vodka tonic told me that he was Muslim and believed that alcohol was the root of all evil...

- There was the younger guy who turns out "knew" my much, much younger cousin from college...

- There's the Canadian Mountie, a date on which my cabbie had to step in so he'd let me out of the cab...

- Bad dates go as far back as high-school, where her guy I was dating opted to take my sister to his prom over me. (Okay, I was a freshman and they had the same group of friends, but STILL, there should be a rule against that or something.)

Who am I kidding, I love a good - bad date story. I think I need to start meeting more of the "wrong" men. It is a good thing this city is full of them...

Tax Season

2007-02-09T11:49:00.000-05:00

Every year, I use Turbo Tax to process my tax return. It is easy, quick and with electronic returns and direct deposit, I have a couple thousand dollars in my bank account in a matter of days.

However, this year my industry friends are buzzing about a particular tax guy who specializes in returns for the PR/Marketing gal. Apparently, he has perfected the “formula” which takes into consideration every possible deduction and he doubles most everyone’s tax return. This guy has the stamp of approval from the heads of top NY marketing agencies and his calendar is booked nearly through tax season.

A friend just offered me her appointment.

I’m tempted. I can almost feel the $4K in my pocket. Then my delirious happiness, is interrupted by a nagging fear of the IRS. What if I get audited? Is this guy legitimate? I haven’t kept a receipt in years…

If I were a bolder individual, I would accept the appointment and take the $4K without question. However, considering that the IRS has something like six years to audit you, I just might play it safe.
Although that $4K would be magnificent...

Window of Opportunity

2007-02-07T15:59:00.000-05:00

At lunch my fortune cookie read, "A window of opportunity doesn't open itself."

Four hours later someone offered me a ticket to tonight's Justin Timberlake show at MSG.

Hello opportunity! Hello Mr. Timberlake!

The "m" word

2007-02-04T00:20:00.000-05:00

In a relationship, I never, ever, ever mention marriage. Ever. And for good reason, this isn't something I dwell upon. My parents weren't married until 32, so I figure I have four years to get my act in gear.

However, when I consider my doomed relationships (those which I invested myself in vs. those that were mere "bumper" boyfriends), I'm staring to think that the lack of this word is detrimental to me.

Perhaps in the future, I should stop being the non-commitment gal.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about bringing it up within the first couple months of hanging out. But at some point, when marriage comes up in conversation, I should admit that 'yes, I would like to get married someday.'

I don't think I've ever voiced these words to the men in my life. Not that this is going to cure my dating ills, but at least I'll put upfront where I eventually see myself. Then he'll either get out early, or he'll move ahead fully aware.

I guess I had figured I never needed to say those words, because I had naively believed that everyone wants to get married some day. I'm learning that I'm wrong, people are becoming increasingly happy without the institution. The least I can do is be honest about what I'm looking for.

Life on the road

2007-02-02T20:46:00.000-05:00

So, I'm in Washington DC for a conference. Earlier today I was in the business center sending proprietary information to my team back in NYC. As I'm at the public terminal, I'm aware of everything going on around me. After all these medical meetings are filled with my competition. Everyone is eavesdropping, reading over your shoulders, looking for a marketing scoop.

Discretion unnecessary. As I catch a glimpse of the man's terminal next to me, he is trolling 'Craig's list' looking for 'massages'. As he conducted his research, he showed no regard for those standing around waiting for the terminal to open. Post after post, he opened the ads of men offering 'massages' many of them containing nude photos.

By now I'm wondering if this man leads a second life on business trips. Does he was a wife at home? kids? a boyfriend? a girlfriend? Does he use these on the road opportunities to explore a saucier side of his personality.

Needless to say, at a convention of thousands, I encountered this man multiple times on the floor. I only hope when I see him tomorrow he is smiling.

Life Outside New York

2007-01-29T19:14:00.000-05:00

Yes, I do leave New York. Once the snow starts falling and the temperature drops, I get the itch. If all works out, over the next few months, I’ll be jet setting to two incredibly fantastic music festivals:

First up South by Southwest
Last night a good friend mentioned that his band just booked a number of shows at the Austin, TX music/film festival. Since I haven’t managed to catch one of his shows in either Hoboken or Williamsburg, I figure booking a plane ticket is the best way to make sure I actually attend the show. The inspiration for this trip hit last night, so I still need to have a travel buddy for the trip. My guy friend will be busy - you know - being a rockstar and doesn't need to entertain me the whole time. However, I am determined.

Next Jazz Fest
After college, my girlfriends and I religiously attended Jazz Fest. Then they started getting married and the annual pilgrimage stopped. This year, with all the wedding festivities behind us, the trip is back on...

The New Orleans Jazz Fest is unlike any outdoor music festival. If you haven't been it is hard to explain. Yeah, the musical line-ups of Bonnaroo or Coachella are seemingly more my speed... But Jazz Fest is no ordinary music festival. The people, the music, the ambiance, the food, its (dare I say) a nearly religious experience. You can't explain it, but everyone on the fairgrounds knows it. When you are there you are part of something big. It is not uncommon to hear people talk of it being their 10th or 15th Jazz Fest.

Note to my college girls -- I've put it on the dossier.

My First Music

2007-01-24T19:09:00.000-05:00

Simple question, "What was your first music purchase ever?" Such embarrassment.

First '45': "We Are The World"

First record: Tiffany

First Tape: "The Go-Gos"

First CDs: Beastie Boys 'License to Ill"

First Music Video: Billy Idol's 'Rock the Cradle of Love'

Pedigrees, they aren’t just for canines

2007-01-22T18:39:00.000-05:00

Single women weigh a potential dates' pedigree nearly as heavily as physical-attractiveness. I can hardly have a conversation with my friends without someone uttering the phrase -- “he’s good on paper”.

Sadly, there is no official society which distributes pedigree papers, so we are forced to mentally construct the man’s pedigree as we get to know them. We pool tidbits from their life history and the social network. From here, we weigh their pedigree to determine date-ability and hook-up potential.

However, there is such a thing as the T.M.I Pedigree. Concerning childhood friends or college friends, we should overlook their extensive pedigree, as all too often having too much information leads to dating paralysis. No doubt, the friend who says, “he is husband material” will undoubtedly choke on her next date.

As Elle so eloquently paraphrased yesterday, “Take the penis off the pedestal.”

Then they are those instances, when you won't consider your wing-man as more that just that, because at the start of your 10-year (+) history, he dated a mutual friend. (A mutual friend who coincidentally is now happily married to another man.)

At some point we need to accept that history is history, and doesn't belong the pedigree evaluation.

NYC Guy Profile #6 – The Houseguest

2007-01-16T16:28:00.000-05:00

Age: 29
Height: 5'11"
Build: Medium
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Blond
Profession: Architect
Residence: Chicago, IL

Meeting Synopsis: When you live in NYC, weekend houseguests are a regular occurrence. This past weekend, my roommate hosted a friend who was in NYC to interview for a new position. When he arrived on Saturday I didn’t take much notice, as I was suffering was a massive wine hangover and in the middle of Ikea furniture assembly.

The Details: Sunday evening (of a 3-day weekend), my roommate calls it a night around 10PM, leaving the Houseguest and alone watching a Sunday night movie. Following my evening shower, I reseat myself on the couch to catch the tale end of Forrest Gump. As I do, the Houseguest comments, “You are a real cutie.” Unexpected but nice, I thank him for the compliment. Next thing I know, he leans over and kisses me. I start laughing at the unexpected move. He misinterprets my laughter and apologizes for being so forward, confessing he feels quite foolish for having done it. I explain that I was caught off guard -- after all this in my house on a Sunday evening, we’re both stone cold sober and he came out of left field. By now, he’s a bundle of nerves and has begun explaining that he noticed me the second he arrived, and he was disappointed that I hadn’t met up with them on Saturday night because he was prepared do something about it then, and since he was leaving the next day, he figured there was little to lose…

I couldn’t help but realize the Houseguest fed me more compliments in 5 minutes that I received from this guy over 5 months, so when he asked if he could kiss me again, I quickly weighed my options: It is Sunday night. It is two hours before bed. There is a lame movie on TV. He’s cute if you like that blond haired, Aiden-type of guy. And there wasn’t much else to do. I decided a make out session on the couch was harmless.

Deal Breaker: None, aside from that whole living in Chicago thing. Monday afternoon as he was leaving the apartment, my roommate was there to see him off. After he settled into his cab to the airport, he sent me a couple texts to say goodbye, in a more personal way that was afforded in front of my roommate.

The Crowning Glory: My hair is wavy, curly. The type of hair that has a tendency to look tousled and sexed-up, especially after a post-shower hook-up. Monday afternoon, I’m having a particularly fantastic hair day and am walking through the East Village spilling all details of the night before to Blondie. At that VERY moment I tell her, “Out of nowhere, the Houseguest kisses me...” the Producer steps in front of me. Grinning at me he says, “Hey Downtown.” I acknowledge him with a quick half smile, motion to my cell phone pointing out that I was deep in conversation and kept walking. I couldn’t have timed it better…

Sucker Punched

2007-01-09T20:12:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, Blondie (aka Cougar) ever so casually sucker punched me. During a run-of-the-mill phone conversation, she's sharing stories about her weekend antics with her current crush. At which time, she mentions that she had recently hung out with The Producer.

Background: It's been nearly three weeks and aside from a little moping around the day of the talk, I've suffered very little break-up distress. There have been a couple twings of how-could-I-be-so-stupid/blind/niave, however I've been impressively quite confident.

Then Blondie sucker punched me. She reminded me he existed. Suddenly there was no air in my lungs. How did it get hot so quickly? I mentally spun through the cycle of questions which should never be asked: didheaskaboutme?, didhesayanything?, didshesayanything?, washetalkingaboutsomeonenew?

Prescription to treat sucker punch:
One bottle of red wine
5 cigarettes
50 minutes on the phone with a dear friend
8 hours of sleep

Twelve hours later, my reasoning is intact. Ending something with someone is never glamourous. However since it took me nearly three weeks to have my first panic attack, full recovery can't be far away... Appropriately enough, there is a fantastic party planned for Saturday night, and a second even more fabulous party planned for next Thursday. That's all the distraction I need.

I'm sure you can relate...

2007-01-08T16:50:00.000-05:00

Recently, Ivy and I found ourselves enjoying ourselves a bit too much as we discussed the never funny topic of eating disorders. Often my friends keep their odd food behaviors to themselves, after all who wants your friend po-poing you, or trying to sabatoage your weight loss strategy scheme. A few diets which our friends, or Ivy and I personally tried to sustain on, include:

Anorexia – Sustain yourself on lettuce and mini boxes of raisins, see how long you last without passing out
Bulimia – It's a great idea at the beginning (Yum, eat the entire plate of cookies) which turns into a whole lot of regret
Laxatives - Desperation and true hatred for one's body
Weight Watchers – Calculated anorexia insanity. How few points (or bowls of that awful pointless soup) can you eat in one day? Brag to friends about sustaining on 16 points/day for a week
Pria or Luna Bars Only – If you can overlook the inevitable constipation, you have lots of tasty options to chose from
All (Insert Anything) diet - Why are these diets always for things like grapefruit,tomato and rice soup, broccoli or plain oatmeal. It would be great to lose weight on an All Spicy Tuna Roll diet or All Macaroni and Cheese diet
Wedding Crash Diet – Always love seeing a wedding photo album where the bride does not look a thing like her true self. Sometimes it is impossible to recognize the overly tan, skeleton in the photo as your 150 pound, translucent-pale friend
Coffee and Cigarettes – Does not do much for your oral health, but you look great in your jeans. Now if you can only get to sleep
Sleeping Pills - If you are sleeping you can't be eating
Heartbreak – True this severe weight-loss could be linked to stress, but I think it has more to do with the realization (and accompanying fear) that in order to ever have sex again, another person is going to see you naked
Stress – Food, who has time when your phone won’t stop ringing
Gymrexia – Obsession with burning off every single calorie eaten during the day, kept in a copious "food diary", plus an additional 150 for good measure. Cause you know those machines don’t accurately report calories burned
Water, Water, Water - Just carrying the Poland Spring bottle burns an extra 100 calories, not to mention all those trips to the bathroom
The Bender - Liquid calories only supported by bi-weekly calls to your delivery service
Lean-Cruise Delirium – Mental mind tricks and creative spice rack combinations to trick yourself into thinking the microwave dinner are in anyway satisfying

Often, one crash diet approach isn't enough, so we start combining our misguided rationales into even healthier combinations. Popular combinations include: 12 and 2, 11 and 4, 9 and 7, the possibilities are endless...

Ah, then to make sure you aren't missing any essential nutrients or causing long-term damage to your body, take a daily multivitamin and calcium pill. Sick, ladies. We'll all sick.

Bookstore Pick-Up

2007-01-04T18:04:00.000-05:00

Wasting time in the NYC book section of the Astor Place Barnes & Noble, someone standing next to me says, “I love the color of your jacket.” I look up to see a Russell Simmons look-a-like standing next to me and respond, “Um, thanks it is brown.” As I keep browsing, he explains to me that “brown is a very deep color. The individual who chooses to wear brown instead of black is showing complexity.”

Seeing that he doesn't have my interest, he inquires about an author whose book I am holding. Faced with a direct question that involves full sentences vs. a general ‘yes’ or ‘no’, I decide that it is easier to respond. We ended up in a conversation about books and authors, each recommending a book to the other. He gives me his name and I instinctively provide my bar name “I'm Roxie.”

At this point, people around us are eavesdropping. (If it weren't me being hit on, I’d do the exact same thing.) He then leans over and says, “I’m so glad you aren’t wearing any make-up. You are very beautiful and when I kiss your cheek my lips will be on your on bare skin.”

DID HE REALLY JUST SAY THAT!?! At this point, it occurs to me. This isn't real. I’m being Punk’d. Alright, since I’m not famous, I'm on MTV’s Breaking Point. Cause no real person would ever say that.

I tell him that he is inappropriate and he needs to go away. He quickly disappears behind the 2007 calendars.

Immediately, people start chuckling… I keep looking at the shelf waiting for the camera guy or producer to approach and ask for my signature on the release form. No one approaches. This can’t be for real. No one would actually say that. No one came over. So I can only assume it was a very, very sad attempt at the bookstore pick-up. How utterly cliche!

I guess this makes me a feminist

2007-01-03T13:46:00.000-05:00

Question: Where does the following take place?

If a married woman "earned or inherited any money, it was [her husband's]. Men owned their children. . . . A woman's body belonged to her husband, no matter how brutal or syphilitic he might be. If a woman was raped, it was her disgrace. . . . Few jobs were open to women -- mostly domestic service, teaching children and prostitution." Women did not have the right to vote, and abortion was illegal.”

Iraq…. No
Afghanistan… Nope
China… Not close

That’s New York City in the 1890’s. The copy is excerpted from “Sex Wars: A Novel of the Gilded Age in New York” by Marge Percy. I just finished reading this at the wee hours of the morning. Originally, I picked up the book for a yester-year look at my Lower East Side neighborhood. (Bring back the Ludlow Jail for the Saturday night drunkards. But, I’ll pass on the Houston Street brothels). The storyline follows early feminists: Victoria Woodhull (the first woman to run for U.S. President), Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady.

Until I read this book, when I thought of feminism automatically Smith College girls came to mind -- unshaven, lesbians, who hate men. (Youch - what an awful stereotype!) After finishing the book, I now have a whole new perspective. My fierce independence, my bank account, my self-supporting job, my Nuva-Ring, the freedom to travel… All thanks to these early feminists.

While there doesn't seem to be an overly active feminist movement these days, it seems women are still claiming ground. Consider that 100 years ago, few jobs were open to women. It is fitting that this week Nancy Pellosi becomes the first woman to act as Speaker of the House. It doesn't seem too far beyond the realm of possibilities for a woman president in the next 25 years...

Fake Working

2006-12-21T17:07:00.000-05:00

If I have to do one more hour of fake working I am going to lose my mind. Most days I pray for a moment of respite, when my phone isn't ringing or the client isn't freaking out over some non-existant crisis .

However, after nearly 8-hours of fake working, 8 hours of cleaning my desk, 8 hours of cleaning out my in-box, 8 hours of incessantly reading Gawker, Gothamist, Curbed and all accompanying links from my blog for something.... anything.... to stave off the boredom.

I can't believe it is only Thursday. I have to work tomorrow as well. I am going to shoot myself.

Adding Pounds

2006-12-20T13:52:00.000-05:00

After reading this WWD article about editors adding pounds to waifish models, I realize this isn’t the first I’ve heard about this.

One of my girlfriends works at Playboy, as we were discussing the aging Dan/Jan (?) covergirl Pamela Anderson; she mentioned that the original, un-touched photos were anything but sexy. The Playboy photo team, who usually shaves away unwanted inches from their cover models, actually had to ADD weight to Pamela Anderson. In one particular photo they had to add a rib, since her stomach was so concave it nearly touched her spine. (If you’ve seen the issue, I’m referring to the first 2-page spread photo, side shot of Pamela on all fours.)

Another friend, whose office handles photo retouching for major advertising campaigns, often tells me about how they erase shoulder blades from side-posed models.

Can’t believe anything you see or read…

My Blog Makes Me Smarter

2006-12-18T18:07:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I reread my posts and I see right through myself. Last week, I wrote this. After disappointing behavior by The Producer on Saturday evening at my friend's birthday party, I spent a hungover morning in bed with the book that nearly every girl has read, but refuses to admit to. Let's reevaluate the problems with last week's post...

Problem #1: …eyeing the Producer and me ask, "So are you two together?"… he would make a crack about us between the sheets.

Problem #2: Despite the fact that she said these words very loudly and very clearly - neither he nor I acknowledged them...

Problem #3: … settled into a very comfortable groove

What’s in a word? A lot. Trust, commitment and expectations to name a few. Between my posts and the book, I had a moment of clarity. I placed the call at 1PM on Sunday, “Are you free to meet for coffee?” (In the world of relationships, this phrase translates to -- we are going to break up, prepare yourself -- cause no couple ever legitimately meets for coffee.)

We met. We talked. I walked.

He emailed this morning, I responded: “Clarity is refreshing.” Then I deleted each and every email he's sent in the past six months and put an automatic delete on his address.

Drunk Depositing

2006-12-18T16:05:00.000-05:00

Thursday before the holiday party, my office distributed our annual bonuses. In the world of PR where a bonus is not guaranteed, any type of holiday bonus is something to be thankful for.

I was quite happy with my bonus and put the check in my purse before heading to the office holiday party. I woke up Friday morning, in a post-holiday party world of hurt, which got even worse after I opened my purse to find the bonus check missing.

Now if I had been in the right frame I mind, I would have retraced my steps. But my steps were fuzzy. I wasn't quite sure how I ended up at Bar13 on gay night... Since I hadly had the energy to breathe, let alone deal with the crushing consequences of having lost my bonus, I put it out of sight for the moment.

Mid-afternoon once my head stopped throbing and I began to feel a bit more grounded, I began to wonder about my holiday bonus... How in the world could have I misplaced it? How long before I have to sheepishly bring up the topic to my payroll department? How easily can someone cash a check if someone else's name is on it?

In my haze, I made one logical decision - I logged on to view my online bank statement. Hells bells, there it was! At 11PM, I had deposited the check at the Bank of America near Madison Sqaure Park. Aside from the fact that I don't recall being anywhere near Madison Sqaure Park, I accept it...

How did I reward myself for my incredibly responsible behavior? I bought two new pair of peep-toe, platform heels and put the rest to my VISA bill.

My apology

2006-12-15T12:09:00.000-05:00

Dear God:

I apologize. I apologize for all my poor choices, like that fourth ice luge shot at the holiday party last night. I'm very very sorry. Please just stop the world from spinning, and perhaps turn down the brightness of the sun. If you do, I will never, ever, ever drink again. I will start going to church. This Sunday, I promise. Just please, dull the pain, stop the hurt, end the agony.

Signed,
The Reformed

What's in a word...

2006-12-11T19:32:00.000-05:00

Saturday night, I begged Avenue Elle to come to a house party in Queens. Reason #1: As a single gal, Avenue Elle, should accept all party invitations on the off chance that she meet the man of her dreams. Reason #2: I needed a wing-gal on the off chance that The Producer became side-tracked with his friends.

I promised Elle lots of good looking men, and I delivered. Sadly, these men were more interested in The Producer than either of us. The Producer always tells me that gay men love him. I had assumed this was his ego talking, however on Saturday night I was witness to it.

All night long, men would approach the three of us and chat us up. Then eyeing the Producer and me ask, "So are you two together?" I would say something like, "we hang out" and he would make a crack about us between the sheets. Then our new party friend would disappear...

As we left the party, Elle teased The Producer about all the broken hearts he left at the party. Then she brought up the unspoken words, "Would you two just get over it! Call him your boyfriend. She's your girlfriend. It so obvious to everyone!" Despite the fact that she said these words very loudly and very clearly - neither he nor I acknowledged them, not that night on the subway platform, not that night at his place, not the next morning...

After and I overcame a series of hiccups (Case #1, Case #2, Case #3, Case #4) we have settled into a very comfortable groove. Calls, emails, mid-week sleep overs, weekend sleep overs, dinners, movies, bottles of wine, invitations to "meet my friends", weekends out of town... It is all quite regular.

Now who is bogarting the adult relationship rule book? At what point are you use that "all-accompanying" relationship word -- boyfriend/girlfriend? This isn't Jr. High, he isn't going to ask me at the dance on Friday if I'll be his girlfriend... One thing is certain, I am not going to use the word first.

Shopper's Delight

2006-12-08T12:10:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite stores on Orchard Street, La Di Da, is closing. I received notice of the storewide 50% yesterday afternoon and headed there straight after work. After putting down my VISA, I’m now the very happy owner of $700 worth of merchandise

- Alice & Olivia jeans ($52, marked down from $170). I have lusted after a pair of Alice and Olivia pants since first reading about how they compliment your figure. I can now attest – it is true! I’m in love. I may never change out of these pants.
- Sheri Rose black halter dress ($110, marked down from $220)
- Rapp and Posavek Ainsley purse ($175, marked down from $385). Unnecessary, but so pretty and soft. Since I’m not getting any Christmas presents. I justify this purchase as a holiday gift to myself.

It makes me incredibly sad to see an independent boutique closing. Once I finish working for “the man” in NYC, I hope to move to a smaller city or a college town, where I can open my own boutique. College towns are a gold mine for this type of store -- mom and dad’s money flows freely, colleges are shoving credit cards at their students, and the endless social engagements (each requiring a new outfit). In the day and age of malls, there is a genuine gap in unique, stylish clothes... I could do this. I could bring style to the masses of Banana Republic, Gap wearing women.

I am beginning to develope a philosophy for what makes a successful store.

PRICES: The store can offer expensive wares, however there needs to be something that is reasonable. This should be something that anyone who walks into your store can afford to purchase. It’s psychological, once you start spending money; you are more inclined to tack on a second purchase. And this affordable item’s “value” is inflated for being sold in your boutique. (Case and point: The blue Tiffany box with the $60 keychain inside. That will be the best key chain ever.)

SIZES: Boutique clothing tends to be very true to size. This I accept. As a size 6, I am a medium, where at a national chain like Banana Republic, I’m a size 4, small. When placing orders for clothing keep this in mind. Order up, or accept that you'll be selling 1/2 of your merchandise on the sale rack to the 6 women in town who fit in a size 2.

PERSONALITY: Perhaps this is the marketing side of me, but the story needs to have personality and presence. It isn't enough to just sell clothes, you need to make the store part of something. Host in-store events, feature local designers, annual back-to-school runway shows... whatever, just do something, anything to give your store personality...

Perhaps in 4 years when I tire of the city's rat race, I'll actually get around to making this a reality.

Brunette vs. Blonde

2006-12-05T18:59:00.000-05:00

One of my blonde gal friends is toying with the idea of dying her hair brunette for a change. As I (a brunette) was discussing this with another blonde friend, we ended up in the timeless debate of hair color and attractiveness.

Blondie was convinced that, "Men give more attention to blondes. On the sidewalk, we catch their attention first and they always do a double take."

As a brunette, I refuse to believe that a random man's double take necessarily had anything to do with hair color. I believe that type of attention is based more on our physical body type, attire, or the contrast between your hair color and eye. It seems blondes limit themselves, thinking only of their hair color as the thing worth noticing. After all blonde hair is expensive to up-keep. (As someone who used to have blondish-hair, I can attest to this.)

Here a brunette friend tells of crossing over to the blonde side, and then crossing right back. I am not alone in thinking brunettes are actually having all the fun - and quite possibly getting more respect. (Insert your favorite 'dumb blonde' joke here.)

My New Year's Eve Pledge

2006-12-04T19:04:00.000-05:00

I will not:
... spend too much on a glittery explosion of an outfit that is only acceptable on New Year’s Eve
... make a formal commitment to plans until after Christmas Day (house party invitations trump all)
... obsess about who I am going to (or not going to) kiss at midnight
... try to hail a cab at 11PM
... get so carried away pre-partying that I fall and bruise my cocyx
... forget that I can't drink shots without throwing up the next day
... go above 14th Street
... make a New Year's resolution

I will:
... avoid the "open bar" scene
... surround myself with those friends who chose to stay in NYC this year
... call as many people as possible at midnight
... remember to bring my digital camera
... upload my photos to my computer before February 2007

2006-11-28T21:48:00.000-05:00

I'm a complete sucker for Christmas lights during the holiday season. There is nothing quite like shooting down a quiet, dark suburban street when suddenly you come upon a house ablaze with Christmas lights. It is so warm and inviting... You find yourself slowing down and pausing to look and praise (or critique) the owner's lighting choices.

My home has never been the flashiest on the block, but in my mind it has always been the classiest. White candle lights in each window. An over sized holiday wreath at the front of the house with a red bow and white candle light. A holiday wreath on the front door and the back bay window which overlooks the rest of the neighborhood filled by a lit Christmas tree. Simple. Sophisticated.

My personal preference are small bulbed white lights. No color, no flashing. However, on occasion, I see purpose and use for the large colored bulbs for outdoor decorations.

When I was in college, lit-icicles appeared on the scene. These were usually done in good taste covering the complete front expanse of the roof. However there is always that one neighbor who feels it is enough to only "icicle" part of the roof, or just the windows. This is a heinous. And should be avoided. If you can't spring for an extra box of icicles, perhaps you should also reconsider any lights at all - after all electricity costs money as well...

This year, however, I have seen the worst. There no way it can get worse.

Inflatable, Animated, Snow Globe Lawn Decorations.

They are everywhere! They are heinous! After viewing the price tag on these suckers ($200), I find it ironic that these eye-sores appear on the lawns of houses which appear to be most in neglect. Due to their limited availability, the police department in my small hometown is now forced to canvas the houses which have these eye-sores to watch for burglars.

Honestly, for the sake of good taste, I can only hope that our desire for something bigger, brighter and more eye catching than our neighbor comes to an end soon. I can't imagine a holiday decorating fate worse than this...

Hookah Anyone?

2006-11-21T11:22:00.000-05:00

Having decided that Le Souk sucks, my friends and I have been on the search for a replacement hookah bar. Quite unexpectedly, we found the ideal replacement --

Located in NoLita, Moomia is a refreshing step outside Hell Square and it is everything Le Souk pretends to be. The staff was incredibly accomodating to our large group, shuffling the seating until we were all comfortably seated. The hookahs were fantastic and affordable, so there was no guilt. The waitress aren't distracted with bellydancing, so they keep your cocktails filled. In addition, the music is completely dancable.

Best off - no bachelorette parties.

Between midnight and 2:30AM, the bar was at it's busiest. However, without bottle service forced upon you - a'la Le Souk - seating is fluid and you can find yourself a banquet if your friends decide to partake of a hookah.

Growth Spurt

2006-11-16T19:29:00.000-05:00

New job = new health insurance.

Earlier this week, I met my new lady doctor for the first time. Since this was our first meeting, we covered all the basics -- family history, personal history, etc…

A bit of background. I take serious issue with my height. I've been 5'3 since high school. I have dreams of being tall -- 5'7 -- that's heaven. Which explains why I’m always in heels, always. I know my insistence upon all-heels-all-the-time is condemning me to a future filled with bunions, hammertoes or possibly worse. But my desire to project an appearance of height outweighs all future health concerns.

So, the doctor measures me and quickly reports back - 5’4. I made her measure me twice just to be sure. It is true, I am tall... Now with my heels on, I'm right in the sweet spot of 5'7.

Do we keep growing in our 20's? I'm not sure, but the doctor mentioned that my mini-obsession with Bikram Yoga may have contributed to my new height. All those spine-lenghtening exercises... That’s the best incentive ever to make it to class.

Santa Hates Me

2006-11-07T17:26:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, my dad emailed the following:

"Being the head of the family I make this proclamation: No (commercialized) Christmas presents. Instead let's get creative. I'm making a meal requirement, each of you will be responsible for at least one evening)meal, this should be something new and/or favorite."

No Christmas tree overflowing with presents? No stockings? No Christmas shopping? No wrapping paper? No fighting with the scotch tape? This is terrible! I love holiday shopping.... I like opening gifts... Most of all I like giving gifts (really!). I am going to blame my brother for this terrible idea.

Considering that I don't cook, this could be disasterous. I feel my only option is to recreate the the winning recipe. My family is so abnormal!

Taking Applications for New Boy Toys

2006-11-06T08:47:00.000-05:00

After dealing with the Producer's inability to commit to anything more than bed-buddies and confirming that the Nudist hooked up with my roommate. (Yes, my roommate) I'm taking a self-imposed break from these guys.

Yup! You read that correctly, the Nudist hooked up with my roommate.

Alright, I probably should have expected something like that, they are drinking buddies and I had him on the bench for such a long time... But still, there should be some sort of roommate rule here, or something.

That said, with the Nudist out of the game and the Producer on the "fun bench" ... I have some extra time, so it is open application time for new boy toys...

I probably should refocus all this time and energy on something other than boys, but what fun is that.

New Policy: Don't Ask. Don't Tell

2006-11-04T15:25:00.000-05:00

I effectively ignored The Producer for 4 days, screening all his calls. It wasn't until he sent a 17 paragraph email of apology on Tuesday that I softened. I met him for dinner and we talked it out. Well, conducted a mini peace accords during which we established some rules for our hanging out.

I'm weak I know.

When you start off as bed buddies with an "i don't want more from this" attitude - at some point you need to acknowledge when things do change and you actually start respecting/liking/caring for the other person. We had that moment and we've agreed to a new open-dating policy of "Don't Ask. Don't Tell"

Truth be told. After taking this self-imposed break, I'm not feeling as crazy for him as I once was. It is like some of the illusion is gone... A couple weeks back my lady friends prodded me to put The Producer on the fun bench, so I could focus more attention on the other guy in my life.

So as of this argument, I've put the Producer on the fun bench. I'm now going to do the right thing and give the guy I've been pretty much shitting on (figuratevely speaking) the respect that he deserves. Cause he's actually put up with a lot of my attitude and fickleness these last few months...

Batter Up!

Deleted

2006-10-30T07:57:00.000-05:00

It is not always easy to make the right decision, but it sure helps to have a bottle of Bailey's and a cup of coffee.

Saturday morning, I caught the 11:11AM train to the Hunt with one minute to spare. The evening prior, I was out too late, drank too much and slept too little. The Halloween party was fun, but in what's fast becoming par of the course, the Producer and I quarled throughout the evening. What were we fighting about, well:

Earlier this week, he mentioned that he's slept with a couple other girls since we've been hanging out. I can't get mad about this because obviously, so have I. However, his admission pissed me off, because I feel he has intentionally been deceitful in hiding it. From our casual sex beginning, we were both open and honest about who we had been with... or were still involved with... I never hid or lied about anything with the Nudist and I guess I expected simliar openness from him.

How wrong I was!

Also, at first, I thought it was endearing that he wanted me to quit smoking cigs and dabbling with drugs. And then he insisted I meet with his financial planner... Cute right? He cares about making me a better person. Well, I'm starting to think that this has a lot more to do with control, and less with accepting me - or tolerating my faults.

I originally found it attractive that he was so self-assured... I'm getting a little tired of the ego. He often teases me for liking guys who are pushovers, or in his opinion "vunerable." He all too often points out that in dating him, I'm playing in the "major leagues" vs. the "minor league" guys that I have surrounded myself with. (Egotistical, huh?)

Honestly, there is something seriously wrong with the whole situation. Avenue Elle pointed out to me, "he brings out all of your insecurities." She's right! Another girlfriend, pulled me aside on Saturday night and said she didn't like the way he was treating me. Sometimes a gal needs to listen to her ladies and reevalute. What's that saying... something about seeing the forest through the trees?

So, after a couple cups of coffee spiked with Bailey's, I flipped open my phone - deleted his number, cleared my call history, sent texts and recieved text cues. In the digital age, removing someone from your life is as easy as that.

______________________

Update: As further affirmation that I've made the right decision, I read a post like this and I thank my lucky stars that I have enough self-respect to walk away.

Disaster Preparedness

2006-10-27T12:37:00.000-04:00

Perparedness [pri-pair-id-nis, -paird-nis] –noun 1. the state of being prepared; readiness.

Thank you State of New York for sending me the NYC Hurricane Evacuation Route map. I now know that I live in a Zone which "may experience storn surge flooding from a Moderate (Catergory 2 and higher) hurricane. I also learned, a storm surge may put parts of NYC under 30 feet of water.

I live on the 5th Floor, I feel relatively safe from flood waters. But still, this is a good reminder to renew my renter's insurance. (My policy probably doesn't "acts of nature" -- I should check on that, just in case.)

The World Has Edges!

2006-10-26T10:27:00.000-04:00

Did you know trees have leaves...computer screens have crisp, clear font... it's possible to recognize people from across the room?

My biggest surprise since donning glasses three day ago is that the world has edges. Sounds so weird, but it is true... I've been living in fuzzy land.

I knew my vision was awful (-2), but I had no idea the effect blurry vision had on me. In particular my professional life. In the office, around 7pm, my eyes would ache and it was impossible to read anything. Considering that I work in PR and my job is 90% reading/writing -- this is not a good thing. Also, since I procrastinate all day long, 7-8pm is when most of my uber-important emails are sent.

Three days in to having four eyes, and I'm loving it -- No more eye strain. It freaks me out to wonder how many of the ever so slightly visible crow's feet around my eyes were caused by my squinting at a computer screen. It's time for a little Botox, it is preventative you know...

P.S. Aren't my frames adorable?

2006-10-24T15:29:00.000-04:00

Saturday night, I found myself walking into the Landmark Loew’s Jersey Theatre in Journal Square to attend a Beck concert. First off, the theatre is the most spectacular, classic venue – which every New Yorker should leave the isle to visit. Think of it as Jersey’s version of Radio City Music Hall (without all the pretension).

Pre-gaming before the show, my friend joked that I couldn’t name five Beck songs. (Loser... Devil’s Haircut… Where It’s At… The New Pollution... uh, uh, uh… Damn! Stuck at four) Despite my lackluster skills at naming Beck tunes – the concert was simply ridiculous.

First off, there was the "Team-America-esque" puppet show which mimicked everything the band did. Completely captivating! Especially when band members would interact with “their” respective puppets.

As a sucker for any drum/percussion solo … my favorite part of the show occured mid-way through when Beck took center stage and played a few solo acoustic tunes. Meanwhile, his band mates dined on stage. At first, it appeared an interesting way to add life (or visual distraction) during the slow, mellow set. Unexpectedly, the band started clinking their silverware, glasses and plates, crescendoing into Beck’s “Clap Hands.” Even my guy friends who stand staunch and solid during even the funky James Brown tune were bopping their heads.

Until I learn how to upload UTube Videos, view "Clap Hands" here...
http://youtube.com/watch?v=qVVNwe_d28g

So fun! I would do it again in a heartbeat. It was the best $35 I've spent in a LONG time...

Call the Exterminator

2006-10-20T11:14:00.000-04:00

There is a serious mosquito problem in the East Village and Lower East Side. I have no idea where these bugs have come from - but they are everywhere. I seen them in the bedroom, bathroom, at the gym, in the ATM, at the corner hot dog joint.

Honestly, it is cold outside. Shouldn't these little buggers be dead.

After spending a night at the Producer's house, we nuzzled under the blankets with only our heads exposed. In the morning, I awoke to no fewer than 20 mosquito bites - one on my forehead, my palm, most on my back, arms and legs. At this point, I doubt if even bathing in calamine lotion would relieve my discomfort.

I have screens in my window. Short of sleeping with a citranella candle burning or bathing in DEET, I have no idea how to stop this endless biting. Perhaps if I dial 3-1-1 and report the mosquito problem, they will come spray the neighborhood. Anything. This needs to end. I'm itchy and tired.

Steak and Blow Jobs

2006-10-19T09:25:00.000-04:00

Sunday is The Producer's 31st birthday. I’m at a serious loss for how to handle this. The facts: We’ve been hanging out for three months and refer to our situation as “dating.” Not exclusive, just dating. Lately, we've been spending about 2-3 night a week together. We email throughout the day. Talk/text each evening. Recently, I attended a wedding as his guest and we embarked upon our first road trip.

How in the world should I acknowledge his birthday?

My guy friends joke that the only gift a man ever wants is a steak and a blow job. Okay, that’s pretty much a given – it being his birthday and all.

It is too soon to be making these decisions... I'm thinking dinner. perhaps a place a tad nicer than the usual Italian fare that we frequent. Or perhaps, I should take him to what's quickly becoming "our restaurant".

Three months and a gal shouldn’t be making decisions like this...

____________________________________

UPDATE:

Genius! I just purchased two tickets to this haunted house as a birthday gift. Next week on date night, I'll treat him to dinner around 8pm, where we will have our fill of wine. Then post dinner, with a good buzz on, we can stop by the haunted house on our way home. Totally fun. Completely casual. Added bonus: Haunted houses give you lots of excuses for "I'm so frightened" touching.

(I sure hope this goes over better than the pedicure I forced him into on our last date.)

Fiscally Responsible

2006-10-17T14:09:00.000-04:00

My baby brother is looking to buy a house. I’m in shock! I’m two years older and I’m lucky have maintain $1,000 in my savings account, let alone the tens of thousands needed to purchase a home.

(However, this weekend I did purchase a stunning pair of brushed black boots.)

Alright my priorities are obviously messed up. But I work such long hours all week long… I feel like spending $ is therapy. I just can’t say no to vacations, shopping, drinking and dining… Pathetic, I know.

I have no illusions of marrying into $. It is actually quite the opposite, my dating track record shows a long line of fiscally-challenged individuals.

You know things are bad when the guy you are dating insists you meet a financial planner. Or when your parents consider you their "fiscally irresponsible" child, too flakey to handle their estate in case of their passing.

Okay, okay, I get it. I need to be grow up. I will accept the meeting with the financial planner. I will invest in something other than my 401K. And I will (try to) stop the Saturday shopping binges…

Baby steps…
________________________
After posting this and sulking for a moment, I read the following on The Budgeting Babe's blog:

"The typical first-time home buyer is age 32, according to the National Association of Realtors, based in Chicago. Similarly, surveys by the Investment Company Institute in Washington suggest people typically start investing in mutual funds in their late 20s or early 30s, with their first investments often made through 401(k) or similar employer-sponsored retirement plans."

Whew, my experience is typical. I have 4 years to get my fiscal ass in gear... All is not lost...

$610.60

2006-10-12T10:29:00.000-04:00

As someone who generally scorns forwards, when my friend sent me this yesterday, I had to immediately take the test. I’m not sure what my obsession is. Perhaps I like to see how my score ranks compared to that of my friend; perhaps I like to see how much I’ve strayed from my catholic school upbringing. Either way, I can’t stop myself from taking these Purity-type tests.

From the following list, add up the monetary value of what you’ve done… My mother would be so ashamed of me... I hit $610.60.

Smoked pot -- $10
Did acid -- $5
Ever had sex at church -- $25
Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you -- $40
Had sex with someone on MySpace -- $25
Had sex for money -- $100
Ever had sex with a Puerto Rican -- $20
Vandalized something -- $20
Had sex on your parents' bed -- $10
Beat up someone -- $20
Been jumped -- $10
Crossed dressed -- $10
Given money to stripper -- $25
Been in love with a stripper -- $20
Kissed some one who's name you didn't know -- $0.10
Hit on some one of the same sex while at work -- $15
Ever drive drunk -- $20
Ever got drunk at work, or went to work while sti ll drunk -- $50
Used toys while having sex -- $30
Got drunk, passed and don't remember the night before -- $20
Went skinny dipping -- $5
Had sex in a pool -- $20
Kissed someone of the same sex -- $10
Had sex with someone of the same sex -- $20
Cheated on your significant other -- $10
Masturbated -- $10
Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close friend -- $20
Done oral -- $5
Got oral -- $5
Done / got oral in a car while it was moving -- $25
Stole something -- $10
Had sex with someone in jail -- $25
Made a nasty home video -- $15
Had a threesome -- $50
Had sex in the wild -- $20
Been in the same room while someone was having sex -- $25
Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars -- $20
Had sex with someone 10 years older -- $20
Had sex with someone under 21 and you are over 27 -- $25
Been in love with two people or more at the same time -- $50
Said you love someone but didn't mean it - - $25
Went streaking -- $5
Went streaking in broad daylight -- $15
Been arrested -- $5
Spent time in jail -- $15
Peed in the pool -- $0.50
Played spin the bottle -- $5
Done something you regret -- $20
Had sex with your best friend -- $20
Had sex with someone you work with at work -- $25
Had anal sex -- $80
Lied to your mate -- $5
Lied to your mate about the sex being good -- $25

The Other Woman Speaks

2006-10-11T09:49:00.000-04:00

When you are outed, there is always another side to the story. Thankfully, the “other woman” in the saga of the Nudist came forward and posted a comment with her side of story. Now, in Betty’s words:

“I ratted you out but only because I went on the EXACT SAME DATE with him. It was kind of weird, b/c I stumbled on your site by accident and I was shocked to find that you met him exactly 5 days after I met him. I just checked back today because I was curious to see what happened with the guy who thought it was "morally reprehesible" to read about himself on a website. I see it wasn't as bad as to keep on going out with you. I am sure he is still reading the site, as he read most of it when I directed him to it and I think he was flattered. Boys are strange. I didn't mean to out you, so I apologize, it was a kind of a weird situation, how do you accept a date with someone another girl has written about. It sounds like you like he producer. I, myself, am torn between two men. One, I have been courting in my unemployment, and the other I was in love with when I was 18! We just reconnected after 8 years and I feel like that idiot 18 year old again, totally smitten with this older guy. I don't write about it though, I am past that stage. Good luck in all your man ventures and here's hoping we never meet the same guy again!”

When I was outed, blogger friends cautioned me that I’d start self-editing myself and my entries. At the time, I denied that would happen. However, it is true. I often find myself wondering what he would think or say if he read a certain entry. Even worse, is that I don't blog about our what happens when we hang out... (Imagine the salacious details you’ve been missing.)

I do love that the Nudist told Betty being blogged about was "morally reprehensible." When I see him this weekend, I can't wait to use that in conversation. Although he will probably have already read my blog and will know about everything...

Winner 2006 Chili Cook-Off

2006-10-10T14:22:00.000-04:00

Who would have guessed this Downtown girl could cook? Especially since my idea of cooking dinner is pulling back the plastic wrap of a Lean Cuisine and placing it in the microwave for three minutes.

This weekend, I traveled to Boston to take part in the newlywed’s annual chili cook-off. The previous year’s winner used bacon in his recipe and won in a landslide victory. There is no monetary prize tied to this contest - just bragging rights.

I dubbed my winning recipe – Tatanka Organic. I didn’t follow a recipe; I just added lots of crazy meat, mainly buffalo, as well as ground sirloin and cubed chicken andoullie sausage. Special thanks to The Nudist for recommending we roast the jalapeno peppers and add red wine vinegar and pickle juice (no joke) as final ingredients.

For the next year, the winning engraved silver spoon is predominantly displayed in my kitchen, appropriately enough -- right next to my microwave.

Killington 2006-2007

2006-10-05T12:26:00.000-04:00

For the first time - I’ve signed up for a seasonal share. One weekend every month, I’ll be swooshing down the slopes in Killington, Vermont and boozing it up at the Pickle Barrel Nightclub.

Last year, I crashed my friend’s share and had two of the greatest weekends of the winter. I kissed boys, was caught man-fishing by my ex’s friend, and invented "avant discoteque" a whole new reason to drink wine.

The house I am renting is totally sweet. Located right off the main drag we’ll have the entire house to ourselves. With real bedrooms vs. bunk beds and a fireplace in the living room, this is a real grown up share… Another perk, we are within walking distance to the bar, so we won’t have to risk drinking and driving. The crowning glory, which thrills any ski bunny…. A HOT TUB.

I met the guy organizing the house, one drunken night in Jersey City. I was showing my friends the greatest bar game of all time, when he and his friends seated next to us, badgered us to get a game started. Next thing you know, we are the best of friends (silly pranks have a way of bringing people closer).

As the bar was closing, the night quickly became a party at Ski Boy’s house, drinking magnums of champagne while listening to the cheesiest of I-Tunes. I ended up leaving around 5:30 AM, when the PR gal straddled my friend’s boyfriend on the couch and planted a kiss on him. My girlfriend had us out the door before anyone registered what had just happened.

True, this was not my night of wise decisions. However – I did give Ski Boy my number for the sole reason to getting into his ski house for the 06-07 ski season. Who knows what I’m getting myself into, but I’m sure a couple interesting posts will come of it.

Four Eyes

2006-10-03T13:22:00.000-04:00

I finally went to the ophthalmologist last week to get my eyes checked. It’s been a long time coming.

After putting me through the battery of tests, the doctor sat back in her chair and looked at me and seriously asked, “Have you been driving?” Being a Manhattan gal, I don’t drive often. So I replied, “Yes. Every couple of months I find myself behind the wheel.” She then gave me a look of great concern and said, “Until you get your glasses – Do NOT drive.”

I obviously knew I was leaving the appointment with glasses, but to think that my vision is so bad it warranted a stern warning from my doctor. I had no idea… Either way, my blurry road is coming to an end. I pick up my new frames tomorrow. I’m hoping they make me appear more as a sexy librarian vs. square pegs cast off.

30 Days to Halloween

2006-10-02T15:50:00.000-04:00

It is never too early to start planning what I’ll be wearing to my second favorite holiday. (My favorite holiday is the 4th of July – beers, bbq and bathing suits. What’s not to love?) Since I’m already invited to a fantastic party, I started stressing this weekend about what to wear. It must be unique… memorable… But not slutty.

On Saturday, inspiration hit while I was shopping at Sephora with Elle.... feather faux-eyelashes. Combined with my Project Runway obsession, I began brainstorming costumes which can be built around this accessory. It is as simple (and chic) as creating a bird costume.…

This concept posed one final issue – wings. Aside from slut-o-ween, wings are the #2 Halloween no-no. In college my girlfriend’s costume involved wings, as I recall she spent the entire party in the corner, as her wings made maneuvering around the packed room impossible. I refuse to be that girl.

In need of a solution, my fashion forward roommate quickly suggested a dolman shirt/dress. (Dolman = Ridiculously big sleeved shirts) Once I’m armed with a glue gun and a batch of feathers, I have a serious arts and crafts project ahead of me. My finishing touches will be citrus shade tights with black shoes.

My Pity Party

2006-09-27T21:49:00.000-04:00

Last weekend I celebrated the marriage of my best friend to an absolutely amazing guy. There is nothing quite like a wedding – filled with love and friends - to make you realize how down right pathetic single life can be.

When I am in NYC - I love being single. However, once I leave the island and enter suburbia, I realize that a stacked social schedule of parties, dates, bars, concerts, and dinner parties isn’t everything. Friends outside the city are falling in love, purchasing homes, raising puppies that grow into large, lake swimming, stick catching dogs…

For two years running, I've attended every single wedding dateless... These weddings become reason enough for me to throw myself a pity-me party. Somewhere after the rehearsal dinner and before the wedding, I get depressed. Depressed to the point that I cry. I cry to whoever happens to be sitting next to me at that moment -- Be it a random wedding guest (2005) or the bride (last weekend). We're talking sobbing tears, lock yourself in the bathroom tears...

I look around at my friends and realize we’re all having a blast because we’ve known each other since college. For 10 years, these couples have been sharing every moment of their lives together. (I know these all are not good moments, but still they are SHARED.) In these 10 years:

-- I’ve ended two long-term relationships. One resulted in a broken heart. The other a kick-him-to-the-curb-debacle
-- Had 10-12 one-night stands or casual relationships
-- Endured 364 sexless days

I tell myself I’m making the most of my late 20’s – but I’m starting to feel that I’m missing out on a party that everyone else has tickets to. I hate missing a good party…

Anyway, there is nothing like a friend’s wedding to toss a single gal into a depressing cycle of self-doubt and cynicism. That said, I am on my way home to find my way into the bottom of a bottle of Rioja. Self-medication is in order.

Who loves you ... I do of course

2006-09-25T19:23:00.000-04:00

This cat is going to learn some new tricks and you are all invited to learn as well. MoxieintheCity.net invites us all to attend one of her Fellatio, Kama Sutra for Men or Women or Lapdance/Striptease Classes for free!!!
(Well, at least the first five who RSVP in each city will attend for free...)

1) Log on to MoxieintheCity
2) Select an event (Bedroom workshop or lap/strip class only)
3) RSVP (do not pre-pay) with promo code CHIC. That code is valid ONLY if you RSVP at least 3 days in advance.

Spaces are limited. Only 5 free admission passes (good for one person each) available. Use of the CHIC code will ensure free admission as long as you are one of the first 5 people to RSVP with it.

Now how's that for love?

Pillow Talk - What not to say

2006-09-18T14:05:00.000-04:00

His Fumble

Saturday night, during post-coitus cuddling, the Producer murmurs into the nape of my neck, “Joanna, you’re funny.” The temperature in the room immediately drops 30 degrees – My name is not Joanna. His ex’s name is Joanna. Until I coolly commented that, “My name is not Joanna” he did not realize his error.

He immeditately launched an incredibly nauseating apology. (Kissing my neck.) I don’t care about her anymore... (Kissing my cheek.) I’m sorry... (Kissing my ear.) You are right to be miffed, but trust me - she means nothing to me...

The whole scene ticked me off even more. I thought about leaving – but it was 5:30 AM. At 6:30 AM, I was tired of hearing him talk. I wanted to go to bed, so I let him off the hook: “You are drunk and you said it when you were half asleep.” Case closed.

My Fumble

Something about the Producer which I’ve shockingly remained mum about is his prowess in bed. He is attentive, long-lasting, adventurous, consistent and always puts me first. Not to mention, his stamina is practically unmatchable.

Following the “Joanna” evening, we slept till early afternoon at which point we woke up and started having morning sex. I say lots of things during sex, things like, “I love when you do that” or “I love that.” However, this morning I cut my sentence short and all that came out was, “I love you.”

I do not love him, this I am positive of. I was in the moment and I said it, but I did not mean it. Sadly, I can’t take those words back and I don't think he's going to let me forget it. That afternoon, when his football team was trounced he texted me: “I'm really down, my team is losing. Can you tell me you love me again to cheer me up?”

He said Joanna.
I said Love.
It seems this match is a draw.

I'm getting a raise...

2006-09-14T16:16:00.000-04:00

… well at least CNN.com thinks I’ve earned it.

According to a study from The Journal of Labor Research, those who drink in a social setting earned more than those who tipped a glass at home.

Female drinkers earned 14% more. Men drinkers earned 10% more and they can tack on another 7% by going to a bar at least once a month…. (This, sadly, was not true for women.)

How you ask does drinking do this for you?? Well, it increases your social capital. You have more connections, you relate better to people and you have greater charisma.

It seems I’m on my way to making six figures. I'll raise a glass to that. Cheers!

3 months later...The phone rings

2006-09-13T12:41:00.000-04:00

Nearly three months to the day, since I ditched the Date Night Guy (a.k.a Secret Guy) at my birthday party, I receive this phone message:

"Hi Downtown, it's Date Night Guy calling… I know I am a blast from the past. Listen, I was just calling you because I was thinking about how I left things and I wanted to apologize to you. Um, it wasn’t the nicest thing for me to do, just fall off the face of the earth. Um, so I just wanted to clear the air, or whatever. I don’t expect a call back, but if you want to call me back you are more than welcome to. That’s about it. I hope all is well with you. Take care. Bye."

Obviously, his perception of the night was quite different than mine. This is the guy I hung out with for four months and we got to second base (that’s ‘up the shirt’ for you non-baseball players) twice. FOUR MONTHS!!! There is something to be said for taking it slow – but this was absurd. I’d even begun doubting my sex appeal…

He was like relationship training wheels, a stepping stone to getting over my ex. Once I felt the desire to have a physical relationship with someone, I pegged him as Problem #1 to achieving that goal and shook him off, ending my sex-less existence with a vengance.

It seems I owe him a huge "Thanks." I'll return his call in three months.

Wino of the Month Club II

2006-09-08T14:09:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I picked up my second monthly installment from my wine club. This month it's three bottles of Spanish Tempranillo. According to Wikipedia, Tempranillo is the best-known grape varietal used to create Rioja.

My wine cabinet now contains…
• 04 Ercavio Roble
• 03 Don Roman Rioja
• 01 Marquis de Tomares Rioja

To my knowledge, I don’t think I’ve tried Rioja before. So I’m looking forward to this month’s wino-of-the month experience.

Wino of the Month Club I – Pinot Noir

The Dog House

2006-09-07T19:56:00.000-04:00

I’m in the dog house with The Producer. Friday night after “the vault” opened, again I said too much and he correctly deduced that I’d double booked myself earlier that week.

Slutty – Sorta (see Stockpiling)
Wrong – No

Up to this point, we’d never had any conversations about what’s up with us. There were no rules or expectations. We’ve both been open about seeing other people. Both he (evidence) and I (evidence) enjoyed the perks.

Regardless, last week things with the Producer stepped up. We hung out three times, he invited me to a wedding and I invited him to an out-of-town party. We were hitting a groove. Then in classic Downtown-Chic style, I committed self-sabotage and opened the vault.

Monday, I returned from Boston jazzed to see him. Instead, I got a phone call and was told, “there’s something we need to discuss.” He laid out that in Friday night's endless babbling, I had contridicted myself and he deduced that I'd double booked. This made him uncomfortable and he wanted us to slow things down. According to him this wasn't grounds for dismissal, but he felt we needed to rethink things. Then he benched me until Friday. Damn it!

Anyway, I’ve been in the dog house all week and don’t like it one bit. The good news is that The Producer has called and emailed me since the conversation. I’m hoping tomorrow when we meet for cocktails, things will be okay. Since this is followed by his cousin’s birthday dinner, I have to think that's a good sign. (Family Intro = Positive Sign, Yes?)

Always the optimist, I can’t help but feel this was a necessary step for us to discuss what’s up with us. Since Monday night we definitely bridged this previously unspeakable topic. I’m cleaning up my act. I wonder if this single gal can turn a good thing into a real thing.

Answering the age old question...

2006-09-01T14:30:00.000-04:00

Shopping for cheesy bachelorette party gifts, I picked up this magnet and plan on rigging the gift bag distribution cause I really want to put this magnet on my fridge.

Far Side Cartoon: "There's an egg and a chicken laying together in a bed the chicken is laying there with this big satisfied grin on its face, smoking a cigarette. The egg just laying there says, "For the record, I came first."

HA!

Yet again, I'm off to Boston. This weekend I'm hosting a bachelorette party. Debauchry to follow.

Overcoming a hangover

2006-08-30T10:53:00.000-04:00

Age increases pain, length, and symptoms.

In college I drank like a fish six nights a week and still made it to class... These days a couple bottles of wine has me nearly incapacitated the next day. My body aches, my head hurts, there is shooting pain behind my eye, waves of nausea. My hangovers used to lift around 3pm, then it was 4pm, now I find myself still dragging as late at 7pm. Nearing the edge of 30, not only are the hangovers worse, but it is less acceptable to call into work feigning sick. So I needed to upgrade my methods of coping.

(Yes, I probably should drink less, but that equates to less fun.)

For years, I've relied on a mix of the following four solutions to a hangover. They've been tested and are tried and true methods for coping:

1) Treat in morning w/ water and Advil liquid-gels (These work a crucial 18 minutes faster)
2) Treat at night w/ water and Advil liquid-gels
3) Lounge on couch watching TNT, sleeping intermittently
4) Fast greasy food

As I age, I find these four options are less and less successful at eliminating my pain. So I decided to try something new -- sweating it out at the gym.

I’ve always been incredible skeptical of “the gym” = “hangover relief”. Getting to the gym was torture; as I walking there I questioned my sanity. After 20 minutes on the elliptical, things began to change, my self-hatred to drinking too much the night before began to lift. There was a slight downturn around minute 30 when nausea set in. Around minute 36, as I was planning my escape route to the bathroom, the nausea lifted and I felt like a whole person, a person who didn’t drink 3.5 bottles of wine the evening before… I kept it up for 45 minutes – at which time I wimped out and stopped

This was hardly a back breaking workout; I covered half the ground of a my usualy workout, but I did it. And the next time I find myself with a hangover, I just might do it again.

Twice in 24 Hours

2006-08-29T21:14:00.000-04:00

This past weekend I had a wedding in Boston. My original plan was to stay in on Friday night and get up early to drive a rental car to Boston on Saturday. In reality, I ended up going out on Friday The Nudist and stayed up way too late.

With less than two hours of sleep, my alarm went off. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to stay in bed so badly. The Nudist and I were perhaps too comfortable at the moment and I knew a hangover was the worst excuse in the world to miss my friend’s wedding. So I left him in my bed and took a cab to Chinatown – catching the 8am bus.

I slept the entire way to Boston (with one small McD’s stop for an egg & cheese). I arrived in Boston – gnarly, half asleep and wearing jeans. Heading straight to the chapel for the 1pm service, I had no choice but to change in the bathroom of South Station. Brushing my teeth in the sink and applying a full face of makeup in a bus terminal is something I can live without replicating. At least I planned ahead and packed perfectly – unlike this trip to Boston

Anyway it was an absolutely beautiful wedding, following by the longest reception ever. At 1:30am, I’m totally wasted and exhausted. Ahead of my lay the prospect of sleeping on a hotel couch or a bus back to NYC.

Before I knew it I was back in South Station. The terminal at that time of night was actually less frightening than I expected. Soon enough I was on 2:30am Fung Wah bus. It was the best decision ever – I arrived in NYC at 5:30am and still managed to fit in six more hours of sleep in my NYC bed.

Love the Fung Wah!

Friends Who Share Everything??

2006-08-25T13:27:00.000-04:00

Last night over cocktails, a good friend who’s been keeping up on my dating shenanigans by way of my blog, mentioned that she’d like to meet The Nudist. Newly single, she’s ready to date again and after reading the profile I wrote for him, she thought as fellow artists - they would be a better fit than he and I.

Okay – this is an odd conversation to be having… At this point, the entire table has tuned into our conversation. Everyone had a suggestion for how one bridges the conversation with the guy.

-- “Make it seem like it is his idea to stop seeing you and start seeing her.”
-- “Tell him this weekend that you aren’t interested in him, but he should meet your friend”
-- “Plan a group outing where they can meet, so you can introduce them.”
-- “Set them up on a blind date, so you can’t interfere.”

Now wait, a second here… Why has everyone decided that my friend gets to meet this guy? At what point did I decide I wasn’t interested in him? What if I don’t feel like introducing them? Once I do, I’ll will not have the luxury of seeing him again because that would be weird. Two friends, one guy… I don’t share very well.

Her thoughts were that since I’m also seeing The Producer, I shouldn’t mind that they’ll be hanging out. I’m really not sure how I feel about this. There are things I like about The Nudist that I don’t like about The Producer. If I could mesh these two guys into one, I’d be the happiest gal on the LES.

So anyway, tonight I have tentative plans to hangout with The Nudist. We’ll see how much “liquid courage” I need to bridge this conversation. Who’s to say that he wouldn’t want to meet my friend… Maybe they would relate better to each other… Perhaps not introducing them is a greedy, selfish act on my part… She was really excited at the prospect of meeting him, I’d hate to disappoint her…

(Secretly, I hope he is still reading my blog, that way I can already consider this conversation over…)

Grounds for Dismissal

2006-08-23T18:44:00.000-04:00

Had my first fight with The Producer last weekend. While sharing a cab with a couple guys (one of whom is dating my friend) he and his 30-something friend were giving the young-one girl advice. Mid-conversation, he mentioned having bagged an 18-year-old over the summer.

Word traveled quickly, and I learned of his conquest right before my rooftop party. Sickened at the thought that this 30-year-old guy slept with a teenager, I spent the better part of the afternoon discussing with my gals that this immoral behavior was grounds for dismissal.

He arrived at my rooftop with a couple friends and I greeted him with a cool reception. Talking with him and his friends, I casually eluded to knowing about the 18-year-old. It was dark, but I caught him off guard. As the evening wore on, I made enough references to the 18-year-old that he asked if I wanted him to leave. I responded with what I’d been repeating to him all night - “Eighteen? That’s just sick.”

At this point, he had enough of me not listening to his attempts at explaining the situation, and he pulled me to the side of the roof and kept repeating himself until I finally started listening.

"I met her inside a bar in Avalon. She told me she was 24. She used a fake ID to get past the notoriously tough bouncers and the bartenders. I had not idea until after the fact and I’m hardly proud of it.”

Alright, so the “hardly proud of it” line was a bit much, considering that he had mentioned the experience in a car full of guys. That sounds like bragging to me. However, the rest of his story seemed truthful enough, I had to drop it.

In all honesty, it worked out nicely, cause we’ve agreed that I’ll get over the accidental-18-year-old if he gets over this guy.

---------
I'm using this as a reminder that learning about someone new is a very long process. So in that vein, I am keeping my options open. Last night I met The Nudist for post-work cocktails, which led into a game of pool at another bar and more cocktails, which led into another bar and a 2am kiss at my doorway.

A gal needs options – right?

Glutton for Punishment

2006-08-22T17:48:00.000-04:00

Things have been smooth in the boy department lately, so naturally it was time for me to commit emotional self-sabotage.

My ex is a groomsman in an upcoming wedding. Conveniently the couple created one of those darling “aren’t-you-happy-for-us” web sites to inform their family and friends of all their happy engaged moments. (Excuse me while I vomit.)

I was curious. If things are going well for me – what’s going on in his life? Scrolling through their photo albums, I was on edge. I just knew the next photo was going to be a shot of him with a fabulous new girlfriend. (Why am I putting myself through this anxiety?)

After six happy photo albums, nothing. No sign of a new girlfriend. Oddly, the whole process made me feel completely empty. Considering how heartbroken I was after we broke up, I can hardly believe that this was the guy…

It was quite cathartic, and I’m glad I snooped. I’ve never felt so far from my past and the disaster that was the relationship. I guess that’s what 365 days will bring you….

I've come a long way baby.... Read here chronicles of the whole messy breakup disaster:
Caught Man Fishing
I Miss You Abuse
Marriage Trainer

Against Drinking and Shopping

2006-08-21T14:16:00.000-04:00

WARNING: What you are about to read is a careless account of spending; under no circumstances should the following be attempted by an untrained professional.

On Sunday Avenue Elle and I met on the Upper West Side at the seemingly innocent hour of 4pm. Having spent the earlier part of the day shopping on the LES and Soho, I figured my desire to blow my paycheck on fall fashion was satiated. After hitting up a 70% off sale at La Di Da, I already owned

- Silver/Black sheer, tie collar shirt
- Black tank (to be worn under the above)
- Gold clutch purse
- Black clutch purse
- Lorac eye shadow

After a pitcher of mango margaritas, we decided window shopping on Columbus Avenue was a wise way to spend the few hours before Entourage. Once Avenue Elle fielded an unexpected call from Frenchie we were a dangerous mix of buzzed and giddy. The window shopping excursion morphed into a bank breaking outing. My three biggest purchases of the day…

- Red Trench Coat
- Plaid pencil skirt with high waist
- Blue Mini Sweater Dress

Oh the pain. Once the rent check clears, I’ll have $500 to my name for the next 10 days. It looks like I’ll be taking the bus to Boston this weekend.

Almost like living in a trailor park...

2006-08-18T11:53:00.000-04:00

There are certain expectations one has for their home. One of those is running water. Last night, after post-work pitchers of sangria at Park, followed by beers and cigs on the rooftop at the Delancey, I arrived home to find no running water. No warning, just a note which miraculously appeared on the front door between 8pm and 1am. At this point, I immediately regretted smoking all those cigs, cause there was no way to brush my teeth, or evade the looming hangover. (My usually evening remedy is 3 Advil chased with a tall pint of water).

This morning, I awoke at 5:30am to a splintering headache and swamp breath. Since the water was supposed to turn back on at 5am, half asleep I brushed my teeth and chased 3 Advil with a big glass of water.

At 8am after seeing the state of the brackish, rusted water coming from my pipes, I am waiting for the inevitable stomach cramps from drinking unclean water. I should have remembered to let the water run, flushing the pipes clean, but again it was dark - I was half asleep and I'm sure to completely regret it...

Want culture? Join a wine club

2006-08-17T16:41:00.000-04:00

Always needing an excuse to drink, I joined a wine club. Each month Discovery Wines delivers three bottles of red wine to my home. This is not about me being too lazy to walk to the wine store and chose my own wine. I have legitimate goals for this experiment in alcohol.

1) It would be nice to understand a wine list beyond - Melbec and Nero d’Avlo.

2) I’ve always wanted to amass a small wine collection. This will make me the ultimate impromptu hostess…

Partaking in this culture experiment, I face a unique set of dangers. I must remind myself that the purpose of this experiment is not to drinks all 3 bottles in one sitting. See lesson learned)

For August, I received three pinot noirs. All delicious, except for the two bad corks. (Okay, at least one bottle had a bad cork – the other bottle, it is highly probable that I was too tanked to open it correctly.)

Anyway, the silver lining is that after mentioning the bad corks to the wine store, they sent me home with two bottles atop the two I had just purchased.

Not to shabby… My collection is off to a magnificent start already.

For Your Information..

2006-08-16T11:33:00.000-04:00

I have been tagged by Karina XOXO to reveal my inner secrets, or weird things about myself. Since she’s my alter ego living in Australia, I have no choice but to oblige. Rather than revealing inner secrets (I'm still a little gun shy since being outed), I'll share 10 tid-bits of Downtown wierdness, which I prefer to re-classify as charming, unique and interesting bits:

All heels, all the time. Whether hoofing it through London or catching a 5am flight to Las Vegas, I’m always wearing heels. Always. Most people think this is because I have issue with being 5’3 (which is partially true). In actuality, all my clothing has been tailored to accommodate skyscraper heels. When I go without, the cuffs of my pants would bunch and drag on the ground. Not chic.
My mom was my 3rd grade teacher
I’ve dated identical twins
I should wear one contact lens. The vision in my right eye is terrible. I couldn’t pass the first two lines on the vision chart, but my opthamologist won’t prescribe one contact. She claims my left eye and brain adjust to the difference, which sounds slightly insane to me…
I’ve never ridden a horse. Although if asked straight out, I will say I have
My job contibutes to women’s self-esteem and body issues, yet I keep at it because I love my paycheck
When reading, I skim. Magazines, emails, blogs… Especially books. I’ll skim entire chapters. Example in Gone with the Wind the chapters discussing the historial significance of the Civil War and the battles being fought, never read them
I’ve never watched any of the Star Wars movies and don’t plan to
When driving, I listen to the radio on ‘scan’. How else can you ensure you don’t miss your favorite song playing on another station?
Unsure what order mouthwash, brushing and flossing should go in, I repeat the process

So there it is, all my quirks and eccentricities on display.

30

2006-08-15T13:43:00.000-04:00

I adore my girlfriends. I am incredibly lucky to have a network of fun-loving, well-traveled, down-to-earth, beautiful, altruistic, do-anything-for-you friends. But I’ve had enough of their obsessing about turning 30.

My friend, whose 28th birthday is next week, refused to plan a birthday get-together because she was too depressed about turning 30. That’s two years away -- What a terrible excuse to not throw a party!! And as she bemoans the loss of her youth, she forgets I turned 28 earlier this summer….

Another friend, affectionately dubbed “Cougar” recently turned 30. It is impossible to have a conversation with her when she doesn’t reference her age. Up until a couple weeks ago, she would only date older men who have marriage potential, or their “light on”. These were some real characters, none of whom (in my opinion) possessed any long-term potential, short of being over 30. Appropriately enough, she’s now seeing a 25-year-old, who is nicer to her than any of those criteria-meeting older men.

Someone recently mentioned to me that although our bodies go through the physical act of aging, our perception of our “self” doesn’t age as quickly. Which explains why ‘30 is the new 20’ or ‘40 is the new 30’…

Perhaps, next year I'll change my tune about 30, but right now, I'm looking forward to it. My new mantra is that late 20's and early 30's are the greatest years of your life.

Keys to the Vault

2006-08-11T15:41:00.000-04:00

Elaine: I'll put it in the vault.
Jerry: No good. Too many people know the combination.
Elaine: What combination?
Jerry: *mimes drinking schnapps*

Classic! During last night’s date with the Producer, three bottles of wine deep, the vault was open. My girlfriends have been prodding me to be honest with this guy. Tell him what I think and stop playing games. Filled with liquid courage I started talking and no one was there to stop me. I sputtered on about how I’m seeing fewer guys that I was when we first met, so he should stop making wise cracks about Mr. Wednesday and Mr. Tuesday… Then I mentioned it would be nice to see him more than once a week… I told him my friends think he is “pretty”… It was endless.

Shoot me now!

As for being outed. This is one of those times, it isn’t all about me. (I know – shocker.) Being gossiped about is never fun. Personally, I don’t care so much about being outed – because it’s my blog and I’m the one putting it out there. But I’ve been thinking, who’s to say that the boys I blog about feel the same way? Is it an invasion of someone’s privacy to share stories about them… So yea, I feel really bad about it, and I’ll be much more careful in the future to not disclose personal information. I need to protect my sources.

Outed

2006-08-09T13:11:00.000-04:00

Shame on you (yeah, you) for giving up a gal's anonymity.

Yeah, it was my fault for including personal details, and it was only a matter of time before someone recognized one of my posts, but please, what fun is blogging about the salacious details of my personal life if you are going to show your friend what I wrote about him.

He texted me this morning. Once I got over feel queasy, I'm now permanently blushing... I don't think I've ever been embarrassed.

Perhaps it is time to think up a couple entries that have less to do with boys and more to do with the other interests in my life... but what's the fun in that?!?!

NYC Guy Profile #5 - The Nudist

2006-08-07T15:00:00.000-04:00

Age: 33
Height: 5'9"
Build: Medium, Slim
Eyes: Blue Green
Hair: Blond
Profession: Computer Programmer
Residence: LES

Meeting Synopsis: At Friday happy hour I start talking to a friend-of-a-friend who lives on my street, just a block and a half away from my apartment and has the most shocking blue-green eyes I’ve ever seen. We quickly start connecting about our semi-hippie upbringings. Me:18 years in Vermont. Him:18 years with parents who grow pot. Then he drops the bomb “My family spent our summers at nudist camp.” (B-what??) After picking my jaw off the floor, we discuss his personal perspective on the experience. As the conversationg goes on, I slowly get hooked on his whole gentle soul thing. I start to apprecaite the hippie-esque mannerism (acceptance of others, calm reassuring manner) add to that his two cats named 'puppy' and 'barbeque' and I’m hooked.

Relationship Details: Per usual, when the bars close at 4am everyone heads back to my apartment. Around 5:30am people begin disappearing: one couple heads up to the roof to hook up, another dials a car service, and my roommate (god love her) passes out on the living room rug. The Nudist and I hook up on my couch ‘til about 6:30am when we decide my bed would be much more comfortable. Disclosure: We may have slept in the same space but we did not “sleep together”.

Next morning, we have brunch after which he insists we walk the long way home. We bum around the LES semi-window shopping/running errands for a couple hours. It was all so real. He walked me home around 4pm mentioning that he’d like to see me again. So sweet. We exchange numbers and go our separate ways.

Saturday evening, as I am serving pina coladas on my rooftop, I decide to extend an invite to him. Since the rooftop crew had just kicked the bottle of Dominican Rum, the Nudist and I agreed to meet at a bar between our respective houses. Since he was already at a friend’s birthday across town, he met me at the bar around 1am. Slowly my friends started petering out - seemed everyone had paid dearly for the night before. The Nudist and I hang at the bar until 2:45am, at which time we decide late night eats are in order. After introducing him to Dash Dogs, he asks to introduce me to his favorite bartender… Of course. Another drink later, we leave the bar. Convinently the bar is located beneath his apartment. At his place, I learn that the Nudist is also a sculpture artist. He has all these crazy contraptions and projects underway… Another night, with more sleeping in the same space without “sleeping together”.

Deal Breaker: None at the current moment. He’s been added to the current rotation. Since he lives on my street and is so cute about not pressuring me to sleep together, he has secured a spot in the rotation.

Previous NYC Guy Profiles
#1 - The Older Man
#2 – The Wedding Guest
#3 – But Aren’t You Gay Guy
#4 - The Skier

Don't Get Lost in the Game

2006-08-04T10:07:00.000-04:00

There are so many reasons that I adore Avenue Elle. Last night she did not disappoint. As we're partying it up for my friend's 30th, I find myself in a room with three flirtations (two of them notches on my bedpost). Avenue Elle turns to me with the most serious face and starts pointing at me and utters a phrase that pretty much summarizes my life for the month of July...

"Don't get lost in the game"

She is so right. This past month, I've been playing guys 2, 3 at a time... It sure has been fun. Along the way, I've come to realize that young guys (while fun) invest to heavily in the one-night stand.

Case and Point: Last night leaving the bar with Producer we walked past the architect. I didn't think much of it, but he made some snide remarks in the bar and was shooting the Producer nasty looks all night.

Second Point: My roommate hooked up with a Young Republican last weekend. Last night, as she went home with someone else, she recieves the following text: "fuck you...you could have at least been straight up with me before I wasted two hours of sleep."

Come on boys. Don't take it all so personally, this is a game... Your gotta play offense and well as defense. Don't forget defense.

Braless

2006-08-03T17:40:00.000-04:00

Alright, one final post about the heat.

I realized today that I have not worn a bra to the office in the past 10 working days. That's so inappropriate. Thank goodness for B cups, sundresses and a fairly liberal office space, cause I don't think I would have made it through this week.

Starbucks Loves Us

2006-08-02T18:08:00.000-04:00

Call me a hypocrite, but after my Independent Coffee Shop guy disappeared unexpectedly. (Rumor around the coffee shop was that he was fired.) Disillusioned, I started frequenting Starbucks. With the NYC heat wave (106 degrees today) I'm officially an iced coffee junky hooked on Starbuck's smack.

I'm quite particular about my iced coffee. Large iced coffee, with a splash of skim, a one packet of Splenda floating atop (not stirred in). I refuse to use that foolish Starbucks language to order my coffee...

My reward for making the switch from my independent Coffee Shop, is learning that tomorrow (August 3) Starbucks is giving away free iced coffee from 1-3pm.

You know where to find me tomorrow at that time.

Game. Set. Match.

2006-08-01T08:52:00.000-04:00

I'm pretty adept at playing the NYC singles game. I can line up a week's worth of dates, juggling their calls and emails, leading each guy to believe he is the only one. These guys are usually easily manipulated and I'm always the one with the upper hand, ensuring that I'm not overly invested. (Past case histories: the Cute Architect, the Secret Boy, Irish)

Well, I've just met my match. This new guy, Producer, is bad news. Bad news because he knows the game. Adding to the mess of playing against a formidable opponent is that I'm much too attracted to him to think clearly about my game plan. Damn, him!

After having met over the 4th of July weekend, we've been seeing each other regularly. He convinently lives in my neighborhood, so the morning walk of shame isn't that shameful. On days that we don't see each other he emails, texts or calls...

Last week, after our date night changed from Tuesday to Thursday, he began teasing me saying things like, "I've been upgraded to Thursday-night-guy, but I'm still not Sunday-night-guy."

Again we have plans for Thursday of this week. I can't believe it is only Tuesday. I already have a new dress. I've scheduled the bikini wax and have begun a crash diet of iced coffee, Pria bars and cigarettes...

Honestly, the real kicker is that he has boyfriend-potential. All those other guys were just "play things" to keep my social calendar filled. I can't believe I just wrote those words... Now, I've officially set myself up for a future post to be titled Producer 1 : Downtown 0.

Just to add a little spice to Thursday's encounter. It is the 30th birthday of the gal who introduced us. Unfortunately for me, there are going to be 2 other "play things" in attendance. Let the drama begin! I promise full-disclosure in Friday's post.

100 Degrees in NYC

2006-07-31T21:30:00.000-04:00

It is hot. So hot that when you wake up in the morning, thee last thing you want to do is get dressed. Why can't it be socially acceptable to just be bare on a day like today?

Further complicating matters is that I have a thing against air conditioning. I spend way too much time in the fall, winter and spring whining about how I can't wait for summer. The last thing I am going to do is turn on the AC once the temperature hits 80 degrees. Not me, not at my house. I refuse to miss a second of summertime.

However, my bullheadishness becomes a problem this one week of the year when temperatures hit 100 degrees in NYC. It is necessary to find relief somewhere however, and this weekend, I found it at KMart.

The Cooling Tower fan is not only aesthetically-pleasing. It is a better design that the classic table top fan. (Space is a serious issue in NYC.) With the baby blowing on oscillate, high... You'd hardly know it was a smidge above 80 degrees.

Bar Games - 6th Grade Style

2006-07-27T15:28:00.000-04:00

Hanging at Brass Monkey with my girl last week. We found ourselves on the way to being drunk, without really having that much fun. Absent mindedly, I am folding a napkin into this little "fortune teller" square game. I had no idea, I've stumbled upon the best bar game ever!

In no time, the bartender takes notice. Next thing I know, he is offering up suggestions and starts egging us on to get a little risque with our dares. Together the three of us come up with the following:

- Compliment someone
- Crank call from someone's cell
- Group Choice
- Pinch a stranger's tush
- Kiss someone
- Walk up to a random and pretend you know them
- Shot time
- Take a photo of a body part with someone's phone

There are almost no words for the amount of fun that was had. First one up. The bartender, he had to compliment someone - thankfully that someone was me. He liked the way my eyes matched my top. Then it was my friend's turn. She had to pretend she knew someone. By the time it was my turn to pinch someone's tush, all the folks around us were begging to go next.

It turned into quite a rambunxious evening... Who would have thought.

Although the game needs to end once eveyone memorizes what number goes with a particular dare. (You'd be surprised how ofter the kissing one is picked.)

DIRECTIONS

1. Square off a regular piece of paper by folding one corner of it over to the adjacent side so it makes a triangle, then cutting off the small rectangle of paper that remains outside the triangle.

2. Fold the two opposite ends of the triangle together to form a smaller triangle, then open the paper up. The paper now has diagonal creases from corner to corner.

3. Turn the paper so it looks like a diamond, then take each end of the diamond and fold it into the center. Once all four corners are folded in, your paper will have become a smaller square.

4. Flip your square over. Fold each corner in to the central point again. Now it's an even smaller square.

5. Fold your square in half, then unfold and fold in half the other direction.

6. Unfold and pull the four ends together, making a diamondlike shape. Pick up each of the four square flaps and put your fingers inside.

7. Now it's time to make the folded paper a fortune teller. Write on the outer four diamonds and the inner eight triangles, using colors and numbers for your friends to choose.

8. Last, write fun fortunes on the inside of the folds. Let the fortune telling begin!

Life on an Expense Account

2006-07-26T12:27:00.000-04:00

My favorite job perk is my expense account.

Anything I do work related - out comes the AmEx, I sign away, knowing full well in 2 weeks, the money will be reimbursed to me. Supplies, Hotel Rooms, Airfare, Dinners, Drinks... I rack it up each month like my AmEx is on fire. Meanwhile, each transaction bring me a bit closer to that flat screen, wall panel television I've been lusting after.

I could never work in a public service sector. How in the world do those folks get by without an expense account. (Do they really pay for everything themselves?)

The catch, when you get your expense check for $7,145 and your bill is over $9,000. Um, now I am paying for my sins and up to my neck in past expense reports. Trying to figure out what's been reimbursed, what I forgot to expense...

Where in the world is this magical $2,000 going to come from?

Obsession D'Jour

2006-07-25T15:11:00.000-04:00

I have an inclination to become obsessed with something, only to one day walk away as if it had never happened. Be it a favorite pair of jeans, Bikram Yoga, Tiny’s Tasty Happy Salad’s , or the cute architect. For days/weeks/months at a time, that one obsession is my favorite thing. Then one day as suddenly as it came on, it is gone…

My newest fascination is the Hummus Place on St. Mark’s Place (btw 1st and A). For months my roommate had been ordering from them and singing their praises. It wasn’t until I found myself with a lowly $5 for dinner that I decided to give the spot a try.

No one would suspect hummus to be so magnificent, but adding a hard boiled egg atop and I have enough protein to last me into next month. Avenue Elle is equally obsessed. We meet here at least once on each weekend. Last Saturday, we each dined on Hummus Foul, shared a bottle of red, some crazy gelatin-pink dessert and Turkish coffee. All for the heading price of $40. If we hadn’t ordered the wine, it would have been $20, leaving us plenty of money to spend at The Magician.

Stockpiling

2006-07-19T09:21:00.000-04:00

I love when an author's social commentary mirrors what I'm feeling at a particular moment. It is always a surprise when reading and a particular section of the book makes you glance over your shoulder wondering how long the author has been tailing your every move. My current read, The Quality of Life Report by Meghan Daum, is chaulk full of these. My favorite, which I read this morning after a walk-o-shame:

"Given the census data, the seven hundred thousand surplus of single women, two men in one week was less an act of sluttishness than of stockpiling."

There it is - my behavior for the past two weeks completely justified. Two weeks+Three guys = Stockpiling. I've obviously broken my streak (364 days) and am making up for lost time. It is only a matter of time before the seemingly endless oasis of single men evaporates, so I am enjoying it and blogging about it, so when it comes to an end I can remember there was a better time.

This whole scene is making me wonder what my number is. When I was in college I kept a list, that was until my boyfriend found it and read the name after his. (Teach you to read a gal journal!) I'm curious how many gents I'll be able to recall. Perhaps I'll test myself. If I can't recall them, it doesn't count right? This is going to require the assistance of my friends, I'll need to tap there memory to confirm any missing links....

Are the Fab 5 about to get flushed?

2006-07-07T14:25:00.000-04:00

It is highly possible that this dish, is not dish, but common knowledge. However, since I've been living under a rock these past few weeks. I am going to share what I know. Mid-project someone on my team who was trying to get a hold of the Queer Eye producers sends me this note:

Hi, Downtown Chic, here's the latest on "Queer Eye."

Finally reached someone in NYC office of Scout Productions - she said that many staffers are already gone as they are wrapping up the show's season - I asked for just anyone to speak with. She said to call the exec producer who works out of LA. I said but it's an NYC opportunity - ok, fine...

Called the LA number and person answering the phone at Scout Productions said he doesn't know if the executive producer works in that office anymore - I said fine - anyone in production will do. He said he couldn't locate anyone to transfer my call to as everyone was gone for the hiatus period.

I said fine - perhaps there is a story opp. for when they return - he said he's not sure they are coming back. I said whaddya mean - they may not be renewed? He said yes - they may not be renewed.

Two week MIA -- It had better be good.

2006-07-06T22:01:00.000-04:00

My eligibility for the born-again virgin club was revoked this weekend.

The scene: Avalon, NJ at a daytime, keg/pool party. I’m in a hot tub with the ladies chatting about everything and everyone. In walk two cute boys, when conversation in the tub stops. (Did someone turn the hot tub heater on?) Thankfully, I was one of the few single gals, so as the married-folk start talking about how their men have packed on pounds since their wedding date. I jump out of the hot tub ready to introduce myself.

I read adjust my bikini, give my hair a good shake, then wrap a towel round my waist as I “walk-by” to the keg. Yup, caught their eye. After filling my beer and laughing at the keg longer and louder that probably necessary (see how fun I am?) After a couple sips of “confidence-juice” I sit down next to them and start making small talk. Completely casual….

Talking, talking, talking, I learn all about him. Blah, Blah, Blah… I am 32 ... Blah, Blah, Blah… I live in Philly. Blah, Blah, Blah… I run a bike shop… Blah, Blah, Blah.. Single... Blah, Blah, Blah…

The afternoon drunk fest breaks up around 11 PM as we all head into town for more drinking. Dancing gets a little crazy, a little crude... In my inebriated state, I sneak off with Bike Shop Boy and make out in a dark corner. We leave the bar early to beat all the other houseguests back. (In a house crammed with 25+ people, privacy is a luxury not often afforded.)

Things are going well, tame but well, as everyone arrives home. I mention that the beach is a couple blocks away. We headed to the beach and .... talked. No joke for like ever!

Honestly, I had given up on the whole thing and we started headed back to the house when we paused of a mini-makeout, which... well turned into a "Let's return to the beach". It was all quite unspecatcular. It happened right near the lifeguard chair. The whole time I'm thinking -- this is so 90210.

Now I get to and now I get to take off my "Pity-me-I-haven't-slept-with-anyone-in-a-year" party hat and get back into the game.

Guest Editorial -- A Short Story

2006-06-27T18:15:00.000-04:00

Since I have no creativity this week... I am posting a true tale from my world traveling friend.

"How to Get Bucked Off and Kicked By A Horse and Live to Tell About It"
- a short story -

We were outside Santiago, on the grand Lake Atitlan, resting between two dormant volcanoes. The ranch belonged to two eccentric expats, Nancy and Jim, who lived there since the Guatemalan Civil War. That's when I met Rosa.

Rosa seemed a bit skittish from the start to be perfectly honest. While my boyfriend and Pancho seemed to hit it off instantly, Rosa had an uncalm nature to her. After a few brief instructions, we head off down the road, in great anticipation of the cloud forests and amazing vistas that we would soon encounter.

About three minutes later, the dogs showed up. Rosa didn't like them. They growled at her, jumped at her, and nipped at her face. She became visibly upset, and turned around, as though to head back towards the ranch. At this point I was uneasy but not entirely concerned. Then she started what can only be called a gallop back in the direction of the ranch, at which point I got nervous and probably started shrieking a bit. The dogs caught up to her and came at her from the front again, at which point she did a full-on rodeo buck with her back legs, veered to the left, and then bucked up on her back legs, sending me flying into a pile of logs. For a nanosecond I lay there with my eyes closed, feeling the impact all over my body but realizing that I was still alive. That's when I felt a cloven hoof kick into my ankle, and heard what can only be called stampeding around my head, which quickly brought me to my senses: " Holy shit I am laying beneath a horse going ape shit." By the time I pulled myself up Rosa was in a full-tilt gallop back towards the ranch, clearly glad to be rid of me.

Now bear in mind: My boyfriend had to watch this entire episode from his horse, helpless. I almost feel worse for him.

Almost, but for the back spasms, softball-sized shiner on my leg (complete with broken skin from the hoof), and overall soreness that feels as though I´ve been in about three car accidents.

Luckily, you don't need a prescription for Valium here :)

No Subject Required

2006-06-21T12:08:00.000-04:00

Last time I met up with Nice Guy Finish Last, he gave me a hard time cause I never actually reveal anything about myself on my blog. Fittingly enough, my first personal revelation might be something that he can relate to.

In thirteen days, July 4th to be exact. It will be 365 days this last time I've slept with someone. I don't think I've experienced this type of dry spell since I was fifteen. Honestly, I can't! There was a time of my life when I was having so much sex, men practically overlapped. (Alright they did, just don't tell my ex'es.)

Today however, my obsession crossed the line when I saw pregnant woman and was struck with extreme jealousy because she is obviously having more sex than me.

Problem #1
The guy that I've been hanging out is incredibly a-sexual, shy or gay. Of all the time we've spent together (4 months) we've probably hit third base (if you regress to high-school make out terminology) once. ONCE! Obviously, this needs to end. He is distracting me from my end goal.

Problem #2
Somewhere along this lonely road I decided I need to actually like the person. Whatever happened to college, when being drunk was enough to sleep with someone. At what point did I flip the switch to needing to care about someone. This train of thought is royally screwing me right now (poor choice of words, cause nothing is screwing me at this moment.)

Problem #3
I have a date on Friday and all I'm thinking about is what amount of time is reasonable before we'd decided to sleep together. Come on! I'm starting to talk and sound like a guy!

In an effort to remind myself that I once had a very active, fulfilling sex life, I took a purity quiz. The kicker is that my existance in a sexless vacuum has raised my purity score. I've gone from a solid 22% in college to 24% sexually pure.

Hopefully, my weekend at the Jersey Shore over the 4th of July weekend will provide a few options. However, I'm thinking I should begin filling my application to become President of the "born-again virgin club." I'd be a shoe in....

If you see something, say something

2006-06-20T08:18:00.000-04:00

Living in NYC, we are constantly barraged with public service announcements, subway ads, newscasters, government officials reminding us: If you see something [suspicious], say something. But sometimes life in New York is so uncanny it is hard to determine suspicious from normal.

Consider this:

About 6-7 weeks back I turned the corner from Delancy to Allen St walking north. A car traveling in the direction of traffic exiting the Williamsburg Bridge also turns the corner and pulls over in front of me. The driver hops out, walks to the trunk, pops it open and out jump two men. Two fully dressed, non-descript, fully-grown men. These men then start walking in opposite directions on the street as if nothing unusual happened.

Suspicious or just uncanny?

Tan Lines

2006-06-19T20:12:00.000-04:00

You'd think I'd have learned by now the benefit of sunscreen while at the beach. But no, each year it is the same painful lesson. Too much sun, not enough sunscreen.

My first day at my Fire Island beach house was a semi-wash. Overcast and cloudy, I spent the day entertaining myself with bike rides around the island, card games and a six-pack of Corona. Sunday I was up at 9am to make the most of the available sun time. In my beach chair, I worshiped the sun for six straight hours. (Judging from my burn today, that was about one hour too long.) YOUCH!

Highlights from the weekend:

So quite unexpectedly, hanging out on the strip of bars on Ocean Beach I ran into a casual acquaintance. Now this gentleman has a girlfriend (protective alias: Sue). When we ran into each other he was with another girl (dirty ho name: Britney). It was so obvious by the way Britney was hanging on him that they were more than just "housemates". Tsk-tsk-tsk... I would never tell Sue about her boyfriend's coniving ways, but I am not above resorting to bribary. He owes me a beer or two.
I operated a grill for the first time. And from the reviews I received, I can cook a hamburger patties and hot dogs pretty darn well. To think for years, I've been asknig guys to do the grilling, cause well, I always figured it was a guy-thing to do. Next time I am going to fire up the grill and show off my skill with the open-range.
While talking to some guy at the bar, he asks me: "So do you ski?" To which I responded, "Of course, I was born in Vermont!" Judging from his blank stare, we were not about to go into a greater discussion of downhill or cross-country skiing...
Playing wingman for your girl who really needs to forget about a crap-ass week and shitty ex-boy can actually be fun.

Quick update: The Cute Architect Boy

2006-06-15T11:15:00.000-04:00

Working in communications has drawbacks, one of them being that when a mysterious number pops up on my cell phone, 80% of the time I answer it. Is it a reporter? client? spokesdoctor? As much as I love my cell phone, sometimes I can do without. Except for on a night like last night...

Could hardly believe it last night when a mysterious phone number popped up. On answering, I nearly toppled over. Cute architect boy from my birthday called... I thought for sure that my drunken antics were al little too much for his mid-west self. But I guess all went better that night than I remembered.

We had a great conversation (almost an hour!) recapping the night's events. During which he refreshed my memory that he walked me home from the bar to make sure all was well. Anyway, since I'm out of town this weekend we made plans to have lunch next Friday. I can hardly believe that he called.

Oh the keg delivery guy just buzzed, I need to lug the empty canister downstairs to return it. Good times needed to end.

Fickle Am I

2006-06-12T18:29:00.000-04:00

Fickle \ fi-kel \ adj : not firm or steadfast in disposition or character : inconsistent

Every time I hold one of those red cellophane Fortune-telling Chinese fish in my hand, it flips right over declaring me – fickle. Every time I hold the fish, it is the same thing. Fickle.

Saturday night, my birthday party, a raging success on all accounts. The turnout for the rooftop kegger was quite remarkable. The perfect mix of people attended; coupled with sweet views of Manhattan, free- flowing liquor, moonlight and the perfect ipod mix. So perfect, that at 2am, I was over it. People were still hanging out, but my fickle self wanted out.

So I left my own birthday party.

Headed downstairs with the full intent of ending up at 151. On the way, I noticed what used to be my favorite “healthy burrito” joint, whose closing I lamented to no end, had been replaced with a chic bar. My fickle self forget the promises I had made the staff about boycotting the new place, as spoke to the doorman and stepped through the door. My fickle self indulged in vodka tonics and shots from the ice luge.

Then my fickle drunk self decided that the cute architect boy I had just met was better than the guy I had been seeing for the last few weeks. So I told the guy I’ve been seeing that he was too drunk, I think he should go home. He balked and didn’t want to leave, but I insisted. He eventually left, but not after cluing into the fact that I was sending him home so I could hit on some other guy.

So now, my fickle self is hanging with the cute architect. We decide to meet up with other friends at the Back Room. The thing about the Back Room is that it is one of those old speakeasy bars, with a hidden room behind the bookcase. The private space is frustratingly difficult to get into. My roommate and I have befriended nearly every bouncer in the place to try to get behind the bookcase.

Now at this point, things are really fuzzy. All I know is I made into the Back Room of the Back Room with some guy who was not the Cute Architect boy. Not sure at what part of the evening I ditched him, or who I was behind the bookcase with, or how I got home, or how I ended up with a stress fracture in my foot.

But I know one thing, that fortune-telling Chinese fish is right, I am incredibly fickle.

Doing my part -- An Inconvenient Truth

2006-06-09T16:03:00.000-04:00

'm proud to say, I have made the world a better place.

My 5th grade my science project discussed the declining habitat of Florida's manatees. Each student who stopped by my project and learned about the environmental and man-made threats affecting the manatee, received a -- get this -- "Save the Manatee" button. For a short while, these were the "it" accessory of my catholic school.

It was only a matter of time before the environmentalists jumped on board and everyone was sporting a "Save the Manatees" pin or bumper sticker. Well, twenty one years later those buttons made a difference. Today the manatee was pulled off the endangered species list.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060609/ap_on_sc/threatened_manatees

Former Vice-President Al Gore would be proud. Just five short days after watching his movie, I'm already making a difference. Now to start recycling.