death by gin

I'm not having a very good morning. I could feel the scowl on my face the entire walk to work but for some reason couldn't remove it. The train was incredibly slow and I will probably be at work until ten again tonight. But all is not lost.

I sat across from an Asian man on the subway. He had very small hands. I watched as he flipped through a short stack of photographs. I didn't think much of it until he placed them in a respectively small white envelope with about seventeen foreign stamps on the back. For some reason this made me smile. He looked like he missed someone.

mother father

MY MOM IS COMING TO VISIT ME! She booked her flight sometime last week - on a whim. She arrives in 13 days and will stay until February 12th. I have very little time to squeeze the pulp from my sweet 6 months here thus far and build the itinerary for an amazing NYC weekend. Lindsay (my sister in Boston) will be coming down while she's here. Madelaine (the youngest of the three of us) has her classes at USC and she and my incredible father will be taking a rain check.

I CAN'T WAIT!



mamacita- karen



bambino #1 - lindel

xoxo

One of my girlfriends here is quite a trip. The sort that gets manis and pedis on Sundays and Wednesdays (thank you Mickey Avalon) and keeps her roots as blonde as can be. She has a contagious laugh that can be heard all across the office and is very va-va-voom. Her quintessential boyfriend sends her a dozen perfect roses every few weeks and keeps her fingers dipped in Yurman. She goes tanning in Jamaica (and at her Shore house) and has a serious shoe fetish. Lucky for her, she wears a size 10 shoe - and the benefit in this, is they almost always have your size. We like to "Britney Blast" at work when it gets close to 4 o'clock - to help us get to the end of the day. And sometimes, we even bring out Miley Cyrus before breakfast. Perez has become our mutually close friend and when I glance over the 4 foot cube wall that separates the two of us, I almost get the feeling that we're having an LC/Whitney moment from an episode of The Hills. It would be quite a challenge to get through the workday without several people I can think of off the top of my head - Megs, Brit-Brit and Perez: ex oh ex oh. Teehee!

i didn't write this

this was written by an acquaintance of mine. a wildly entertaining socialiate lion-tamer and documentary artist. in my ignorance, i was unaware his talents extended past photography. but they do, and i am very impressed. i'm positively mad about "thick-as-your-head-gravy". enjoy. :)

"Here in NYC we have Biscuits, Chicken parm, Steaks as-big-as-your-head, Bratwurst matched with real german lager, Cornbread, Mashed potatoes with thick as-your-head-gravy, BBQ ribs (Carolina/Texas style), Spring rolls, REAL chinese food, Cucumber sandwiches, Pizza till 5am, Chicken Cordon Bleu, Shit loads of Seafood, Grilled cheese with tomato, Spicy fries with cranberry ketchup, Hot-wings with ranch, Chicken tikka masala you can order from a taxi cab window, Somali food that you eat with your hands and shots of Gazpacho you purchase with your lips. I'd love to live in another city that offers so much variety in food! ...and served as late as New York does!"

the rain is different there

I could barely see tonight. It reminds me of that salt lady, “when it rains it pours”. Well, usually it just rains. But today it poured. I felt like I was trudging through the downpour, and I could even feel my calves hurting. But in reality, my car tires were doing all the work.

Today when I got up, I decided it was going to be a great day for my rain-boots. But typical me, I changed my mind. For some reason, this monsoon weather was just too much for my cute, puddle-happy wellies. Sometimes I don’t understand myself. Or maybe I just don’t understand my way of thinking in the early mornings. Early morning thinking is always skewed.

It you sit there and listen to the rain, you can tell what kind of mood it’s in. I think it’s angry right now. It hammers down on my roof as if I discarded it there as an outcast. The wind adds a little something to it. Like a whistle, it blows until it turns into an eerie howl. I can hear its voice straining and getting tired. Slowly, she calms down to a drummer’s beat. I think I could take a small river boat out in the streets right about now, but I’ll wait to see what happens. From my bedroom window, I can see things flowing into the gutters. Debris and cigarette butts litter the streets and float along more rushed than they would prefer.

Finally, she calms to a few sprinkles. It seems like the water rushing off the roof is stronger than the water falling from the sky. Then all of a sudden, silence.

a few things you might not care to know about me

• i've been bitten by a squirrel - twice.
• my two sisters and i were home-schooled from 1st-8th grade
• growing up, my mom read us charles dickens novels
• i took piano lessons for 8 years and i'm not sure if i remember how to play
• i have a permanent piece of pencil lead stuck in my left knee
• my kindergarten teacher told me to stop reading the words ahead of the class and guess the pictures
• did i mention i was home-schooled most of my life?
• i sang at my grandfather's funeral
• one of my ultimate goals is to be on the cover of ad age
• i failed psychology 101, my freshman year at USC
• i started going to class 2nd semester freshman year at USC
• when i was a child, i made up bedtime stories for my little sisters - i creatively called it "storytime"
• for some reason - my stories were always about poor people
• watching hot air balloons from my bedroom window in Boise, Idaho was my favorite
• ask me sometime about a really great oxymoron poem i've memorized
• my hometown in South Carolina = population 3,000
• we live next door to the mayor
• one time he caught us throwing a party while my parents were out of town
• and he didn't tell
• and that's the truth.

sleeping lessons

What a facade my lofty expectations have been all this time. I need, I want, I like. The brilliant plumes decorating my fantasy life and spoken desires are most simply an illusion to mask my inner fears. Fear that I am a dependent in this world. I am screaming for freedom from this curse - but repeatedly catch myself before the release. Why? Dependency is best friends with vulnerability. You can't have my emotions - they are locked up deep and dark within the cold cavern that is the physical being we all are. The dust we come from will turn to dust again, and the little time we have on this earth fights heroically against the ground that wants us back. This grim grip of reality results in my own self-appreciation and indulgence. Be beautiful, be young, be famous, be rich. Materialism is simple. Emotional involvement is not. At what point do you let go? When you wake up and realize that the culmination of everything you've been searching for lies in a lonely collection of Fendi bags on your closet floor? Maybe. Or maybe (before it's too late) you stop vainly searching for glossy new Louis' that don't exist - draw the line for emotional bliss, and embrace it. I am quite sure I'm evolving into someone with a backbone. And to me, this is very good news. The Shins say it best..."eviscerate your fragile frame, and spill it out in the ragged floor".

January 19th

I'm sick of seeing people make out on the subway. That shit is gross. Maybe it would be different if they were semi-attractive. But no. I'm talking about ugly people tongue-sucking while they wait for the train. Get a room. Get me a room.

I just got the sudden urge for Pita Pit. I think there's one here in Union Square. Certainly not venturing outside in 20 degree weather to battle the elements at 2AM. Why is it that the thing I miss most about SC is the food? That says a lot about me. Besides, I might have to watch some subway people making out against the grimy pillars in Grand Central.

We had a nice brunch this morn -...mm...-noon. Egg-white omelette that came with a small balsamic vinaigrette salad and french fries. Oh and three mimosas. Not on our own accord. The life-loving Jamaican who seats/serves/runs (maybe cooks?) there wouldn't have it any other way.

News Flash: Northern people aren't assholes! Someone send a telegram to the South - quick!

Could Greenwich Village be replacing my lust for the UES? Hm. On that note...

this is not a joke

It's Friday and it's a long weekend! I'm in a great mood - and this is hilarious:

http://sfbay.craigslist.org/stp/530731516.html

i found an old blog of mine

I was standing at a fork in the road - so to speak. I wrote it around this time last year - before my job interview, or any concrete plans in NY came to be. Oh the desperation of it all.

"It sucks falling for someone. It sucks when you put your heart on the line and let someone take a jab at it with whatever weapon they see most fit. It's easier to be single. It's easier to be emotionally unattached to someone and have casual friendships and relationships throughout life. But what does that say for a person in the end? Not much. It means that person can't have anything substantial in their life. It means they prefer to be a hollow box. I left someone close to me and I thought our relationship was strong. I thought we had an unbreakable bond. I realize now that what we had was a false reality. I'm okay with that. I have moved on and I've developed new friendships. I like to think they are real. I'd like to think these people have concrete attachments to me. But who really knows? Now I'm at the point where I've found someone else to form an emotional attachment to. Why is it: that time and place are so essential in life? I'm graduating in a few short months and the person I've found is as well. We have feelings for each other right now, but what is the point in acting on them? This is turning into more of a Q&A session than a journal entry, but no mind. I have questions and I need answers. I want to know why God sends people into your life at the point when you are ready to be sent out into the real world. I want to know why its so hard to meet someone you really are interested in, and when you finally do, they're going to be taken away from you again. If I move to New York City after graduation, I won't see this person again. I will miss South Carolina, no matter what I say. It has a special place in my heart - and as adventurous and spontaneous as I may seem, my heart of hearts knows I will cry the days away at first. At this point, I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going anymore. My lips are numb from the Burt's Bee's Chap Stick I used an hour ago and my nose is stopped up from the NyQuill I took last night that didn't help much at all. My room is semi-clean because I thought I was having company, but plans changed. My head is on backwards because I have so much to do right now I feel suffocated. My financial situation isn't much better. I guess going back to an earlier journal entry; we can all say that when it rains, it pours. This is turning into a sob fest and I'm not entirely pleased with that. I'm usually an optimistic person with big dreams and high hopes. I hope my future is everything I ever wanted it to be. These last few months are decisive. It's all I can do at this point to keep my head above the water. My muscles are angry tired from treading."

cheat sheet

My friend and I were talking today about what I look for in my McDreamy - and I didn't have a set list off the top of my head. I surprised myself. For someone who (for the most part) knows exactly what they want out of life, I have let myself down. Here we go.

• he must challenge me (I did know this one, right away)
• i love change and he should be open to it
• make me laugh - hard
• be just as ambitious as i am
• send me flowers when i least expect it (I know this isn't necessary but I never get them and the premise behind this one is thoughtfulness)
• he must be artsy or at least have a real appreciation for it
• love sports and play sports (shouldn't be hard to find)
• wine connoisseur
• knows how to dance (in a club and at a wedding)
  
• speaks a foreign language
• be capable of an intellectually stimulating conversation
• there are two types of people in this world (no, not Clemson and Carolina fans): ones who think NYC is "a nice place to visit - but just not for me" AND ones who eat, sleep, breathe, and understand this city
  
• only the latter need apply

The Great Molasses Flood of 1919

It doesn't make much sense to have a blog about New York and be talking about Boston - but I'm visiting my sister (Lindsay) here until tomorrow morning and I found myself pondering why they call this place "Beantown"...

Back in colonial days, a favorite Boston food was beans baked in molasses for several hours. Back then, Boston was sort of awash in molasses - it was part of the "triangular trade" in which slaves in the Caribbean grew sugar cane to be shipped to Boston to be made into rum to be sent to West Africa to buy more slaves to send to the West Indies. Even after the end of this practice, Boston continued as a big rum producing city - until the Great Molasses Flood of 1919 (which killed 21), occurred when a tank holding molasses for rum production exploded.

Today, Boston baked beans are something of a rarity - there are no companies in the city making it and only a few restaurants serve it.

Well, that settles it. I'm finding a restaurant that serves BBB by the end of the day. Any product that results in a Molasses flood has got to be worth hunting, finding, and trying.

Now we just have to get through the snow that started last night and hasn't stopped since...

me first and the gimmie gimmes

Who makes it in this world? You'd think it was the ambitious ones. Is it the ones who take the stairs two-at-a-time, or those freaks who stick to the left side of the moving escalator and walk up it? ...making all us normal people feel like a bunch of lazy tourists. I mean is it necessary for the escalator to have two lanes? Let's be real here.

What about the people who get up from their seat on the subway (while it's moving of course) and make their way to the closed doors (we're still moving folks)... What's their deal? There they are - nose virtually pressed against those greasy doors (that look like they might fall off any day now), ready to jump out of the gates like they're escaping hell's fire and fury. I can see the bubble beside their head, "Come on, come on. The friggin' train is stopped. I'm standing right here. No one - *side glance to the left* oh no yah don't gramps - get back - I said NO one is getting out of this subway before me." Open the door. BAM they're off.

They're the same ones who walk up the escalator.

Now you might be wondering if I've ever done this. I sure seem to know a lot about it. Meh, well maybe one day you'll see me in the subway. Make your own observations.

I'm wondering about these people though. Does this little extra "oomph" in their everyday commute transfer to their everyday lives...relationships...jobs? Maybe that's how you tell the ambitious ones from the "meh, this subway isn't so bad - I don't mind riding it foreeeeeeeeeever" ones. Maybe those are the people who will be signing your paycheck one day and riding to work in a shiny, black towncar.

Or maybe those people just really have to pee.

gossip girl

I may have missed last night's episode of Gossip Girl, but I still got to watch some UES socialites. Plans change quickly sometimes. After I left work, an acquaintance of mine sent a text inviting me to the Dominique Cohen jewelry store opening - 65th and Madison, across from Valentino. Among the short guest list of 50 or so, swanky upper-east-siders was the co-host Gillian Hearst Simonds (of publishing giant, Hearst). Impressive.

I've been thrown into a lot of brilliantly diverse environments with equally diverse classes of people here in NY. The VIP lounge of a dark, pounding night club with about 30 Soprano-esque Italians who LOVE to party - hey where's Vito? A Latino dance club over-looking the river, with incredible music and oh can they dance. Then of course, we have the intimate loft party with a buffet of ethnicity's and accents (see a few posts back). However, I must admit, I had been looking forward with great anticipation to catch a glimpse of the snobby socialite scene that is portrayed on one of my favorite shows - Gossip Girl.

The store is by far, the most luminous corner on Madison Avenue tonight. Coat check, velvet ropes, chitter chatter, snapping photographers. Dominique Cohen creates beautiful designs with the most intricately delicate patterns. Draping gold necklaces adorn the headless decolletage in suffocatingly small glass display cases. We brush past an almost-beautiful redhead who is more slender than my left pinkie and 6 feet tall because of her patent leather bootie/pumps. She is surrounded by five or six well dressed admirerers. Our eyes meet, and she smiles with an intensity that seems to stem from curiosity or blow - or both. I'm later told that she is a diamond dealer heiress and has graced Page Six with her addictions. How should I know?

Similar to wild animals in their natural habitat, you wouldn't want to get too close - because they look crazy and who knows what might happen. Okay not really. I was complimented on my Tory boots by a short lady in a short dress. There was a cool-as-a-cucumber DJ spinning in the back near the bar. Yummy waiters - in all black - slid in and out of the crowd with hor'dourves. And then I saw him...

Slender like a model. A young Johnny Depp with a baby face. Thick, black rimmed eye-glasses and a shy smile. We locked eyes and I immediately told him he was the cutest thing I'd ever seen. (I was a drink or two in at this point and it was acceptable) He grinned, looked down, and I took an artichoke tart from the tray he presented me. Yes, he was a waiter. I was intriguied by no other for the remainder of the evening. Of course he kept moving, but he came back. We passed eachother, and smiled. He winked. I tried not to stare and pathetically scan the room every five minutes to find him. I would take this man over a Park Avenue Prince any day.

The party is ending and I become frantic. I have nothing. No card, no pen, no time to store a number in my cell. Talk about being unprepared. I tug on the waiter nearest me. "The man with the glasses, is he gay or straight?". I can't even believe the words that are coming out of my mouth. Is that even the question we are supposed to ask first? What about single or taken? I have no idea what I'm doing. He smiles kindly and tells me he is straight - and taken. Damn damn damn. There is no point in pursuing. We take our coats, our gift bags (which contain a scented candle, custom Dominique Cohen black bowtie earrings, and two chocolates), and leave. I can't stop wondering if the other waiter knew exactly which "man in the glasses" I was referring to. *sighs*

We go across the street to a small French restaurant called Paris Match and have dinner with my friend's friend - who is a fashion designer. We have hummus, and sushi, and french fries (I'm wondering the same thing now). At the end of the night, I hop into a cab .. accidentally leaving my DC gift bag .. and McDreamy .. on Madison Avenue.

no thanks

I turned down an invitation for "a drink" tonight.

Because the truth is I would rather get off work, stop by Trader Joe's to do some grocery shopping, make dinner for myself, go to the gym, and watch the juicy new Gossip Girl - in my PJ's - alone. What is wrong with me?! I want the rewards and I don't want to do any of the work. I would rather just automatically have some boy sitting in my living room when I get home. So you're telling me I actually have to find him?

PostScript - there is almost nothing better than getting through your day, guilt-free - knowing you've made every smart eating decision there is. And this Berry Fulfilling Jamba Juice is just amazing.

come pick me up

**DISCLAIMER** My writing is therapeutic for me and my goal is to provide a (slightly biased) perspective into the world in which I live. This includes the good, the bad and the ugly (to be completely cliche). So, if I sound bitchy and boastful - please know this is not my intention. Or stop reading.

Other than that - business as usual. If you haven't tried any of the Amy's Organic food products, you should. I'm heating up her fabulous black bean burrito at this very moment before heading downstairs to the gym. I have my usual hot date with Oprah at 7. Ahh working out - because you never know when you might get invited to the Grammy's (was asked this past weekend), or some crackhead wants to fly you to Miami. (more than once) I mean you just.never.know. Before you get the slightest wrong impression, let me assure you I am NOT bragging about this - nor am I taking up on either of these offers. The crackhead is - well, a crackhead. (figuratively speaking) And the Grammy guy is well - just too old for me. *sighs* However, I thought this was one of the most amusing attempts I've had thus far:

*The following is a text conversation with a man whose intent was to invite me out to the table he had with some friends at a club in meatpacking*

HIM
ME

"Oh come on everybody expecting U"
"Haha nobody knows me there"
"The owners and the press asked me about U. I told them U were a Southern socialite-beauty who just moved to NYC"
"Haha I bet!"
"I'm telling U, they're all asking. Tonight come. I'll send U car service."
"Haha doesn't matter...im not anyone famous...and if i drink alcohol i will just die."

Needless to say, I didn't go. I'm sorry - he just lost me after "Southern socialite-beauty"...

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

good news for people who love bad news

all that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost.

-- j.r.r. tolkien

Sometimes I feel like I'm on an extended vaca in NY. Oh I'll be going back eventually. No. When people up here ask me (and almost everyday someone does) "do you like it here" and "will you ever go back"? I tell them in the most exasperated tone that I simply love it and that the only other places I would consider moving beyond New York would be San Fran, San Diego, or Europe. Everyday is such a plethora of experiences and explosion of sensory pleasures, that anything less would surely result in death by boredom.

My roommate, Gabor had his family (father, mother, brother, brother's girlfriend) visiting NY these past couple weeks for the holidays. They're from Hungary. Well, Camilla the girlfriend is from Poland. His mom doesn't speak English. So that was interesting enough to have to have everything translated. His brother and his brother's gf don't know eachother's first language so they oddly enough speak their second language (English) to eachother only. It was Camilla's first time in the States. She really liked it. As we were sitting in our living room watching MTV's super stupid "Super Sweet Sixteen" - Camilla tells me these shows are blasted across Europe and that she (along with everyone else) is under the impression that THIS is what American teens are like. She was completely surprised when she actually got here and found out that wasn't the case. She asked me if I had a Sweet 16 party like the ones on this show. I laughed out loud and told her no. I was in shock. No wonder so many people despise us. We are the superpower here and hold an immense responsibility in this world. Why is everyone so disillusioned? Sad to say, the media is responsible for the majority of this misrepresentation.

But you have to ask yourself...how far off is the media from the truth? We have deserted our once industrial society and traded it for a consuming one. A society dependent on services. It's all about us. What can you do to make my life more comfortable, flamboyant, sexy, fun? Work ethic out the window - let's depend on our rich Daddy's who work in the Pharma companies to throw us parties worthy of MTV. But oh, there's no real-life reward in that - is there, little girl? Depressed much? Good thing your Daddy is working hard to pump out a multitude of shiny new pills each year. I saw the saddest thing on TV a few days ago.

More drugs for people on drugs. That's right. NatureMade has come out with a new line of products called RX Essentials. Their product line ranges in everything from Arthritis, to Heartburn, to - that's right - depression. It's simple really - some of those perscription drugs you're on right now, remove natural vitamins and nutrients from your body. WHAT?!
Therefore...you need this:

http://www.naturemade.com/ProductDatabase/prd_prod.asp?tab=Products&section=2&productid=200

Ahhhk what's with all my venting lately?

I've become sublimely aware.

Heeey! You suck, let's date!

I've recently discovered that I only attract psychopaths and gay men!!! Let's get this out on the table first, I am not complaining about the gay men part. For the most part, I get along with everyone and some of my close friends happen to be gay. But after a year or two of being single, you have ask yourself, "Do I look like a drag queen?". . .

And then there's the crazies. The straight men:

I mean do I SCREAM, "HEY ALL YOU CRAZY WEIRDOS WITH THE QUIRKY TENDENCIES THAT DRIVE ME CRAZY, YOU WANNA ASK ME OUT? OH YOU DO? PERFECT! IT'S EVEN BETTER THAT WE MET IN A SKETCHY CLUB WHERE MY BLOND HAIR AND PAINFUL WHITE-GIRL DANCING GOT YOUR ATTENTION. DINNER YOU SAY? OH GREAT. LET'S GET HALFWAY THROUGH THE APPETIZER BEFORE I REALIZE HOW INCOMPATIBLE WE REALLY ARE AND HAVE TO GULP DOWN A FEW MARTINIS TO GET THROUGH THE REST OF THE EVENING - AT WHICH POINT, I WILL NOT CALL YOU AGAIN SO PLEASE DON'T GET WASTED ON THE WEEKENDS AND DRUNK DIAL ME A MILLION TIMES."

*After this blog, I'm sure that I won't have anymore bad dates to complain about - as I probably won't be asked out on any*

Ahhhhhhkkkkk...but you know what? This is dating. I mean this is it. True Life: I'm 23 years old, single, and dating frogs. I'm running out of steam here and I'm only 6 months into dating here in NYC and I feel like I've seen it all. Two financial consultants, a few Europeans, toss in a couple models and actors (come on, it's NY), and a even a "my new haircut" or so...and still nothing substantial. Poor Carrie - I feel her pain.

And then I look at my friends who are in serious relationships. What a joke. Half of them aren't even really happy. So I have to ask myself? What am I REALLY trying to accomplish here? Am I hopelessly scouring the streets, bars, ice skating rinks (yes I've met one there too) for a McDreamy who doesn't exist - just to get STUCK in one of those dead relationships my so-called "happy" friends are in?

Sighs....okay I think I'm done now. My post-work-out energy is finally fading. I should really stop watching WE's "Platinum Weddings". . . stupid crap.

Annnnnd we're off

O-eight is here and my New Year's resolution is to start eating eggs and find a man. Claudia (my roomie) and I spent 1/1 sleeping in with the most accomodating overcast weather outside. We made it as far as the LIC diner to drink black coffee and tall OJ with granola/yogurt and - of course - egg white omlettes. I miss my grits, but I feel much healthier with this breakfast spread.

I missed my flight back to SC - it was the shuttle bus' fault, not my own. After being put on a connecting flight to Charlottesville (I'm still not even sure what state that is), I made it to Charlotte much later than anticipated. My entire family met up in Charleston at my Mema's house on Christmas Day. Mom threw an amazing dinner party the next night with Grand Marnier/Champagne punch and we all sang Karaoke until we decided to meet up with Mikail and Callie in Aiken. The Holly House. My friend from high school, Colin went with us. The next few days were a blur of hibernation, Planet Earth (my Dad's Christmas gift and one of my favorites), and Christmas leftovers.

My flight home was an all-day affair. Awake at 7 - pack - Madelaine drove me to Charlotte (2 hours) and my flight was delayed an hour. Wait wait wait. Finally on board - cat naps - landed - dragged huge luggage to the shuttle bus from the airport to the subway. At that point, our shuttle bus got hit by a car - and the car "ran". UGHHHH. We waited on another bus to arrive (way overcrowded) and we get to the subway. 7 train is having repairs on the Manhattan-bound side. It took me 3 hours to get home - at which point I made myself a vodka/Dr. Pepper (all I could find in the apt) and sat on my roofeck, staring at the skyline. Fast asleep at 8:30PM.

New Years Eve was spent at Lotus. My friend Val was throwing 12 NYE parties around the city - and he was beyond stressed. He gave Claudia and I tickets to the Lotus and Maritime Hotel parties. Wild wild wild.

The holidays are hectic - I'm sort of glad to be back in the swing of things...I miss my family though - xo