pencil you in

Why am I suddenly wishing the days were longer?!

• Last night: Dinner at Circo, Paul Taylor Opening Night
• Tonight: FlavorPill party at Rose Center - Museum of Natural History
• Tomorrow: St. Patricks Day in Hoboken (all day.. eek)
• Tuesday: Beastie Boys concert (will be missed) trumped by Paul Taylor Gala at Cipriani
• Wednesday: Rep dinner TBD, cousin visiting from SC
• Thursday: Dinner and Chicago on Broadway with George
• Friday: The Hives and The Donnas at Terminal 5

dropping the glass slipper

Columbia, SC has an unofficial quip, or slogan if you will. "Keep it classy, Columbia". Growing up in South Carolina, as in almost any place, you find many facets of class and wealth. The impoverished trailer park (or "project", if you live above the Mason-Dixon) is a far cry from the cobblestone streets of Rainbow Row and Park Avenue pent houses. In addition to this fiscal separation, lies an almost greater expanse between social classes. For an ignorantly blissful moment of my life, I toyed with the idea of social class being something I read about in Charles Dickens' novels. For years, the highly romanticized theme of the "poor boy falling in love with the rich girl" has taken a multitude of authors and directors to the bank. I hate to burst your bubble, but social stratification still exists. And it goes beyond the constraints of "upper", "middle" and "lower"! Now before you start to think I'm a Marxist, let me elaborate.

When it comes to relationships, "Meeting the parents" is as much of an initiation as a white-gloved girl at a Debutante Ball. Don't go dropping the glass slipper, Prince Charming - but she's judging you. It's all a test. Makes me think that India has the right idea with arranged marriage. It saves a hell of a lot of time and effort. Trust me, your parents know best! They know EXACTLY what social strata you fall into the moment you're born. They know the amount of involvement you need/deserve in political, social, and educational environments. And YES, this extends to sex, love and marriage.

Don't stray too far from what you are told you need. It quickly becomes survival of the fittest.

My advice to you? Don't be blind to your own intuition. The shallow people of this world find it a nearly impossible feat to hide. You may find that someone you care about isn't the person you thought they were. Gasp! This is not abnormal. We are all enrolled in Bullshit 101 from the time we are taken from the hospital, midwife, clinic. Embrace your predetermined class and attain your BS. If you succeed, you might move up a bracket or two. Do this on your own, and not with the help of a puddle looking for a trophy. I would rather be my money than new money, new money than old money, and none of the above if it adversely affects my happiness. God forbid you find yourself with a person whose class (or personal views on class) do not match your own.

Should that situation arise.. my real advice is to immediately swipe your Metro Card back home.

the world is a vampire

I've been saving this picture for a long time, trying to decide what to do with it. I love it. When I look at it, I see encompassing emotion. All my life, I've struggled to convey emotion or even formulate thoughts regarding it. I envy those who can. As I mature, I try to better understand who I am and rationalize why I am that way.

You must understand yourself to know exactly who you are. One of my dear friends warned me not to lose sight of myself. My wish for you all, is that you never let another person, or power, swallow you up. This life is a power-struggle. And if you have no power over yourself, you will quickly succumb to the control of others and their more eminent desire for the power you so willingly relinquish.

As for the picture...

I'm not sure what my beautiful baby sister was so upset about when the anonymous photographer stole this moment.. but I hope he is miserable - whoever he is.

secrets

"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation." -- Oscar Wilde



to feel:

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

Zzzzzzzzz

This weekend was a blurry smudge. I worked all day Friday on a presentation for our client in LA and it ended up getting moved to later this week. Naturally, it was drizzly/snowy out when I escaped the office at 5:45p. I made it to LIC, showered, made myself presentable, and ran downstairs to the car service (thank you, Z) - only 15 minutes behind. Traffic was tragic but I finally made it to the West side and into the small, 20-something-table restaurant that is Po'. Joining Z, his Aunt & Uncle, college friend & cf's girlfriend, we sipped bottles of Pinot Noir and talked about - relationships mostly...I'm just remembering that. Doppio espresso - coat check - farewell and many thanks to A&U - back to Z's apartment.

He has a fabulous hookah with blackberry tabacco. CF made us vodka tonics and we aptly decided Patron shots might start our evening off right. We ventured down the four flights and poured ourselves into the first cab that took us to one of my favorite lounge/clubs - Room Service. I love it for its drumming house music and fabulous VIP areas with enveloping curtains and the hotel-like amenities of a snack drawer, mini bar, and chocolate covered strawberries. DJ AM was performing, and that's really why we were there. Tiny bottles of UpShot (energy drink) overflowed from decorative bowls along the bar, and we took a few for fun. Something, something, something - and the night closed its arms around us.

Z and I maintened a lazy Saturday and I had my hair chopped off on Sunday. I love my new bangs and blond(er) locks! We went to the Rangers game last night, followed by the Oscars (thank God for DVR) and I was invited to see Eric Clapton perform at the Garden tonight. But to be honest with you, I'm just too tired.

be mine

Wintry mix, my ass. It's been snowing for 7 straight hours. I was walking across the street and got tunnel vision on a matchey matchey couple with dark hair and common faces. Keep in mind, I was walking, across the street, towards them - and observing. They were saying their goodbyes on the corner and she held and kissed his hand. Then they embraced, kissed, and she pulled him back towards her. At this point, she whipped out a tube of chapstick and proceeded to paint it across his lips. I wasn't sure whether to smile, laugh, or throw up. Was this an act of affection or possession? It's interesting how often the two become confused.

burning cold

It was so cold this morning that my nose didn't even have time to feel the chill - it just froze numb immediately. It crept down to my top lip and became one with my nose. I purposely walked to work in the sunny spots of the street. It didn't seem to help at first and I wondered who was stealing the warmth from the ground. By the time I reached the small park, I had worked myself up to a reasonable body temperature and my forehead was actually hot. It reminded me of the summer days we spent at Edisto beach, weary from drinking the night before. Trudging the short distance from our beach front house to the sand. The sand that was too hot to touch with our bare feet. We talked about prom and school and told jokes that were funny to us at the time. Those were the things that were important to us. I miss the time when the most we had to worry about was whether or not our parents would let us stay an extra day.

nails for breakfast, tacks for snacks

You don't generally see large people in the city. The pace isn't accomodating and I imagine the train turnstyles grip onto their pudgy folds like a rotisserie chicken. The overweight man I watched on the train this morning wore a gray RocaWear jacket and the lines around his eyes looked about a half century deep. The coffee he propped atop his knee seemed unusually miniature in comparison and I didn't notice the delicately wrapped tin foil package he held for at least a minute or so. Tufts of tousled gray hair grew sparsely, but outnumbered the mousy brown that once was.

I have never seen a man so carefully attend to a ham and cheese croissant. Resting on the generic coffee cup, I watched as his knubby fingers unfolded each silver corner with the precision of a Bloomingdale's gift wrapper. The bright orange cheese spread thin and stringy as he pulled the two halves apart. He moved slowly as if in anticipation. For a second, I thought he really might make love to that breakfast. I was not at all disappointed to miss "the first bite" as the train slowed to a stop at Times Square.

a bedtime story

He started out as the guy she casually ran into at the $2 bourbon bar. She was brilliantly amused by his quick wit and charm. This much they had in common immediately. In a social setting, there was no arguing that they fed off of each other's energy - in a mutually beneficial manner. There was no competitive edge, aside from the delightful dimples their faces shared. "We really should go out together more often", she said. He agreed.

They were drawn together by an addiction. An addiction to a lifestyle, and each other. It spiraled into an intricate web of relationships and expectations. They spent an unhealthy amount of time together - to the point where he awoke on her mind, and was the last to be in her presence.

The night she woke up calling his name, they both knew they were in too deep. As most addictions go, the culmination reaches its peak. The breaking point is hardly a simple event. Goodbye, lust? Infatuation? Love? You are a vague memory in a plume of purple haze.

sweet is...

sugar cookie crumbs in bed
stolen kisses with warm lips in the freezing cold
sharing an ipod and earbuds on the subway
waiting for someone and finding their face in a crowd
an inside joke
a petty debate
trying new things
sharing old tricks
and red velvet cupcakes from magnolia bakery

mystery man

I saw the tall man with dark hair this morning. I swear he comes out of nowhere - I guess we're both typically late for work. Or maybe he is supposed to be there at 10. Maybe he works in retail.

Oh God no.

only available in NY and CA

the deal is: if you're a rep, bring our team Pinkberry (mmmmazing organic frozen yogurt with toppings ranging from fruity pebbles, to raspberries, to kiwi, chesnuts) and you will automatically be put on the plan. teehee, this almost makes staying at work until 7:30pm on a friday night, worth it.

i can't believe you're single!

I haven't talked about any freaky New York dates lately. There just haven't been any recent disasters, (thank GOD) - so in their absence, I'm going back into the vault. They can only be about people I'm POSITIVE won't read this blog (OBV) ...

The-Financial-Consultant-who-lives-alone-on-the-UES-forevvvvvvvvvvver: I now know why. This guy was nice enough, but not very considerate. We met after work and since he knew I was fresh meat in the city, he took me to Central Park. (even though I told him I'd already been) I was wearing heels. We were walking, extensively, through the park, and I was in heels. Does this paint a picture for you? The original plan was to go to The Boathouse for dinner. When we finally got down there (blisters already), we realized it was closed for a wedding rehearsal. (Big surprise - it's THE BOATHOUSE, YOU IDIOT!) Oh you didn't bother to call and check? Reservation maybe? Riiiiiiight. So we hike back up to a restaurant called Park Avenue Summer. It changes according to the season. (the menu, entire restaurant decor, etc) Okay wait, rewind. I forgot that he was dragging out the helatious evening as much as feasibly possible. First we stopped in some hotel bar (it was cute, but I don't even remember the name because I was in so much pain from my shoes) and munched on nuts, kalmata olives and vodka tonics. Okay fast forward - finally at the restaurant. I'm pretty much OVER trying to be charming and charismatic. And since I'm already in a foul mood, I also feel the need to order things off the menu that I'm sure I won't like. For example, I ordered soft shell crab as my entree. Don't ask. It was awful. I was very grateful when it was finally over and completely dodged the request for a second date a few days later. (via email, mind you)

The moral of the story is, don't wear high heels in Central Park, and if the guy sucks, get sloshed at dinner to assure he doesn't request round 2.

friday morning at mindshare

MEAGAN'S HUNG!!!! and nobody wants to be here.

And the Oscar goes to...

I try not to talk a lot about political .. anything. It doesn't necessarily fit my personal description of "entertainment". However, the Democratic debate this past Thursday - held in LA's Kodak Theater - proved to be cinematically disturbing. This election is so monumental and at times, a bit much for "little ol me" (as someone so endearingly states) to digest. I'm personally sick and tired of being heckled on the street corners by the copious amount of Obama/Clinton advocates. That's another story. As I was saying about the theatrical debate...

You might compare the interaction between Senators Barack Obama and Hillary Rodham Clinton to that of a flirtatious encounter between the team captains of opposing high school debate teams. Toothy smiles and stolen glances were exchanged. At one point, Obama bent down to whisper niceities in Hill's ear. What is going on here?! Forgive me for my lack of appreciation for their compassion. But this is the gladiator arena. Save the fake-as-wedding-cake B.S. for post competition - or not at all. I didn't see Coach Tom Coughlin blowing kisses to Bill Belichick across the field (GO GIANTS) on Sunday night. I mean come on people. Give me a little American Dream here.

I wouldn't mind seeing a Democrat in the White House - don't get me wrong. But this display of competition is weak. On the other side, the Republicans were much more tooth & nail at Wednesday night's debate. Let it be known that nothing scares me more than the thought of Masshole Mitt Romney becoming president. (who - let me note - has withdrawn millions from his personal bank account - thus greatly outspending his rivals) Sighs.

At this point, I've become quite fond of Mrs. Clinton - who said of the Republican candidates: "They are more of the same. Neither of us, by looking at us, is more of the same - we will change our country". That is music to my ears.

ad geek

guerilla marketing at its best - fashion ave, nyc - it says DKNY.COM

goodbye stranger

I was trekking the frigid five minutes to the subway the other morning, bouncing to the beat of my iPod - just minding my own. I was behind a tall man with dark hair. Before I realized it, I was following him. Now this isn't terribly strange, since there are about 6 high-rises on the water, near my building - and between the hours of 7 and 10, it's like a mass exodus to the train. Everyone is following someone.

There are three or four different paths you can take to get to the health-coffin that is the NYC subway, and something I've noticed in my commute is that people actually follow each other. It's like a pack of dogs. Manhattan is a little different. There are stoplights and walk/don't walk signs and you are sort of funneled down a predetermined path. But where there is no organization, the people try to create their own.

I saw the same handsome man the following morning. Now this really is chance. You almost never see the same person here twice. He dresses nicely. I fantasize about what he does for a living - maybe in publishing, or an architect. I had to follow him. His step was quick and stride was long - luckily so is mine. When we got to the train, I watched as he swiped his Metro card and was subsequently denied. The train was coming and there was no delaying - this would be our departure. I swipe my monthly unlimited card. Denied. I only have to replace this card once a month, strange. There are two new-card dispensing machines in the station. As I stood at the one next to him, I wondered if he recognized me or had seen me, or thought this was really coincidental and/or if I was a crazy person. I lost him in the crowded car and saw him re-emerge when we stepped onto 42nd St - Times Square. Up the escalator - he's quick - but I still have my eye on him. Up up up, and he takes the stairs to the 1,2,3 downtown. For the rest of my walk to work, I can't help but wonder where he's going. I also wonder if anyone is watching me.

life blurb

So I was almost finished with a really great description of a rep dinner we had the other night, and realized it was completely brutal and the truth of the matter is, it's wildly irresponsible to rant about anything associated with your job in a public forum. Here's my recent life in a nutshell:

I was at work until 10PM on Monday night. Had a dinner at BLT Prime with MTV on Tuesday, which led to drinks at some BBQ place and ultimately champagne at Flute. Another dinner at Da Tomasso on the UWS on Wednesday. 2 happy hours (both of which I opted out on) last night and instead ventured out to the Bowery Hotel for DailyCandy.com's "Sweetest Things" party. The space was enchanting, drinks could have been better, and overall it was a nice time. I fell in love with a set of twins and their ability to create the most magnificant jewelry I've ever seen:

http://www.lizziefortunatojewels.com/

I am sort of in the beginning phases of obsession and will keep you posted.

Tonight I was told we're going to take it easy, but I find that hard to believe for a Friday night. A friend of mine (from USC) will be in NYC tonight and we are going to try and meet up. As for the remainder of the weekend, superbowl party (go giants). And I can't seem to stay away from Greenwich Village. What's that all about?