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Showing posts with label 2008. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2008. Show all posts

12/24/2008

Traveling Music

Today, I got up early without hitting snooze once. Why? Because I’m getting ready to board a bird headed south for the holidays!

I don’t think I’ve ever spent Christmas in 80 degree weather, so I’m totally psyched, but since my idea of Santa isn’t a fat old dude in Bermuda shorts, I may need a little musical inspiration as the mercury rises.

As such, I give you my favorite Christmas songs, guaranteed to put the spirit in your holiday:

Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) – U2
No other version will do. Sing it to me, Bono. I’ll come home to you any day – and twice on Christmas!

Mele Kalikimaka – Jimmy Buffet
If it’s good enough for Clark W. Griswold, it’s good enough for me.

Christmas Eve/Sarajevo – Trans-Siberian Orchestra
I don’t know why they call it this instead of Carol of the Bells. But I like it anyway. Nice and loud.

Baby It’s Cold Outside – Margaret Whiting and Johnny Mercer
It’s cold outside is as good an excuse as any other to fool around. Maybe just a half a drink more…

All I Want for Christmas Is You – Mariah Carey
You are dead inside if you don’t like this song. It’s that simple.

Honorable mention goes to Dominick the Donkey, the Italian Christmas donkey. Apparently the singer, Lou Monte, began his illustrious career serenading the ladies with Pepino the Italian Mouse. Sensing a trend? Chingedy-ching (hee-haw, hee-haw).

Buon Natale -- Merry Christmas!

12/22/2008

Over the Hills

Tonight was the season finale of The Hills on MTV. Now, I don’t watch The Hills (yes I do), but if I did (and I do), I would tell you that I don’t know why I tune in season after hideously painful season (that one’s actually true, I really have no clue).

There’s a part of me that absolutely hates to be left out of any pop culture phenomenon, and let’s face it, for better or worse, The Hills is one -- as was its predecessor, Laguna Beach. And even if you don’t watch (like me), you can’t help but stumble across the dozen or so semi-celebrities that the shows have spawned over the years (the most useless by FAR being Justin Bobby -- trust me).

So whether you’re a casual observer or true student of The Hills, you’ve probably heard that Heidi & Spencer -- barfingly known as Speidi -- have recently tied the knot. Or have they?

Here’s my list of 5 things that are more real than their marriage:
1. Velveeta
2. Unicorns
3. Blue carnations
4. Pleather
5. Bernie Madoff’s $50 B ponzi scheme

One thing’s for certain -- The Hills are alive with the sound of fakeness. Now here’s a truth: I’d REALLY like to make a clean break from this show. I think I get dumber each time I watch. Yet, if left to my own devices, I fear I’ll tune in AGAIN when it comes back for season 5 in the spring. And I ask you, if I watched Newport Harbor (which I did -- don't judge), is there ANY doubt I’ll get sucked into the spin-off vortex that is The City, and – God help me – Bromance?

This is serious. I’m 35.

My last remaining brain cells are screaming for help. Is there a support group I can join? A 12-step recovery program? Should I go all biblical and just poke my eyes out? Please stage an intervention below.

12/20/2008

No Scents

I have perfume on the brain.

This past week at work, we were asked to test a bunch of perfumes for a story. Of course, I missed the actual meeting where the selections were made, so I got stuck with a stinker. But it started me thinking: I really can NEVER find a fragrance I can live with, let alone, love.

Generally, I try something in the store, and I think it’s good. Then I get it home, and it mixes with me and I hate it. Or it gives me a headache. Or I hate it AND it gives me a headache.

I wasn’t always so fragrantly-challenged. Years ago I went through bottles of Eternity and Banana Republic’s Classic like they were water. Which, I guess they essentially are. But you know what I mean.

I dream of the day I can find a signature scent. Something I can smell and say, “That’s me!” To this end, I have DKNY's Be Delicious and Michael Kors, two perfectly good perfumes purchased earlier this year, that are now collecting dust on a shelf in my closet. Apparently, they were not up to the task -- once they got to know me.

I really don’t know (or care) what a top note is, and I can’t tell a tuberose from a tomato, so my quest is less about the ingredients (though musk = skunk), and more about finding something clean and fresh-smelling. Well, I thought I liked clean until I smelled one perfume actually called Clean and hated it.

I should be more specific in the future, I want to smell clean, not like Mr. Clean.

Today, I spent a leisurely afternoon Christmas shopping on 5th Ave when I came upon Sephora. I was drawn like a moth to a flame. I’m really not a huge makeup person -- a little blush, mascara and lip gloss and I’m good to go -- but I AM a girl, and this is like, Makeup Mecca. So, I went in. I’m only human.

Determined to play Beat the Nose, I made a bee-line to the Smell Wall (not to be confused with the smelly wall, which was just around the corner on 49th). I was prepared to power through every single scent my colleagues liked, and come out with a winner. I grabbed a handful of white paper test strips, then sprayed and spritzed my way down the aisle. And honestly, after the first three, I’m pretty sure I lost my ability to smell entirely. It was a full-fledged olfactory shut down. A proboscis paralysis. But at that point, I had two sales girls circling me like crows, and I looked like a crazy lady with all the scent strips poking out of my hands so I HAD to plow ahead. Until one critical point, when I accidentally sprayed some rogue scent in my mouth, because the nozzle was facing the wrong way.

I can now officially confirm that perfume tastes far worse than it smells.

Anyway, maybe it was the blinding store lights, or maybe it was the brain damage I most certainly have sustained after sucking down a serving of perfume soup, but I wound up buying two bottles: Marc Jacobs’ Daisy, in part because a card next to the display told me it was their #2 best-seller (and also because I really liked the bottle), and Donna Karan’s Cashmere Mist, mainly because I didn’t want to put all my eggs in Daisy’s basket (and this one wasn’t that expensive).

I can just picture you on the edge of your seat, waiting to see which one doesn’t make me barf. You’ll have to stay tuned...

In the meantime, if all else fails, I heard Burger King came out with a fragrance that smells just like a flame-broiled Whopper. This could be effective in luring stray dogs, and drunk/stoned guys home. Once they invent one called Cheesesteak, I’m totally in.

So, do you have a signature fragrance? (And if you do, mind if I steal it??)

12/17/2008

Picture This

I’m sure you NEVER have downtime at work. Ever. Especially as the Suits take off to sun themselves in St. Barts and leave the little people (elves?) behind to wrap up the fun-filled year that was 2008.

But on the rare occasion that you do, you really need to play around with these sites...


MISTLETOE MAKEOVER
Call me a narcissist, but I love putting my face on things. Enter Sephora’s Mistletoe Makeover. It should be called Hoochie Holiday. Upload your photo into 4 (kinda freaky) looks -- Santa’s Little Temptress, Merry Berry, Smokey Sugar Plum, and O Tannen Babe -- then let the merriment begin. If you like your makeup good and cake-y, you can even buy the look! And then wear it. In the dark.

PHO-HO-HOTO BOOTH
Not nearly as animated, but almost more fun is the Pho-ho-hoto Booth from Union Studio. I don’t even know what to make of this. It’s like Glamour Shots for the criminally insane. Take a trip back to 1980 and get your stockings stuffed with bedazzled sweaters and permed mullets. I liked this one because if you knew me in the 8th grade, you'd know I occasionally rocked the side ponytail. And if you’ve yet to get your holiday cards out, this may be your best bet. Your friends will think you are cheap and twisted as a candy cane, but funny.


ELF YOURSELF
Of course, this list wouldn’t be complete without OfficeMax’s famous Elf Yourself that caused a flurry last year. It's back and better than ever. Faster than you can say “Midgets Scare Me,” your inner elf takes center-stage in a Disco, Charleston, Classic, or Country music video and dances better than you do. Honestly, seeing my giant head bounce around really never gets old.


I could do this ALL day (but I won’t, Pam, I promise!).

Anybody have other sites I should be checking out during totally non-working hours??

12/14/2008

25 Reasons It's Swell to Be Single for the Holidays

Ah, the holidays! For many singletons, it’s that special time of year when your geeky co-workers start to look pretty good, and your exes somehow find themselves on the wrong end of a late-night phone call (after three too many Santa-tinis). But that’s not me. Really!

Truth is, I’d rather be alone than be with someone I’m not interested in. And until I’m a tragic spinster with fourteen cats, I’ll continue thinking that way.

Besides, flying solo definitely has its perks -- especially at the holidays. Here’s 25 reasons that might have YOU wishing you were single too:

1. You don’t have to argue in the cab on the way home about him hitting on an elf
2. Nobody will snore in your ear while you’re trying to have a silent night
3. No sense getting your candy canes in a twist over who’s family to spend the holidays with
4. No need to smile and pretend to like the present his mom gave you
5. You don’t have to go to his holiday party and make small talk with his boss, Senor Halitosis
6. Don’t believe the hype, flannel pajamas and cotton undies are all the rage
7. You don’t have to shave (assuming you enjoy being called Chewbacca Claus)
8. Nobody drinks the last of the egg nog and puts the empty container back in the fridge
9. Your DVR can be full of awful Lifetime holiday movies and no one will erase them
10. No one will yell at you for taking your laptop on Christmas vacation
11. Snow falls from the sky, not from his scalp (‘tis the season for the flakes that don’t melt)
12. You don’t have to dress up in matching reindeer sweaters for your annual holiday card
13. You can eat an entire tray of Christmas cookies and no one will judge
14. You can poke all the assorted chocolates and put the ones you don’t like back in the box
15. You can sing Christmas songs off-key and nobody will throw M&Ms at your head
16. You can be naughty and no one will care but Santa
17. No unnecessary “ornaments,” like stinky socks and dirty boxers, hanging around the house
18. The toilet seat is always where you want it (this is a gift that keeps on giving all year long)
19. No scruff to make your face as red as Rudolph’s nose
20. Snuggling is overrated, having all the blankets to yourself on a cold winter’s night is priceless
21. Two empty stockings = twice the presents
22. You can take the money you would have spent on his gifts and spend it on booze
23. No painful trips through the nutcracker, aka when are you two FINALLY getting married?
24. No fear of broadcasting on Facebook that you’ve moved to Splitsville, Population: You
25. Think of the money you’ll save on mistletoe!

Season’s greetings!

(See anything I missed? List it below!)

12/11/2008

The Tipping Point

Tonight when I got home from work, all soggy from the rain, I noticed someone slipped a holiday card under my door. Was it a secret admirer? No. A friendly neighbor? Nah. It was from my building. On the surface, a nice gesture, but when I opened it and saw that it listed a cast of thousands (ok, 15), I quickly realized this was a handy checklist for tipping.

Well, fa la la la la.

I guess a little holiday green can spread cheer for a year. But figuring out how much to give is harder than figuring out what’s in your fruitcake.

Even though I haven’t lived in an apartment building for a while, I’ve always parked in garages here in the city, which means I’ve always struggled with what to offer at the holidays. Each year, I briefly entertained the thought of driving in one crisp December morning with a car full of home-baked goodies, immediately followed by visions of sugarplums being ground into my carpet.

Cash, it turns out, tastes better than cookies.

I really wish someone would just come up with universal tipping rules, like we have at restaurants! There, I know the minimum is 15%, and I usually give 20%. I could say it’s because I know the waitstaff works hard (and they do), and they’re underpaid (and they are), but really it’s because it’s FAR easier for me to move the decimal point one place and double it than it is to calculate any other percentage in my head.

Once you step outside the restaurant world, I feel like tipping is the Wild West. So that brings me back to that tipping checklist… er, I mean, Very Thoughtful Holiday Card. There really are 15 guys listed, and I know they ALL make my life easier in some way. But I don’t want to over-give because I can’t afford to dole out the ducats to everybody with a hand. And I don’t want to under-give either -- I’m no Scrooge!

I do tip as I go throughout the year -- $5 here, $10 there -- but I feel this need (guilt?) to do something extra for the holidays, even in a recession. Especially for the doormen. In my experience, doormen are like elephants, they never forget. And I sort of prefer that mine (all 4 of them) actually open the door for me instead of slamming it in my face. The front desk guys are pretty good too. They’ve yet to let any axe murderers upstairs, and I’d really like to keep it that way.

So WWSD (What Would Santa Do)?

I’ll take your tips on tipping below…

12/09/2008

5 Reasons Gossip Girl May Be the Greatest Show of All Time

When it comes to TV, it's no secret that I have the tastes of a 14 year old girl. Sue me.

So, it should come as no surprise that my DVR is well-acquainted with the CW. I never miss Privileged, the new 90210, or the network’s crown jewel, Gossip Girl.

Last night’s episode -- nay, masterpiece -- was riveting. I don’t think I blinked for an hour. And I’m not the only one swooning over GG -- NY Magazine writes the most delicious weekly recaps and officially declared it the Best. Show. Ever. Truer words have never been spoken.

If you’re not watching this show, you really should be. All the cool kids are doing it. Here’s why:

1. Blair Waldorf & Chuck Bass. I could watch Queen Bee and the Basshole spar forever. Even after their teary, vulnerable moments last night, I hope they never get together. Their angry chemistry leaps off the screen, and they always have the smartest, juiciest, meanest lines on the show. Why ruin all that venom-y goodness with love?

2. Dorota. How can you not adore this pie-faced house frau? She’s at her best when she’s trailing behind Miss Blair, doing all her dirty work. Dorota’s devotion runs deep -- she even joined Facebook! This tireless woman needs her own spin-off. I’d love to get a glimpse at the inner workings of the Waldorf mansion.

3. Spotted: Serena van der Woodsen’s boobs. Lately, they’ve become their own character (characters?). She can’t even put them away at a funeral! I’m certain that any minute, one is going to fall out of her grossly age-inappropriate tops. Do you really want to miss that?

4. Dan “I carried the garment bag” Humphrey. He’s awkward and angsty. Just like a teenager should be. And he’s a chip off the old block. Who can resist when his dad, Rufus, gets all Lincoln Hawk in his rose-embroidered black shirt? He’s awkward and aged. Just like a washed up rocker should be. The van der Woodsen women have cast quite a spell on those melancholy Humphries!

5. Limos and labels and liquor – oh my! Who doesn’t want to look inside the scandalous lives of Manhattan’s elite? I know I do. Maybe I’ll learn a few tricks…

(While I’m making a list, let me also put out into the universe that Serena’s new distraction, Aaron Rose, must go. I am NOT a fan. He looks like he smells.)

So tune in. It’ll be our secret.

XOXO

12/07/2008

Back to the 'Brook

Now that I’m a city girl, one of the things I miss most is my car. That’s where Zipcar comes in. My first experience, renting a Mini Cooper named Melhman, was rocky (he had a flat tire, which I had to fix). Since then I’ve switched to a BMW named Bern and he’s been Old Reliable.

It’s rare that I have access to a car these days, so my agenda yesterday was jam-packed:

8:00AM
I picked up my Zipcar from a nearby Manhattan garage. This really is a brilliant concept, renting nice cars by the hour with gas included, but they need a street team to check up on the fleet. Bern was way overdue for a service, which he reminded me every time I turned the engine on. There was also some dried-up ketchup near the gear shift, which I tried to avoid touching at all costs.

9:00AM
I couldn’t go all the way to Pine Brook without doing a drive-by of the old homestead. After all, we lived there for 25 years! Making my way up a street I’ve driven a million times before, I could see it sitting on the hill. Several familiar markers were missing, like our mailbox and some front-yard landscaping, but the biggest difference was the number of trees that had been chopped down. It must have been a dozen. These were 50+ year old trees -- the neighbors couldn’t have liked that at all! I immediately decided that while it looked like our house, it didn’t look like our home anymore, and continued driving. Curiosity satisfied.

9:15AM
No trip to Pine Brook is complete without a visit to 7-Eleven. I miss that little place! So I went in and picked up a yummy buttered roll, a true NJ delicacy.

9:30AM
I suppose there are dentists in NYC. Some might even be good. But I seriously love my dentist, so I’ll happily travel back to the ‘Brook 2x per year for my cleanings. We watch Food Network together, he tells me stories, and he gives me lessons about teeth. Yesterday’s lesson was about brushing after lunch. I said it grosses me out to brush in a public bathroom. He said that’s ok, just drink a bottle of water after drinking any soda and I’d be fine until I got home. Thanks, doc! As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I unwrapped my buttered roll with one hand and chewed it up with my newly clean teeth. To be on the safe side, I also drank a bottle of water afterwards.

10:15AM
Immediately following my dentist appointment, I went, naturally, to a candy store. Bromilow's in West Caldwell makes the most amazing home-made chocolates, but the cream of the crop is their chocolate-covered potato chip. Salty-sweet heaven. I picked up two boxes to give as gifts. (I won’t say who the gifts are for, because they may be reading this!)

10:30AM
I know I said I’d never set foot in a grocery store again, but I'm a sucker for Kings apple pie, and since they're practically next door to the chocolate shop, I simply had to bring one home. They were even having a sale on bottled water -- $3.99 for a 28-pack. That same case (with 4 less) is $8.99 on my beloved Fresh Direct, plus a delivery fee. Another reason to love NJ -- cheap water.

11:00AM
The city that never sleeps has everything… except for Target. What a crime! So one of the highlights of my day involved visiting the bullseye in Fairfield. My back seemed to be holding up, so I went up and down every aisle in the store, stocking up on all sorts of holiday treats. Sing it with me: There's no place like Target at Christmas to save. I may need to watch less TV.

12:30PM
I don’t think news of the recession has made its way to Willowbrook Mall in Wayne. I circled the parking lot 7 times to find a space, which I finally did right up front (score 1 for me -- in your face, parking lot!). Once inside, the stores were so crowded, I had to beat my way through with a stick. I’m kidding...I used a golf club.

1:30PM
My tour ended in Totowa, where I attended a 5-year old’s Little Mermaid birthday party. It was so much fun to catch up with old friends (big shout out to Jen, Adam, and Mike!). And I’m comforted to know that hide & seek, dress-up and tea parties are still very much in vogue.

All in all, it was a great day. Who says you can’t go home again?

12/04/2008

What a Waste of Lip Gloss

So I went on my first date with someone I “met” online.

The guy was from Match. He virtually winked at me, we exchanged several anonymous emails, then spoke on the phone and texted. On paper, he seemed pretty good...

He had a cleverly-written profile that used big words and didn't contain any grammatical errors. 43 year old hedge fund manager. Never married. No kids, no pets. Owned his apt on the UWS. Penn undergrad and Wharton MBA. Former college-level tennis player. A “people person” with a “feminine side ingrained by sisters.” Said he ate healthy, and ran or biked 15-30 miles per week. Had most of his hair. At a reported 5’10”, he was shorter than I normally like, but I thought I should keep an open mind.

We decided to meet.

Based on his pictures (there were 10), I arrived at Soho Park expecting someone who looked like David Addison from the Blue Moon Detective Agency. What I got was someone who looked more like Columbo. His suit was all rumpled, he had a belly like Santa, and SUCH big dark bags under his eyes that I’m confident Delta would have charged him a handling fee for merely setting foot on a plane. And even though I was in heels that made me just under 6’, he was no 5’10”.

Okaaaay. Keep an open mind.

We quickly sat down and there was this weird exchange with the waitress. She brought him something that looked like a coke or an iced coffee in a to-go cup. He sent it away and ordered a glass of white wine while I ordered a beer. Then she brought menus. “We won’t be eating,” he declared, and started rapidly firing questions at me. It felt very much like an interview, not at all like a conversation, and he kept asking me things we’d already discussed on the phone. Still, I tried to be breezy and light, tell stories, BE HUMAN. His eyes darted all around, and he checked his BlackBerry 7 times.

When I did manage to squeak a question in, I got mostly vague answers. “So, how many siblings do you have?” “A few.” “How long have you lived in New York?” “A while.” “Where’s your office?” “Downtown.” He fidgeted in his seat like a kid that had to go potty. But I did get one direct answer when I asked if his parents still lived in Florida. “They’re dead,” he replied.

Everything I said was met with the same reaction, an exaggerated, “Woooow.” We started out by talking about work, so at first, I thought the wows meant he was impressed. But when I said I liked pepperoni pizza and he said wow, I knew this date was over. He downed his glass of wine while I was only halfway thru my beer, and practically jumped out of his skin asking for the check.

It was actually pretty rude -- I was like, wait, YOU have had enough of ME? Oh, ok.

It was very awkward outside, so I went to shake his hand, as if to say, “Good luck, Freak.” Instead, he went in for a shoulder hug and an air-kiss on the cheek. But one cheek wasn’t enough -- apparently he thinks he’s European, because he barked, “One more!” and air-kissed my other cheek. I was like, ewww, you weird little midget!

And with that, I jumped in the first cab I saw, went straight home, and ate an entire pepperoni pizza.

Wow.

12/02/2008

Um, How Is It December Already?

Seriously – I’m asking! I’m not quite sure how it got to be December. I feel like I say that every year, but 2008 really feels like a blur.

You too?

Even though I don’t have a tree, my halls are officially decked with white twinkle lights, evergreen garland, and bright red poinsettias (luckily I did that before I pulled my back out). So my apt looks like the holidays -- but that didn’t do the trick. So I hit up another sense and bought some cinnamon-scented candles from Glade (those commercials really are persuasive!). I thought they would feel festive, but they really just make me dream of apple pie. Maybe I should trade them in for candles that smell like evergreen, so I can dream of being in a forest, and then wake up and be glad I’m not.

Anyway, no matter what I try, I’m finding that even though Christmas is my favorite holiday, I’m still not in the spirit. So I’ve decided to take the reindeer by the antlers and watch 5 shows that should have me saying, “Ho ho ho!” in no time.

Grab a mug of hot cocoa and come along for the (sleigh) ride:

1) Miracle on 34th Street (1947): I’m generally not a fan of old movies that don’t star Cary Grant, but this one’s a keeper. I just love the romance of old New York.

2) Emmet Otter’s Jug Band Christmas (1977): This one reminds me of being a kid, watching this with my brother after playing in the snow. These puppets are too cute, and the River Bottom Nightmare Band is, in a word, awesome.

3) Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966): It’s great that this freak skulks around Whoville stealing all their cool stuff, and pals around with Cindy Lou Who (who is no more than two), but nobody thinks it’s creepy. Ah, simpler times. Also it reminds me of being a sophomore in college, where my roommate, Jen, and I read the story aloud each night (generally after a few beers, so it’s really not as wholesome as it sounds).

4) A Christmas Story (1983): So good, it makes me want to shoot MY eye out with a Red Ryder BB Gun. And “show mommy how the piggies eat” makes me laugh every time.

5) Love, Actually (2003) and The Holiday (2006) (and let's toss in Bridget Jones’s Diary 2001 while we’re at it): These are all-round feel-good romantic comedies that just happen to take place at Christmastime. Plus, they’re set in the UK, so they’re fancy too!

Honorable mention goes to Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964) because stop-motion animation is rad and I like Hermey, the elf who wishes he was a dentist.

As a final stocking stuffer, here’s a holiday confession: I hate It’s a Wonderful Life. It depresses me. That whiny little kid bugs me (“Teacher says…” shut up!). And I have no patience for Jimmy Stewart in any capacity – just spit it out already, old man, and stop all that stammering.

You know, maybe I don’t need to see The Grinch after all… I think I got that one covered.

What gets you in the holiday spirit?

11/30/2008

Thankful

As I write this, I’m lying in bed, strapped to a heating pad.

To understand what happened, we need to go back about 3 weeks. I noticed that the heater in my living room was on the fritz. The vents felt hot, but the air wasn’t blowing and it wouldn’t really turn on (or off). Not liking the idea of random people roaming around my pad while I wasn’t home, I waited to get it fixed until my parents were in town. So on Wednesday, aka Thanksgiving Eve, I took my mom to the doctor for her regular appointment while my dad was stationed inside my apartment all day on heater patrol.

When I came home from my Good Deed, I immediately noticed my furniture was askew. Obviously things had to be moved for the workers to get to said busted heater. But I ignored the fact that heat was now flowing freely because the OCD Fairy whispered in my ear. Must. Fix. Furniture. Now.

I think you see where this is going.

As my dad helped my mom off with her coat, I pushed my sleeper sofa roughly 4 inches to the left. Ah, that’s better. But then the rug got scrunched up. So I bent down and lifted the end of the sofa to straighten it out. Ok good. Now that order was restored in the world, I sat on the sofa and realized my coffee table was too far away. I couldn’t be expected to live like this! So I leaned forward to pull a large wooden table (containing several shelves and drawers full of magazines, catalogues, and books) toward me.

I pulled. My back popped.

Actually, maybe it was more of a tear. I don’t know, I’m not a doctor. Either way, I instantly knew something bad had happened. On Thanksgiving Eve.

By 7pm the shooting pains and spasms made it crystal clear I was on the DL. I couldn’t get up, I couldn’t lie down, and I knew there was no way I could drag my sorry ass onto a CT-bound Metro North train for various Turkey Day festivities.

Now, to say my family isn’t great with sudden changes in plans is the understatement of the millennium. But I have to say, they rolled with this one. My awesome brother drove down early Thanksgiving morning to pick up my dad and drop off all the fixings for turkey sandwiches, plus an apple pie, pop-tarts (classic pilgrim fare) and even a cheerful plant. He’s definitely lobbying for Brother of the Year (little did he know, he already had it in the bag). As my dad headed north to represent the family at the official dinner, my sweet mom stayed with me all day and made the most delicious sandwich ever -- with paper-thin turkey, moist stuffing, and tart cranberry sauce, it was Thanksgiving on a Bun.

Fast forward to today: I’ve spent about 89 of the last 90 hours in bed. I feel like Grandpa Joe from Willy Wonka. I might look like him too. I’m much better, but still not great. I think I’ve successfully avoided a trip to the Scary New York City Emergency Room. Still, I could use a hot shower, and I may be getting an ulcer from all the Tylenol I’ve been taking. But I am pretty thankful for my amazing family.

Oh, I also discovered a new channel on TV – LMN (Lifetime Movie Network). I got sucked into their mini-series marathon, specifically Lace, where Phoebe Cates, in all her 1984 big hair and shoulder-padded splendor, turned in her finest performance. In a very strange attempt at a foreign accent (Irish, maybe? Or was it German?), she uttered what could be the best line ever, “Now, which one of you bitches is my mother?”

Even though I filled up on turkey, I still had room for cheese.

So, did your Turkey Day go as planned?

11/25/2008

I Had A Crush on the Free Credit Report Guy

Lately, I feel like I’ve seen him more often than my family, friends or co-workers. It’s the FreeCreditReport.com guy.

He first came on the scene last year, dressed as a pirate with nothing but his boyish grin and a catchy jingle about a hacker who stole his identity. I was hooked (and had an odd craving for chowder and iced tea).

The months went by, and I felt his pain as he married his dream girl but because of HER bad credit, was forced to live in her mom & dad’s basement in a room that was so small his drummer had to use the toilet as a stool. I defended him (and his whack credit) as his posse was getting laughed at and their legs stuck to the vinyl in their used subcompact. I didn't think he looked that bad while rollin’ eco-friendly on a 2-wheel ride. And I cursed the credit gods as his identity was stolen yet again by some punk who prevented him from enjoying the champagne, caviar, and tricked-out exotic cars reserved only for rock stars.

Why such blind devotion to a man with such dubious credit? Because he was so cute!

Sure, I’ve heard that his report isn’t actually “free.” I can look past that. And I think it’s pretty clear he’s lip synching. Eh, so what? But now I hear it’s not even his voice because the actor doesn’t speak English? Well that’s just blasphemy!

Now, he’s all trying to woo me back with his fake sword fights and green wool tights at the Renaissance Faire (where he thought his credit could stink and nobody would care). I say, be gone, fake cute indie rock musician! Your bad credit is no good with me.

11/19/2008

Roll Out the Red Carpet

The following takes place between 7 and 9pm. Events occur in real-time.

Tonight I went to a screening of 24: Redemption. It was a 2hr movie they filmed in South Africa when the writer’s strike prevented work on the TV show. I’ll admit, I haven’t watched 24 since season 1 (season 7 starts in January), but I was still pretty excited to go. It’s not every day I get invited to a movie screening with actual famous people!

It was freezing today, making it impossible to get a taxi. When I did finally find one, I went as far as 47th and 6th in bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic before I decided to hop out and hoof it to the theater on 42nd. I should never forget that the fastest way around town above ground is on two legs.

When I arrived and met my friend, G, the first thing we noticed was that the theater was super huge and really nice. After taking several escalators high above Times Square to screen #13, we came upon the red carpet where lots of news crews were interviewing people I didn’t really know. I was all ready to tell them I was wearing Ann Taylor LOFT, but nobody asked.

We were quickly directed to a table where we had to surrender all cell phones, PDAs, and cameras – that could have been a zoo, but it was all pretty well-organized. We were then ushered into the theater, but not before picking up our buttery popcorn and choice of Coke, Diet Coke, or Sprite (sorry, Steve). Free movie treats? Score! The popcorn bags were even branded with the 24 logo. The marketer in me was secretly jealous of the promotion budgets that movie studios have.

Inside, the theater was pretty crowded. We headed up the stairs to a row that looked empty, only to find out that it was reserved for some VIPs. Eventually, we found seats down in the 4th row, and settled into our red oversized chairs. Soon, the lights dimmed to get our attention, then came on again for the head writer and executive producer to each take a turn speaking. I couldn’t help but notice that standing in the wings was Jack Bauer himself, Kiefer Sutherland! He was pretty cute in a dark suit with a yellow tie, but he looked quite short (I always think famous people are taller than they actually are). The wool overcoat he wore told me he wasn’t staying for the show, and he didn’t. As soon as his name appeared on the screen he ducked right out.

You know, action/adventure really isn’t my thing, but the movie kept my attention the whole time. The story was pretty interesting and intense, the characters were believable, and I enjoyed a few casting surprises, like Gil Bellows and Peter MacNicol, both formerly of Ally McBeal. I remember Billy being so cute back in the day, but let me tell you, he has not aged well. Who would have thought “The Biscuit” would be the better looking alum?

Anyway, FOX is airing 24: Redemption this Sunday night at 8pm, so you can see it too! You can even hire a short guy, dress him in a yellow tie, and call him Kiefer.

Check out the trailer:



And thanks for inviting me, G!

11/18/2008

5 Reasons I Hope Lipstick Jungle Doesn't Get Cancelled

Lately there have been rumors swirling about the imminent cancellation of Lipstick Jungle. The show eeked by last year (likely due to the writer’s strike), and now in its second season, was recently moved to Fridays – the death slot!

I’m sure it didn’t help that the show’s star, Brooke Shields, recently said the show needed better writing. Didn’t she learn anything from her guest appearance as Joey Tribbiani's #1 fan? His Dr. Drake Ramoray took a 1-way ride down an elevator shaft after he bashed the writing on Days!

Anyway, I really like the fluffy time I spend with the girls in the Jungle. Here’s why I hope they stick around:

1. Kirby. Ahhh… I could watch that guy for the whole hour. Plus I recently saw an interview with the actor who plays him and he’s actually smart (he’s got a degree in economics from UCSD)! And hot! Nevermind he's like, 12. He just might be the 8th Wonder of the World.

2. Was a better character name ever invented than Victory Ford? Yes, I’m distracted by Lindsay Price’s teeth, which seem to have been severely flattened since her days as Steve Sanders' baby mama on the original 90210, and sure, she gets a little whiny, but her awesome name makes up for it all.

3. Ditto Andrew McCarthy with the weird face, but I’m digging this reunion with one of the stars of one of my top 10 favorite movies of all time, St. Elmo’s Fire (which also starred Emilio Estevez as a guy named Kirby – coincidence? I think not!). Seeing him as a suave kajillionaire makes me almost completely forget his weekends spent with a dead guy named Bernie. Both times.

4. Read My Lips. I love this song! I wonder if you can download it? It would be a saucy little ditty for my walk to work.

5. Someone really needs to throw creator, Candace Bushnell, a bone. With the economy the way it is, if the show gets the boot she may need to trade her Manolos for Payless. THAT would be a tragedy.

So will it get cancelled? I don't know. But I’ve heard that people have been sending lipsticks to the execs at NBC to keep the show on the air. I may just drop a few tubes in the mail myself. I’m lousy with Clinique freebies (seriously, how many Tenderhearts can one girl use?).

11/17/2008

I Heart Otto

In a city where Italian restaurants are a dime a dozen, it takes a lot to stand out. I just got home from having dinner at my personal fave, Mario Batali’s Otto (pronounced OH-toe, not AH-toe, but I say it that way because it reminds me of my childhood mailman named… wait for it… Otto).

Without a doubt, I’ve eaten here more than at any other Manhattan restaurant over the last few years, mainly because I never get tired of the cozy, laid-back atmosphere and the simple pizza/pasta menu. The occasional celebrity sightings – Liv Tyler, Mike Myers, and Mario himself – aren’t too shabby either.

Otto’s train station waiting area, aka bar, is HUGE by NY standards. It’s fun to see the letters on the big board click-click-click into position, telling you your table is up next. I love that the bread arrives all wrapped in paper like a present. And I could literally take a (very sticky) bath in the truffled honey and black cherries they serve with their amazing cheese course.

Certainly, I have my reliable go-to dishes (eggplant caponata and pasta alla Norma, you know who you are!) but pretty much everything I’ve ever eaten there has been totally delicious, with the possible exception of the Pizza Lardo – that one was mainly just bread topped with semi-transparent strips of pork fat, which was as gross as it sounds.

Bottom line: You really can’t go wrong at Otto, but you might want to skip the lardo. And if you decide to go, invite me! We’ll order the olive oil gelato for dessert. It sounds disgusting, but it’s divine – not sweet, very creamy with a sprinkling of kosher salt on top. Delicioso!

What’s your fave NYC eatery?

11/11/2008

5 Reasons to Tune In to Top Chef

Fire up the ovens, Betty Crocker, season 5 of Top Chef premieres tomorrow night!

What? You haven’t jumped on this culinary bandwagon yet? Fear not. This is a classy reality show that you can openly express your love for, much like The Amazing Race, because it’s less about the relationship drama and more about the competitions (this is in stark contrast to The Hills, which magically appears on my DVR and I secretly watch under cover of night).

Tomorrow, 17 “cheftestants” stand ready to take a bite out of Big Apple. Here’s why I’ve made a reservation at the best table in the house (and plan to munch on a far unhealthier snack than apples):

1. I love shows about food. That’s all, just putting it out there.

2. Judges table is most delicious when Padma (does she eat?) and Tom Colicchio (we KNOW he eats) take a seat alongside old favorites like Anthony Bourdain and Ted Allen. Can’t wait to see what past guests, like Martha and Rocco, and new guests like the Foo Fighters (huh??) bring to the mix this year.

3. I really dig the little piccolo music that plays when the Quickfire Challenge is announced. I especially like when the challenge involves making something I love to eat, like the perfect burger. And I love to laugh when the chef who makes the lettuce “burger” loses.

4. The chefs create a lot of great-looking, interesting dishes, but the best is when they battle over the bad stuff, like the bacon & avocado ice cream, or the chocolate ganache with chicken livers, or the butterscotch scallops. So gross, you could taste it thru the TV.

5. What other show tells its axed contestants to “pack your knives and go”? So brave.

Sight unseen, my top picks to go the distance right now are Fabio and Jamie. I can’t wait to watch them sweat out judges deliberations in front of the ultimate ode to product placement, that is the “Glad Wall.”

What’s your favorite reality TV show? Don’t be shy, you know you have one…

11/09/2008

The Dating Pool Is Awfully Shallow

So I did it. You wore me down. Are you proud of yourselves?

I bit the bullet and joined Match, eHarmony, and Chemistry (I told you I would). I took personality quizzes, cropped photos, and wrote profiles that don’t even BEGIN to scratch the surface on who I am.

I’m quickly finding it’s not hard at all to get responses – guys are no different online than they are at your friendly neighborhood construction site. What IS difficult, however, is finding someone you’d even like to share an elevator with, let alone anything else.

Now, I’m no walk in the park. I know I’m particular. And quirky. Some might even say, I can be a handful (anyone remember the spring break travel agent who cursed, “God help the man who marries you”?). But tell me you wouldn’t rather be alone forever than be with ANY of the following guys?

Keep in mind, these are ACTUAL snippets from profiles of heterosexual men who winked, broke the ice, or otherwise initiated conversation with me – and they are just the tip of a very freaky iceberg:

Guy 1: “I love animals and have a cat of my own. If I could adopt all the cats in the world, I would, because I really love cats and my own cat is like my child.”

Guy 2: “I want to hug at least on one evening in the week. Everything less would be too cruel and I would cry and scream and leave the house with our Chihuahua.”

Guy 3: “I walk after work to relieve the stress from my job. I’m tired of teaching, it was having too much of a stress level on me dealing with 60 teenagers a day, all at once. Until I decide what I want to do I’ll substitute teach, as it much less stressful on me and my doctors say I need to reduce stress.”

Guy 4: “I am averse to pets. I don’t like the smells, hairs, and the fact that they reduce your ability to go out spontaneously. Pets are as loveable as an ingrown toenail. If you have a pet of any kind (yes, even fish), you should stop reading now.”

Guy 5: “I love murder mystery's. They allow me to getaway with something without repercussions and keep my brains active trying to figure out who dund it.”

Guy 6: “I hated women for while because I am divorced. But have successfully worked through ALL issues, there’s no baggage.”

Guy 7: “I am an only child, I am adopted, and I have a little toy poodle that I just adore.”

Guy 8: “I am officially separated, but do not let that put you off. My divorce will be final in less than six months. I’m not sure yet what is happening with the house, so I am bunking with friends.”

Guy 9: “I'm very much into dancing and tried ballroom, Argentine tango and salsa dancing before deciding that I like swing dancing the best. I've been to swing dance camps.”

Guy 10: “I am an avid stamp collector.”

Consider yourselves lucky that I didn’t post the pictures that go along with these gems. Let’s just say, I’ve seen a bunch of cats dressed in sweaters, photos of nature (why, exactly?), a few guys waxing cars, and several short bald dudes holding big fish (or rifles).

Umm…I’m thinking, no.

Am I being shallow?

11/06/2008

Thanksgiving in a Box

One of the great treats of living in the city is Fresh Direct. Whoever thought this up is a freaking genius.

Gone are the days of roaming the fluorescent aisles at Kings (a mighty fine New Jersey grocery store chain). I may never load up a shopping cart with a wobbly wheel again. No more bagging my groceries as they fly off the conveyor belt at record speed. And I've played my last game of Parking Lot Ethics -- should I leave an empty cart next to a parked car, or walk all the way back to the store to drop it off? I even live across the street from Gristedes now, but nothing beats a few clicks of a mouse when buying groceries.

Today I received the greatest Fresh Direct email ever: Thanksgiving in a Box. You pick the size of the cooked turkey you want, choose from 2 kinds of stuffings, get 4 different side dishes, and a tasty cake or pie. They throw in rolls, gravy, and cranberry sauce, delivered right to your door. It's a heat and eat Thanksgiving miracle.

It's funny, when I first saw my apartment, the leasing agent looked at me like I had 10 heads when I said I loved to cook. "Nobody cooks in this city," he sneered, "girls use their ovens to store sweaters." A little extreme, but I'm starting to understand...

Maybe I'll just keep mittens in my oven, when I'm not reheating delicious meals from my favorite online grocery store!

11/03/2008

The One

This morning, I was on a shuttle bus chock full of retirees on the way to the airport, after spending the weekend with my parents. It was dark outside and I was tired (and frankly, I’m not much of a morning person), so all I wanted to do was plug in my iPod and zone out to an eclectic medley of songs I like.

Unfortunately for me, Selma from South Carolina had other plans…

After some cursory small talk, she asked if I was traveling alone, to which I replied, “Yes.”

Then she asked where my husband was.

What I wanted to say was, “I packed him in my suitcase.” What I really said was, “I’m not married.” Selma let out a long sigh, “Don’t worry, dear, eventually you’ll find The One. Or even The Three, like I did.”

It’s a conversation I seem to find myself in fairly often. I must look like I roam the Earth searching behind doors, around corners, and under tables, like I misplaced my keys, muttering, “Now, where DID I leave The One again?”

Well, Selma: I do not believe in The One. (Or The Three.)

Love isn’t like the cross-town bus -- like if you miss it, you’d better pick up a sensible pair of sneakers because you’re doomed to walk forever. No! If you miss it, just wait -- another bus will swing by 5 minutes later. I mean, nobody expects you to live in just one house, or have just one friend, or order just one pizza topping until the end of time.

Why do we set the stakes so high when it comes to love?

Just think about everyone you meet over a lifetime. There are SO many different people in this world that you can be compatible with. I refuse to believe I could “miss out” because I wasn’t paying attention in geometry class, or I waited on the wrong line at the DMV, or I sat in 2F instead of 2A on a flight from Orlando to New York -- all while The One passed me by.

I guess my point is, I believe in The Many (but not all at the same time -- I’m not that kind of girl!), because you can’t miss out on love.

At least not forever.

Married friends: This is your cue to come out of hiding and tell me why I’m wrong. Comment below!

10/29/2008

13 Costumes

Trick or Treat!

I haven't dressed up for Halloween in years. When I did, my choices were pretty run of the mill: an angel, a Rockette, a flapper, a bunny, and I'm pretty sure I was randomly a farmer one year (in my Guess overalls, no less).

Since Halloween is such a spectacle here in NYC (and I’m missing it to visit my parents in the Sunshine State), here’s a list of 13 costumes I would wear, if I was, in fact, dressing up:

1. Sequins + cocktails = Cloris Leachman
2. Headband + kneesocks = Blair Waldorf
3. Poncho + braces = Betty Suarez
4. Blank stare + blond extensions = LC
5. Evil eye + flesh-colored beard = Spencer Pratt
6. Bee-stung lips + babies of many nations = Angelina Jolie
7. Hamburger phone + big belly = Juno
8. Shotgun + big belly = Bristol Palin
9. Bird on my head + big white dress = Carrie Bradshaw
10. Red bandanna + eyeliner = Bret Michaels
11. Red chignon + pointy brassiere = Joan Halloway
12. White teeth + an accent = The Orbitz Girl
13. Or I could have just gone naked and said the economy stole my costume

What’s the best Halloween costume that you've ever seen?

Bonus points to anyone who was ever given a "trick" instead of a "treat." Toothbrushes, raisins (nature's candy!), and pennies all count.