5 Reasons I'll Miss Mad Men

I'll admit, I missed jumping on the Mad Men bandwagon when season 1 initially aired. I heard it was good, but could never find AMC -- at first I thought it was A&E, then maybe TCM. Who can keep track of all the acronyms? One day, while strolling thru Best Buy, I happened on the 1st season on DVD. It had very cool packaging, like a flip top cigarette lighter. Being a marketer's consumer, I was intrigued.

So I bought, and I watched, and I loved. You can bet I never missed an episode of season 2 (and even found it on channel 54!). I'm sad the season is over so quickly. I've really enjoyed taking a trip back to 1962 every Sunday night. Here's why I'm counting the days until season 3 (or at least until 2 comes out on DVD):

1) Dreamy Don Draper. I can say no more.

2) Love the opening credits. It really transports you back to that time, like falling down the rabbit hole. Combined with the costumes and the culture (Drinking in the office? Sleeping on your office couch? A pregnant woman smoking while at the doctor's office? Scandalous!), it's such a stark contrast to the politically correct, health-conscious world we live in today.

3) The story lines are never neatly tied up. It keeps me tuning in from week to week to see if Basketcase Betty will ever forgive the original Dapper Don for his dalliances, or whether Peggy will ever embrace reality and tell Pete she had his baby and gave it away, will Joan really marry her creepy fiance after he basically raped her in her boss's office (and will she put an eye out with those boobs?), is Sal EVER coming out of the closet, and now that Duck is hitting the sauce again, who knows what will happen with the Sterling Cooper merger?

4) Aside from Roger Sterling (played by the awesomely arrogant John Slattery -- remember him from SATC? He liked to be peed on.), I really never saw any of these actors before, but I'm impressed with their skills the same way I'm blown away when I see a Broadway show. HBO must be kicking itself for passing on this.

5) The marketer in me appreciates the way advertising has been integrated into the show. Even the commercials have a historical feel -- nice job BMW and Heineken -- so it never totally takes you out of the mood. Really slick!

I also love that my mom and I have a phone date every Sunday at 10pm to watch the show together. I guess that's reason #6. Maybe we'll need to start having a Dancing with the Stars phone date now...it has costumes too.

New Jersey = Awesome

I was reading today about Linens N Things going under and it made me sad. I love their coupons. Frankly, I could never tell it apart from Bed Bath & Beyond, but since it is/was a company based out of Clifton, NJ (and BBB is from Union, NJ), I will now pay homage to these houseware havens by listing 16 awesome things about the Garden State:

1. Let's start with the Holy Trinity: Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen, and Frank Sinatra. I could end the list right here. But I won't...

2. Lots of A-list celebs hail from the Garden State: Tom Cruise, Eddie Murphy, Martha Stewart, Jack Nicholson, Michael Douglas, Danny DeVito, Queen Latifah, Whitney Houston, Kevin Spacey, Meryl Streep, John Travolta.

3. Newark Airport is really nice.

4. NJ is the most densely populated state with 1,174 residents per square mile, 13x the nation's average. Could all those people be wrong?

5. It has one of the best public school systems in the country, with 10% of all perfect SAT scores coming from NJ students.

6. The first baseball game ever recorded was played in Hoboken.

7. Hoboken is also home to the first American brewery, opened in 1642, and today has more bars/restaurants per square mile than any other city (140).

8. NJ became the birthplace of collegiate football when Rutgers played Princeton waaay back in 1869 (Rutgers won).

9. Lots of cool things were invented here, like the FM radio, the motion picture camera, the phonograph, the light bulb, the electric train, the drive-in movie, the zipper, the postcard, seedless watermelons, frozen food, and the ice cream cone.

10. The properties in Monopoly are named for places in Atlantic City (and its boardwalk was the world's first, and is still the longest).

11. Jaws was inspired by real-life attacks that took place on the Jersey Shore.

12. There are more diners in Jersey than any other place in the world (over 600!).

13. It is 1 of only 2 states in the country where self-service gas stations are prohibited (pumping your own gas is positively barbaric).

14. As of 2008, NJ has more millionaire residents than any other state.

15. North Jersey has the most shopping malls of anyplace in the world, with 7 major malls in a 25 square mile radius (Willowbrook, Short Hills, Livingston, Rockaway, Paramus, Garden State Plaza, -- what's the 7th? Bridgewater Commons?)

16. Are you there God, it's me, Jersey -- Judy Blume is from Elizabeth!

So, what else is great about the Garden State? List your faves below.

And don't bother with the fact that it has the most toxic waste dumps (108) and is the car-jacking capital of the world (thanks, Newark!). That's just propaganda to keep the losers out.

To Date or Not To Date

If I had a $1 for every time someone told me to create an online dating profile, I might be able to retire. Or at least, take a very nice vacation.

It makes total sense. I do everything online! I bank and pay my bills. I shop for clothes and groceries. I buy airline and concert tickets. I keep in touch with family and friends, and do a zillion other things. The only time I am not online is when I am sleeping, and even then, I have my Treo on my nightstand. I even earn a living online. So what am I waiting for?

Rationally, I know it works. Every day, I hear a new story about someone who met their match online and is now planning their wedding. I see the commercials on TV. "It's ok to look!" "29 dimensions of compatability!" Even that creepy human beatbox guy found love (note to Chemistry: from a marketing perspective, he's not doing you any favors).

Yes, I know it can work. But could it work for ME? I'm scared of strangers!

Maybe I just need to stop watching TV (after all, they did ruin hotel rooms for me with all their black light exposes). I just feel like it's shady. Not that I have better options. Almost all my friends are married, so I don't really go out to bars anymore. Everyone they know is also married, plus I'm not really a fan of the random fix-up. I wouldn't ever consider dating anyone I work with. I don't have any hobbies like golfing or eating chicken wings or volunteering or fantasy baseball drafts that would allow me to meet guys. And I live in a city that has the most single women of any place in the country.

So what's a nice girl like me to do?

Should I bite the bullet and join Match, eHarmony, and Chemistry (yes, I said AND -- I like to be thorough -- it would be just my luck to join the wrong site and find nothing but guys who mate falcons, or dress as stormtroopers, or have a collection of human hair)? Should I take the old fashioned route and go bar-hopping? Join a bookclub or a gym? Learn to whittle or take a class at Home Depot? I don't know.

While I contemplate my next move, I'm making sure I have lipstick on every time I throw out the trash. You never know who you might run into.

Baby steps...

Rock the Vote (and the Voter)

I'm sick of this election.

I hate that in the weeks before any election both candidates fight so dirty that voting becomes a lesser of two evils, rather than a choice for the right man for the job. I'm tired of empty promises of change and vague answers to direct questions about serious issues. And I get a headache from the incessant political declarations of various celebrities who don't seem terribly informed.

I don't put too much faith in polls, since I've been voting for 17 years and I've never been polled, maybe because I have a job that precludes me from answering my home phone at 2 in the afternoon. And I'm bugged by every "undecided" voter -- I do not believe you, you know which guy you want, you just want to be on TV.

But do you know what I really can't stand? The fact that I may not be ABLE to vote.

Since I recently moved, I thought the right thing to do would be to alert the local board of elections. Rather than vote absentee in Pine Brook, a place I no longer live, I filled out and mailed in a form to have my registration switched to Manhattan. Seemed like the right thing to do. Right?

Wrong.

About a month has passed, and still...nothing. Not a postcard, not a peep.

So, I called the NYC board of elections today and a woman (who was clearly eating during our entire conversation and made me spell my last name, no joke, six times) told me that they they don't have enough staff to enter the massive volume of applications they've received. So, maybe mine would be processed by Election Day. But maybe it wouldn't. And there's nothing she can do about it and I should just settle down, because lots of people are in the same boat.

Um, excuse me?

Pushing aside my disbelief that in this day and age ANYTHING needs to be manually entered -- especially when I got the form online -- I'm once again in awe of how criminally inadequate, outdated, and inept the voting process actually is. By comparison, it makes the DMV seem like it's run by NASA.

If dead people and Mickey Mouse can vote, why the hell can't I?

Oh, yeah, too much paperwork... I forgot.

Consider this voter officially rocked.

Pizza Pizza

Even when pizza's bad, it's pretty good. Right?

New York City is synonymous with the slice. Theories abound on its origins, but one thing is for certain: There's something in the water here that makes it deelicious. Sure, you might seek out Lombardi's or Patsy's or John's or Grimaldi's or Totonno's when time is on your side, but in a pinch, any pizza will do. After all, this is NEW YORK. It's gotta be good.

Today, I read in the elevator that October is (among many other things) National Pizza Month. I dreamt about saluting the slice by eating one a day for 31 days. The seed was planted -- must have pizza for dinner.

When I got home, I headed straight for my menu binder (yes, I have a menu binder, and it's organized by type of cuisine -- if you know me at all you'd expect nothing less). Since I'm still fairly new to the neighborhood, I'm still trying out the local spots. So I randomly selected a mom & pop pizza shop takeout menu and patiently waited 20-25 minutes for my dinner to arrive.

Well, it did. I took one bite. And it was total crap, blowing my theory all to shreds. There IS bad pizza in New York. The crust was inexplicably stale, the cheese was waxy, the sauce was bitter, and there was so much oregano I might as well have just dumped a whole jar in my mouth and called it even. So I ditched my dinner and ate cereal instead.

Is there such a thing as a bad slice? And where do you go for the best tasting "tomato pie"?

PS: Don't reply with any Chicago-style "pizza" because it stinks. If I wanted to use a knife and fork, I'd have a steak.

5 Reasons I'm Glad Dirty Sexy Money Is Back

Waaaay back in the winter, there was a writers strike. These were dark days for TV-philes like myself. Days filled with reality TV (which I secretly love), bad movies (which are ok too), and reading (which I mostly do when the cable goes out). When spring sprung and flowers bloomed, most of my beloved shows came back -- if only for a few episodes -- just to say, "See you in September." All except for one: Dirty Sexy Money.

Oh, how I missed it. And now it's back. Here's why I watched it live, and DVR'ed it, and re-watched it on my DVR, and saved it to maybe watch again...

1. I'd like the Darling clan to adopt me. Don't get me wrong, I like my family just fine, but they don't hand out yachts like tic-tacs on my birthday. Tripp does.

2. Reverend Brian is the angriest holy man on the planet. His scenes are always my favorite and his lines are awesomely evil.

3. The show surprises me. Didn't see it coming that Patrick's wife would be painting the bathroom floor red with her skull. And didn't see Letitia getting cuffed and stuffed for killing Dutch either (although I don't believe she did it). I like a show that keeps me guessing.

4. It's got the campiness of Melrose Place mixed with the decadence of Dynasty, but the writing is tight and the cast can act.

5. If loving Peter Krause is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Sally Hansen Has Changed My Life

I'm not exactly sure how I got to be 35 and never discovered old Sally.

With my irrational dislike of professional manicures intact, over the years I have become quite adept at painting my own nails (even using my left hand). What I've been a spectacular failure at, however, is getting the polish to actually STAY on my fingernails for more than 24 hours.

Maybe I don't eat enough calcium. Maybe I'm too rough. Maybe my nails like to breathe. I don't know, but the minute my fingers are dry (and occasionally several moments before), my nails chip, split, crack, get sheet marks, and otherwise look totally banged up.

This has never stopped me from fighting the good fight. I've spent countless hundreds of dollars on polish over the years. It only takes a peek inside my medicine cabinet to find roughly 30 shades from Essie, OPI, Lancome, Chanel, and the like. No matter what, Chip City.

So, I was running errands on Friday nite after work, to get ready for a wedding in Chicago on Saturday. I stopped into CVS to pick up a few things, including top coat. Thinking back, I'm not even sure what drew me to Sally, but five -- count them, FIVE -- days later, my chip-free fingernails are saying, "What took you so long?!?"

Here's the formula:

1 base coat of Sally Hansen Hard as Wraps (in Clear Gloss)

+ 2 coats of polish (I used OPI's Chick Flick Cherry)

+ 1 coat of Sally Hansen Diamond Strength No Chip Top Coat (in Flawless)

= Magic

Have you got any beauty secrets to share?

Poetry in Motion

I live in a nice building, I think. There's a good mix of young and old, all appear gainfully employed. There is also this contingency of 20-something guys who are generally doing at least one of the following: coming back from the gym, coming back from a beer/pizza run, coming back from a smoke, coming back from a bar, or coming home from a hookup.

I've decided to chronicle my most recent NYC encounter with a poem. I call this one, "Stinkies."

I stepped in the elevator this morning
and got trapped inside without any warning,
as if my feet were shackled to the ground
by a stink, coming from all around.
Should I turn to my left,
as a man's booze stunk like breath?
Or turn to my right,
I see someone who did not shower last night!
It made my straight hair curl and my sunglasses melt.
Why, oh why, did I smell what I smelt?

Housewarming

Last night I had the first dinner party I've had in a long time. After work, I bounced down 2nd ave gathering the all ingredients to my feast -- bruschetta, antipasto, coal-oven pizza, cannolis. In about 3 stops and 45 minutes, I collected what would have taken hours at "home." I rinsed off wine glasses that had been dry too long, unearthed my bread basket, and shook the wrinkles out of my favorite napkins while waiting for my friends to arrive.

We all used to work together, but have now formed a sort of dinner club. No matter what we eat, the gossip is ALWAYS the juiciest course.

I think it's impossible not to grow close to the people you work with -- after all, you spend most of your waking hours together. This particular group of friends is very dear to me, they shared my excitement when my parents retired and first moved to Florida, and gave me a shoulder to cry on when things really didn't work out as planned. They didn't judge, they just listened, and it meant a lot.

Last night was a happy bookend -- sitting in my new apt, sharing the good news that my mom is doing better and my parents are back in the sunshine state. We ate and drank and laughed for hours, and as I loaded the dishwasher and gathered the trash, I realized it was the most wonderfully carefree evening I've had in while.

Cheers, ladies!

5 Reasons I Like True Blood

Now that I'm not commuting for 3 hours each day, I have more free time. I'd like to say I've put that time to good use, but I haven't. In the morning I sleep later, and in the evenings I have more time for my favorite hobby: TV.

The invention of the DVR has changed my life -- no joke -- and I especially like it when I can stockpile a few episodes for what I call, Binge Viewing. I couldn't wait any longer, so I broke the seal this weekend on the first 2 episodes of Alan Ball's new HBO series, True Blood. I was already intrigued by their synthetic vampire blood teaser campaign that was splattered around the city all summer, so I was disappointed when my favorite magazine, EW, gave it a C and said, "Ball has never seen a comic-dramatic premise he can't flatten with leaden metaphors." Ouch.

But I live on the edge, so I watched anyway, and um... LOVED it. Let me count the ways:

1. The theme song is so damn catchy -- I Want to Do Bad Things With You sets the perfect mood.

2. It took me 2 episodes to place Anna Paquin's vaguely familiar half-naked brother as Ryan Kwanten from the short-lived series Summerland (most notably remembered for starring Jesse McCartney before he was flyin on a G5, G5 and Zac Efron before he was a highschool heartthrob). Nice surprise casting!

3. Vampires are fascinating. Just ask Anne Rice.

4. Smart-mouthed sidekick Tara steals the show. I want to hang out with her. I'm also liking Sam the owner of Merlotte's, and I think EW's PopWatch is really on to something with their theory about his true identity.

5. It's ALAN BALL, people. Even his bad stuff is pretty good. He is single-handedly responsible for the massive crush I have on Peter Krause, and his series finale of Six Feet Under was so moving and beautiful and fitting, it still gives me chills to this day.

As far as I'm concerned, it's total escapist television -- just the way I like it. I'm in.

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

One of the things I need to get used to again is living amongst the general population. I don't like strangers, and I REALLY don't like the sounds and smells they make.

I've yet to actually meet anybody who lives on my floor, but I know 3 things about my neighbors to the left:

1. They slam the front door a lot, especially at night just as I've drifted off to a peaceful sleep

2. They cook dinner at 6:45pm on the dot (and don't own a cookbook, because it smells like the same weird stew every single day)

3. They think they own the hall because they leave all their crap outside their apt

Few things bother me more than people who are inconsiderate. I can get over the dinner smells (thanks Lysol!) but the other two just bug me. The slamming is just plain rude. And they have a 2-bedroom apt for God's sake, you mean they don't have room for a stroller and a couple of dirty mops? Maybe they have a burgeoning business as door-slamming, floor-scrubbing babysitters and this hallway eyesore is just performance advertising. I don't know.

Oh wait, I know 1 more thing about them:

4. They smoke, which I always suspected, and have now confirmed with a casual inspection of the basket on the back of their kid's stroller -- it contains a lovely pack of ciggies. Way to go mommy & daddy!

Am I the only one with annoying neighbors? Should I pin a note on their door asking them to clean up their act, or will that force them to leave a flaming pot of "dirty mop stew" outside mine?

Think Inside the Box

So, I've been living in Manhattan for about a month now and my last box is finally unpacked (there were 100, so this was a feat of both strength and perseverance). Things have been so hectic, though, I really haven't taken the time to look around and see the city that I now work and sleep in.

I'm a Jersey Girl at heart, but I've worked in New York City for the last 12 years -- my whole working life (aside from an unfortunate post-grad stint as a photocopying grunt in Parsippany). So I thought I knew Manhattan. The sights. The sounds. The crowds. The smells. We were old friends! But the other night, for the first time, I realized I wasn't in Pine Brook anymore...

For a sales conference group outing, my company rented out a place called The Box, an ultra-exclusive, LES sign company turned burlesque club. From the outside, it looked like a dump nestled between a giant heap of trash and questionably-spelled graffiti scribbles. I wasn't impressed. A chatty doorman told us that Madonna and A-Rod visited the night prior. That should have piqued my interest. But it wasn't until someone said that it doubled as the club "Victrola" that Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl owned, that I took notice.

OMFG is all I can say. Inside, it just felt naughty (which, incidentally, WAS a little weird while at a work function), but amazingly cool just the same. Private banquettes in the balcony were lit with a single tea light, and had thick curtains that could be drawn for...privacy. Scantily-clad girls (and guys) in costume hung from trapeze above the bar. Plush couches circled the stage, ripe for intimate conversation. Our larger-than-life host's hair was shaped into devil horns. A "little person" in a curly blond wig, a 7ft bronze god wearing assless chaps (and twirling 6 hula hoops), and an opera-singing drag queen from New Orleans completed the psycho-sexual circus spectacle.

It was a trip. And definitely not an experience you would EVER have in quiet, quaint Pine Brook, NJ.

What was your first New York moment?