Stick This in Your Stocking

A few months back on my birthday, I said I'd planned to spend gobs of money on silly things. And spend I did! Mainly at Sephora, my all-time favorite place to shop on my bday because the friendly lady behind the counter (who looks like she's hiding a muffin in her hair) always gives me a present.

I've since made my way through all the products you see here, and there were some clear winners. With Hanukkah upon us and Christmas just days away I thought it might be good to share a few sure-fire last-minute stocking stuffers.

First, full disclosure: Each morning, my beauty regimen consists of showering, brushing my teeth, blow-drying my hair until I start to sweat, and quickly sweeping mascara, lip gloss and blush across my face.  That's it. 

Not exactly a major undertaking.  I realize this gives me zero credibility in the beauty review arena.

But I won't let that stop me.

LIPS
I'm obsessed with lip gloss.  I probably apply it 5x per day.  There are no less than 7 featured in this picture.  If you know someone who is equally interested in maintaining a shiny smile, get them this:
>> NARS Lip Gloss in Belize (for nighttime)
>> Lancome Juicy Tubes in Pure (for daytime)
>> Fresh Sugar Lip Balm (for bedtime)

Do NOT get them this: Crest White Strips. 

HAIR
I'm obsessed with smooth hair.  I never need to check the weather, all I do is look in the mirror -- humidity is the enemy to every follicle on my thick head.  The only hairs that can resist puffing up are the wiry gray ones and I pluck those out so I can maintain my youthful facade.  If you know someone who likes smooth, nice-smelling hair too, get them this:
>> Frederic Fekkai Glossing Shampoo & Conditioner
>> Moroccan Oil Hydrating Styling Cream

Do NOT get them this: a haircut

FRAGRANCE 
I'm obsessed with finding a perfume I don't hate.  You may recall my quest to find a scent.  I've finally found something I like.  No, LOVE.  It's a famous fragrance, but try to forget that and just breathe in the beachy-goodness.  If you know someone who isn't ashamed to smell like a celebrity, get them this: 
>> Jennifer Aniston (I say this with 100% non-irony.  Smell it.  Trust me.) 
 
Do NOT get them this: Snooki for Women by Nicole Polizzi
 
 
 
When you think of splurging on someone special, you might be tempted to give a gift certificate to a spa for a mani-pedi or a massage. This would be the WORST possible gift someone could get me.  The thought of being kneaded like pizza dough by a judgemental stranger gives me hives. 
 
If your loved one is as neurotic as I am (as if that is even in the realm of possibility), she might enjoy one or all of the products above.  No unwanted touching required.
 
And don't forget to treat yourself!  Whoever said it is better to give than to receive was doing it wrong. 
 
Stuff the comments below with YOUR stocking goodies...
 
 
tags: beauty, holidays, shopping

Can You Hear Me Now?

They say good things come to those who wait.

So, I waited. And waited, and waited, and waaaaiiiiiittted. Then the glorious day came: 02/03/11.

(think Steve Jobs reads my blog?)

Not one to mess around with something so critically important, I'm unashamed to admit that I set my alarm so I could wake up exactly at 3am last Thursday to be one of the first to purchase a Verizon iPhone. It also happened to be my half birthday, and since my full birthday was such crap, this was a happy coincidence.

I didn’t even hit snooze!

Of course, you’d expect nothing less from a #1 fan. And apparently, I wasn’t alone. It’s estimated that over 500K existing Verizon customers purchased the iPhone 4 in the first 17 hours it was available. They had to shut it down because of excessive demand. It’s already the most successful Verizon launch ever -- and it’s not even available in stores. Yet.

Well, I’m thrilled to report that at long last… the Eagle. Has. Landed. Wooohoooo!

It’s like Christmas all over again. But a zillion times better. And I have to say, the whole process couldn’t have gone smoother (more smoothly? Eh, whatever.). I’m totally impressed by the site they set up to handle orders. I logged right on, it recognized me and my pitiful Razr, AND it automatically had my $50 credit listed.

If you listened closely, you could hear a siren go off at VZW headquarters when they saw I finally redeemed it. I’ve been out of contract for YEARS.

Then, I tracked that package like Linda Church tracks a storm.

The National Weather Service has got nothing on me. Origin scan in West Chester, PA! Pack your patience, it just departed Philly!! Arrived in Saddle Brook, NJ!!! Don’t forget the umbrella -- it’s out for delivery from Long Island City!!!!

My doorman signed for it at 5:35 last night. Heaven. And when I got my hot little hands on it after work, all I had to do was sync it with iTunes to activate. No annoying calls to a toll-free number, or worse, having to visit the store to do it in-person. It even came fully charged! Within minutes, I was up and running.

Even the Jetsons never thought of anything this cool. And they could fly.

Oh, the future is now, my friends.

If I could only figure out how to blog from it, I would have. Instead, I sent what I thought was an email (but turns out was actually a text message) to my brother and sister-in-law. I feel like the cavemen must have felt when they discovered fire.

Ahhhh, pretty! But don’t get crazy or you’ll burn your eyebrows off.

I can’t wait to discover everything this new phone can do. As you know, my old cell phone and my iPod were the last remaining connections to my relationship. On the phone were almost a thousand text messages he sent me over the course of our year together, dozens of photos he took, and 2 of his phone numbers. I didn’t have the heart to delete them, mainly because I didn’t have the stomach to go through them. Too much to re-live.

On the iPod were hundreds of songs -- our Infinite Playlist. I used to listen to those songs each day and think of us and our future. Since we broke up, every time one crept into the mix, I couldn’t skip to the next song fast enough. It was like a horrible game of Name That Tune. “I can start bawling in six notes, George.”

I wonder if there’s an app for that?

Anyway, what I love most about this new phone is it’s really a new beginning. I have now checked everything off my list. All ties are cut. I guess it’s taken me this long to finally say goodbye… by saying hello.

So, cheers to new beginnings. And btw there IS an app for that.

What else should I download? Is Angry Birds worth the hype? Enlighten me below.


tags: pop culture, shopping

The Land of Make Believe

Let me get this straight: I’m now a tasty crab instead of King of the Jungle?

What’s next? Am I adopted too?

I don’t even know the characteristics of Cancer, because I’m too self-absorbed to find out (a classic Leo trait).

I refuse to let myself get worked up about this new zodiac sign, Ophiuchus. As far as I’m concerned, it does not exist. The gods have NOT spoken. Especially since nobody knows how to pronounce this new word.

The reasons to ignore the existence of the mysterious 13th sign are obvious.

First off, the guy who dropped this astronomical bomb last week, is named Kunkle. That just seems made up to me. Parke Kunkle can pry a Leo horoscope reading from my cold, dead hand (being dramatic is Leo's domain too). Second, someone needs to fire the astrological naming committee because this new sign sounds like a disease -- “Oh, he’s got the Ophiuchus again, don’t let him use your Chapstick.” Third, this is not new news. Apparently, this sign has ALWAYS been jammed in there, if you followed Eastern astrology.

But we don’t.

Now, if you told me the almighty Oprah, an Aquarius, has grown so awesomely powerful that she’s created her own zodiac sign, I would believe that more. But back in reality, we’ve got 12 months, and 12 signs. Period. I was a Leo yesterday, I am a Leo today, and I will be a Leo tomorrow (loyalty, incidentally, is right in Leo's wheelhouse).

It reminds me of a few years back when they announced Pluto wasn’t a planet anymore. Sorry. You can’t just demote a planet. Didn’t they know the saying? My Very Eager Mother Just Served Us Nine… nothings? Um, nooo… it’s Nine Pizzas! You know it, I know it, and every 9th grader in Earth Science knows it too.

I wish people would realize that there’s a difference between an invention/discovery and flat-out make believe.

For example, if someone made a bag of chips with a flat bottom that could also double as a bowl for easy snacking? Now, THAT would be an invention, and a damn good one (if you're listening, Frito Lay, please ditch the noisy Sun Chips bag for this gem).

But changing well-established facts? That’s just a waste of time.

And while we’re on the topic, can the fashion industry please chill out too?

Skinny jeans are a known entity.  They are pants made of denim that are tight-fitting. But jeggings are the wannabes of the pants family.  They are jeans with tons of stretchy lycra baked in so people, like me, who are too fat for skinny jeans can still squeeze into the party. And Pajama Jeans are not jeans at all -- they are jean-colored sweatpants and a total abomination.

Let’s also agree that ankle boots are simply shoes that cover your whole foot and ankle. They are not called "shooties," a cutesy name derived from combining shoes and booties. Or "bootines" (I don't think anyone knows what two words were combined for this one). And don't get me started on the Snuggie, which is nothing but a flimsy backwards robe.

In general, let’s quit making shit up.

But don’t let me be the boss of you (like the Leo that I am). Do you disagree? Or see anything missing? Add it below!


tags: pop culture, shopping

Dear Steve Jobs,

There’s a lot going on in the world these days. 100,000 fish just dropped dead in Arkansas. Australia is under water. Snowmageddon paralyzed the whole eastern seaboard last week. Brad Womack is back as the Bachelor.

But I’m laser-focused on one thing: Verizon getting the iPhone.

I check the news daily and I read discussion boards I don’t really even understand, desperately searching for kernels of information, rumors, whispers, and other assorted propaganda. I’ve asked sweet baby Jesus. I’ve asked Santa Claus. And now I’m asking you…

When are you releasing a Verzon iPhone?

I know you handed over the iPad. It's not enough. I need the phone. Just give me a date! We all know it’s coming! But WHEN?? I can’t wait much longer.

Do you SEE the ridiculous junk I’m still carrying in the hopes that my dream phone is right around the corner? It might as well be a tin can and a string.

I bought my Motorola Razr like 6 YEARS ago because I saw it on Entourage and thought it was cool. Even Johnny Drama has moved on by now! And don’t even get me started on my iPod. It belongs in a museum at this point. Plus the battery dies whenever it’s cold outside.

Like now.


It’s not right to make me suffer this way!

Verizon telemarketers don’t even bother to call me anymore to upgrade. Even THEY think I am a lost cause and they have horribly low standards. I see their flashy commercials, but I am not tempted. Incredible?  Ha!  I say Droid Schmoid. I’m holding out for the iPhone. And only YOU can make that happen.

I long for the day that I can download useless apps. I vow to cherish every swipe of my shiny new iTunes library. And I will honor my awesome video chat capabilities by putting on lip gloss before every single call I make.  That's a promise.

I will, in fact, marry my Verizon iPhone.

You know, the Consumer Electronics Expo starts on Thursday. Might that be a convenient time for you to steal the spotlight with this exciting news? I hear Verizon’s CEO is a keynote speaker. I’m sure he’d share the mic with you. Maybe give him a call. From your iPhone.

Otherwise, I think your birthday is coming up. Please, please, please take pity and give yourself the gift of ME. And roughly 90MM other Verizon Wireless customers.

But mostly, me.

iThank you for your time,
Your #1 Verizon iPhone Fan

 
tags: pop culture, shopping

5 Reasons I’m Confused by Eataly

When I want authentic Italian food, I just go to the Olive Garden.

I kid!

It’s no secret that I love to cook -- and eat -- Italian food. It takes me back to my roots. Well, at least half of my roots. So obviously, when I heard about Eataly, Mario Batali & Lidia Bastianich’s artisanal marketplace/upscale eatery, modeled after a shop that started in Torino, Italy, I needed to check it out for myself.

Eataly opened at the end of August in the Flatiron district, right across from Madison Square Park. One of my absolute fave restaurants in the city is Otto, another Batali hot-spot, so I waited for the buzz to die down a bit and I booked a trip.

Passport not required.

Sadly, I haven’t been to Italy yet, though my friends and I have recently made a pact to go for our 40th bdays (which, for the record, won’t be until 2013). We’ll be on a quest to eat and drink our way down the boot. Yum. But when we go, I really hope it’s nothing like this. Eataly is total sensory overload.

After spending almost an hour and a half to buy 13 items, I was left with the distinct feeling that this Epcot international pavilion-on-steroids wasn’t really for locals. It felt more like a money-pit for tourists. I guess they are trying to be authentic, but alongside an ATM from a bank that I assume only exists in Italy, are kitschy things like day-glo orange Crocs.

Just like grandma used to wear.

Anyway, I really enjoyed the honey, prosciutto, sopressata, taleggio, and sun-dried tomato pesto sandwich I made for lunch. So much so, that I made a second sandwich with the left-overs the next day. But the handmade thin spaghetti and jarred marinara sauce, topped with basil and freshly-grated parmigano reggiano that I made for dinner was just... ok.

Eh. No great shakes.

I hadn’t planned to get jar tomato sauce. I was expecting something homemade. Fresh. But it was really the only thing they sold. Kind of a head-scratcher, no?

Here are 5 more things about Eataly that just confused me:

1) Traffic Flow: This place would be great if there were no people inside. Everyone here looks lost and annoyed. Including the staff. Eataly could actually learn something from Ikea with their one-way aisles that force you through all the departments in the store with clearly marked paths. Or maybe they need an Italian cowboy to wrangle the herd. Because it’s total chaos in there. BUT on the upside, if an assassin is on your tail, and you need to lose him/her quickly, just get swept into this maze and sail away to sweet freedom.

2) Atmosphere: Would it kill them to get me in the mood with some music or something? If there was any, I couldn’t hear it over the hustle-bustle. I can’t imagine coming here to have a romantic dinner, or any dinner, for that matter, in their 7 mini-restaurants & cafes. I mean, who thought it was a good idea to scatter random tables inside a grocery store? But if you did eat here, I think it would elicit the same warm comfort you’d expect from a prison cafeteria. You’d be jostled and smacked in the head with a tray, while hungry people stuck in undisciplined lines secretly whittle a shiv in the hopes it will land them in solitary confinement, and out of this over-crowded hellhole.

3) Product Names: There’s a dizzying array of interesting products on the shelves, but someone should remind them that Eataly is located in America. We don’t read Italian. So it might make sense to slap some labels on the shelves to help dummies like me translate the food I bought. Because apparently, a log-shaped white cheese with a goat on the wrapper isn’t goat cheese. Go figure.

4) Prepared Foods: Here’s an idea… have some! Not everybody feels like waiting on 7 lines to buy 7 ingredients, only to go home and cook them all. Some people like to just heat and eat. Is the “vegetable butcher” who can take the time to cut your veggies to order, then too busy to box them up into a mixed green salad? Or what harm could it do to make a lasagna bolognese, slice it up into chunks, and charge $14 a serving? Somehow, I think they could swing it.

5) Sweets to Go: This was the most disappointing area of all. I was hoping to take home something sweet -- a pint of gelato, a cannoli, tiramisu. Or maybe all three! But I went home empty-handed in the dessert department because the only treats they had looked like they were meant to be consumed in the congested store. No thanks. So I wound up ending my meal with a jar of Nutella (that I already had in my pantry) and a spoon, which honestly was the most heavenly thing I ate all day.


As I was leaving, I heard somebody on the sidewalk call this place "Shitaly."

I wouldn’t go that far, but the whole experience was pretty disappointing. I found myself racing through the store, elbowing into people, like I was playing Supermarket Sweep. Except I couldn’t move very fast and I had to pay the bill at the end, which, incidentally, came to a whopping $102.31. For 2 sandwiches and 3 bowls of pasta. That I made myself.

It reminded me of online dating. What seemed great in pictures was a letdown in real life.

Maybe I’m missing the mystique. I’ve been off the market for a while. If you’ve been to Eataly and you two hit it off, tell me about it below!


tags: city life, food, shopping

But Wait... There's More

As I was saying before I was distracted by public urination, when I was in Florida I watched a good amount of late night infomercials. It seems EVERY 80s supermodel has been busy in the lab formulating their own face creams and/or exercise equipment and/or hair products. And every popstar is plagued with acne.

But you cannot avoid the omni-present Snuggie.

I couldn’t help but notice this blanket cult is now singlehandedly trying to resurrect the Macarena. I hated that song when I was in Mexico on spring break in 1995, and I don’t like it any better now with the words changed up. Heeey get a Snuggie!

Get out of my head.

In their quest for world domination, they will not rest until we are all roaming the earth in these flimsy backwards robes. Do yourself a favor and look away when the commercial comes on, or you too will be sucked into their vortex. Heeeeeeeey get a Snuggie!

You never know what brilliant discovery you’ll find on TV. Recall the time I bought a ham at 2am? In the cavernous void left by bearded Billy Mays, several new pitchmen have arisen and joined the mission to separate me from my hard-earned dollars.

Damn them and their persuasiveness!

Here are my current television temptations:

TV Hat: How do I not own this? Let me thank the guy (and yes, I said guy -- one glance and you know this goofy facemask was NOT designed by a woman) who Gorilla-glued a plastic pouch to the brim of a rather large hat so I could slip my “digital MP3 player” in and feel like I’m inside my own hands-free personal theater. The “privacy shade” does makes your face look like it’s stuck in a shoebox, so it’s not for the claustrophobic. But they must be popular because they are all sold out of the color “Camo.” I guess I won’t be blending in with the wildlife while I watch Gossip Girl in the woods. Let’s just hope it gets better reception than my radio underpants.

Heel Tastic: In watching this one, I learned that some people actually need to groom their feet with a belt-sander. That’s rough! Now, my feet are not so crusty and jagged that they pop balloons or tear holes through nylons, but I’m fascinated by this soothing roll-on balm. They attribute the baby-softness to “natural Neem and Karanja oils.” A quick googling tells me Neem is a vegetable oil that smells strongly of peanuts and garlic. So, really, who’s to say if your feet are smooth or rough? They will stink so no one will want to go near them. Because feet are gross. Evil genius.

Blo & Go: How did they know I’ve been struggling with my blow-dryer? My arms get SO tired. I often think, my hair would look amazing if only I had another set of hands. OR a wall-mounted suction cup from which to hang my dryer! That would be like getting a salon-quality blowout right in my own bathroom. Well, my prayers have been answered. And no worries about it crashing to the floor from the sheer force of the blow, because this gadget comes with a sleek black bungee cord to keep that sucker sturdy. They’ve literally thought of everything. I’m going to look awesome.

Pasta Boat: I remember making lasagna once and shouting an f-bomb for every slimy noodle I fished out of a boiling pot of water. True story.  They were so freaking hot. Now, if I’d only had one of these babies, I could have microwaved, drained and served dinner in minutes AND not have frightened the neighbors! Chubby Cathy Mitchell makes it look so easy. Who needs my Italian mom’s recipes? Can you say free full-color recipe booklet? Plus, if I order now, she’ll cut the price in half. Kathy’s good like that. But wait… there’s more! She’ll DOUBLE my order AND throw in a bonus food chopper. It’s an offer I simply cannot refuse.


Even when I’m not sleep-deprived, I think it would be fun to own the 4 products above. But you totally have my permission to steal my wallet, drop it in a bucket of water, and stick it in the deep-freeze it if ever order the Chillow, Spray-on Nylons, or the Butler Toilet.

Friends don't let friends buy random useless crap alone.  Have YOU ever ordered anything you saw on TV?


tags: commercials, pop culture, shopping

Presto-Change-O

I'm in a funk. You know it. I know it. We ALL know it.

I need a change.

About 2 weeks ago, I started the painful process of cancelling our wedding gift registries (more on that below). Nobody wanted their actual gifts back (bad mojo, no doubt), so I kept those. I left some new things behind at his condo -- a BBQ grill, margarita maker, bucket of cookie cutters, everyday dishes. They were all things I'd purchased off our registry myself. For us. And I didn't want to keep the items when I couldn't keep the family I bought them for.

I mean, who wants to sit at home alone and hunker down to a flame-broiled breakup burger on breakup dishes, washed down with a breakup-flavored margarita, followed by a couple of fresh-baked breakup cookies for dessert? No thanks.

The one thing I did return was our china. I adored the pattern. LOVED it. Something totally different, mix and match. Cheerful. Classic. Unique. He swore we would never use it, but I pictured us having holiday dinners and celebrations on these plates for years to come. I had two full place settings (down to the bread and butter plates), and a coffee/tea set from my parents. I hated to do it, but since I will never complete the service for 12, I brought them back to the store and turned my beautiful china into a $400 Coach bag.

Like magic.

That got me to thinking... there are other things I'd like to change over the next few weeks.

Here's my hit list:

1) New cell phone

Mine might as well have his face on it. Every time it rang, buzzed, or dinged, it was generally him. And every time I hear it go off now, it makes me sad because it's anybody BUT him. So I think it's finally time to make the switch. Goodbye Verizon. Hello iPhone.

2) New hair

I used to highlight my hair, but I left it darker lately because I liked the way it looked with his hair. We matched. Ridiculous, I know. So I'm booking a trip to the salon for some summery locks.

3) New ring

One of my best friends bought me a new ring the day I moved my furniture out of his condo. It was to replace the one I "lost," she said, and to remind me to keep my heart open. It was such a touching gesture. For Christmas, I'd given him a man's ring that I used to wear and I'd engraved it with our initials -- I think I'll replace that one too. Possibly with something sparkly.

4) New color palette

My whole house was beiges/browns with bright pops of red. And while all of my stuff sits in storage right now, when I DO eventually unpack, I know I'll need something more soothing than red. Something fresh. Serene. Thinking pale blues and greens.

5) New curtains

These were a HUGE point of contention in the weeks leading into our breakup. Don't ask. I need to set them on fire and start again. Anybody got a match?

6) And obviously, the biggest thing I need is a new address

As comforting as it is to have family willing to take me in, I can't really start to feel like myself again until I'm back in my own home.

Now if only someone would perform a magic trick on my bank account, I could actually BUY all of these things right now.

I didn't invent this concept. A colleague at work said when she broke up with her boyfriend, she went right out and bought a pair of 3-inch heels, after wearing flats for years because he was short. Another friend's sister sold her never-worn wedding dress on eBay and took a vacation.

I think we all need a little magic in times like these. Something new to distract us from what (or who) is no longer there.

It's all an illusion anyway.

And on a side note, if you are ever in the unfortunate position of having to cancel a wedding gift registry, I can say Macy's was incredibly good to deal with, Crate & Barrel was ok, and Bed Bath & Beyond was beyond horrible -- after the in-store people couldn't help me, the customer service agent on the phone had the nerve to ask if I was sure I wanted to cancel, just incase we got back together. Ummm... GFY BBB.

And since Wedding Channel posts your information all over the internet without respect to your privacy and then goes out of its way to make it difficult to contact them when you want to take it down, here's their phone number as well: 877-335-5252.

Thanks, Google. You're pretty magical too.

Dear Santa...

As I type this, you are in Pittsburgh. At least, according to NORAD.

And I know that I’ve already received the ultimate Christmas gift. His name is Justin. But I have been very, very good this year. So just in case you are feeling ultra generous, here are 12 things I wouldn’t mind finding under my tree when I wake.

For your convenience, I've listed them in price order. Not that money should matter to a man with elves...

-- A Big Top Cupcake Maker (got it already, one down!)
-- A Starring Role in a Classic Novel ($25.50)
-- The World’s Largest Gummy Bear ($29.99)
-- A Pair of Feety Pajamas ($44.99)
-- An iPhone on Verizon (make it happen!)
-- A Subscription to the Bacon of the Month Club ($575.95)
-- An Arts & Crafts Closet ($1,301.36)
-- The Backyard Blizzard Snowmaking Machine ($2,689.00)
-- A Trip for Two to Learn to Cook in Tuscany ($5,590.00)
-- A Zoltar Fortune Telling Machine ($8,999.95)
-- A Cupcake Car ($25,000.00)
-- The World’s Largest TV ($149,000.00)

So… I think that’s about it. Until next year.

Merry Christmas & enjoy the cookies (homemade, just for you!),
Jenny

I Love New York (Sorta)

Sorry I haven’t blogged in a while. I’m still adjusting to the end of daylight savings time.

Yesterday, I got in a taxi and the driver wasn't talking on the phone, or driving as though we were the getaway car in a bank robbery. In fact, he was a good driver, and I didn't get car sick AT ALL.

How refreshing!

It’s moments like that when I think I love New York. Or maybe, it’s more accurate to say I’ve LEARNED to love it. But it wasn’t easy! To me, the city is an acquired taste, like stout or stinky cheese.

I was born in the Bronx and lived there for almost 6 years as a kid, but I really grew up in Jersey, and I went to college in Connecticut but came back to The Apple to work, and I've spent my whole career here.  These are the things I’ve learned NOT to do in the City, which has made my time living here as an adult (16 months and counting) much more enjoyable.

Consider it a public service...

Don’t… Eat Street Meat
Don’t get me wrong, I love junk food (Bloomy does too!). But consuming anything known as a “dirty water dog” is a no-no in my book. Nevermind the stale pretzels, giant clumps of crusty peanuts, and drippy gyros (since when is meat gray?). I don’t care how famished you are, either keep walking, or invest in a stomach pump.

Don’t… Eat at a Chain Restaurant
Look, I like a Fridays, or a California Pizza Kitchen, or a Chevys just as much as the next guy. But there are a bazillion amazing eateries in the Big Apple. So why would anyone EVER eat at the Olive Garden in the middle of Times Square? Everything costs 3x more here than it does in your hometown, and it is probably one of the least authentic NY eating experiences you can have. For the true flavor of the city, you’re better off with street meat -- that’s saying a lot!

Don’t… Eat at The View (that spinning restaurant atop the Marriott Marquis)
Maybe they think you’ll be so distracted by the skyline (look, it’s a tall building, oh WAIT… it’s… ANOTHER tall building!) you won’t notice your $50 rubber chicken. Talk about a tourist trap. Oh, and the same kinda goes for the bedazzled spectacle (eyesore?) that is Tavern on the Green. Well, maybe just go one time, but try to hit up a holiday buffet, so that you can really get your money’s worth by eating your weight in chicken fingers. But hurry, they're closing fast!

Don’t… Wait on Line at a Restaurant
I like to EAT in restaurants, not stand in them. So if I haven’t made reservations, I don’t go. Simple as that. NY is too big, and there are too many eateries (many of which serve the exact same things) to justify waiting on line for a table. Period.

Don’t… Bother with the Empire State Building
Speaking of waiting in lines, if that's your idea of a good time, then go here. There are 5 different lines you’ll need to wait on to get to the top, then you’ll stand on a skinny balcony and look around for 5 minutes, then wait on a few more lines to get back down to civilization. Save yourself 2 hours, stand really close to your TV, and watch the end of Sleepless in Seattle instead.

Don’t… Shop at Century 21
For more years than I care to admit, when I heard people refer to this discount shopping destination, I thought they were talking about the real estate company. You know the one. With the gold jackets. Well, finally, I put 2+2 together, and went. Personally, I’d rather not elbow my way through an angry crowd of aggressive tourists/bargain hunters just to purchase a picked over, wrinkled, semi-defective designer blouse with a weird buckle on the side. Even if it is $15.99. So, thanks, but no thanks.

Don’t… Shop at Any Store Claiming to Be “Going Out of Business”
Whether it’s electronics or shoes or cornflakes, merchandise in New York City is already marked up super high. So the “sale” price likely just gets you even with the full price at a store in your hometown. Skip it.

Don’t… Take a Pedi-Cab Anywhere
Unless you want a sweaty teenager to take your wallet for a ride (or you like darting in and out of oncoming traffic like your own personal game of Frogger), skip this death wish disguised as public transportation. On a related note, skip the horse-drawn carriage rides in Central Park. The old horses will make you sad, and the dirty looks you get from real New Yorkers will make you want to crawl underneath the public blanket they supply for your “comfort” (but never wash). Wrong on all counts.

Don’t… Keep a Car in the City
I miss my car. I miss my car. I MISS MY CAR. But a car in the city is a luxury you want no part of. When I commuted in, I was paying $510/month for a garage. Um, hellooo? Street parking is no treat either -- who can figure out those signs? And don’t even get me started on the damage to your bumpers, doors, side mirrors, tires, etc. So plan to ditch the wheels unless you enjoy turning your car into a clunker.

And Finally, Don’t… Take the Subway
Forget that the subway is an underground haven for perverts. Nevermind that every platform stinks like hot garbage. Disregard the giant rats that scurry beneath the tracks. Excuse the fact that the voices over the loudspeakers make Charlie Brown's teacher sound articulate. Avert your eyes from the advertisements when you are actually ON the train (assuming it wasn’t cancelled, delayed, or re-routed), because you do not want to read the colorful commentary provided by fellow straphangers. And don’t even THINK about the cootie colonies that thrive on the poles you are supposed to hold on to for “safety.” Actually… don’t forget ANY of these things -- they are precisely why the best way to get around NYC is on your own two feet.

So, am I allergic to NYC, or have I just written the 10 Commandments for City Life? Tell me what YOU think below!

As Seen on TV

Did I ever tell you about the time I bought a ham at 2am?

I saw it on TV, late one night, a few weeks before Easter. It was the most delicious-looking spiral-sliced hunk’o’heaven I’d ever seen. It was like meat porn, courtesy of the Honey Baked Ham Company. Before I could say oink, I was calling their toll-free number, wallet in hand -- while the “Operator Standing By” sweet-talked me into adding biscuits to my order.

My point is, I am a consumer at heart -- always have been. Maybe that’s why I’m in marketing. I’m a sucker for a good ad. And sometimes a bad one. I mean, who buys TV hams at 2am?! But knowing me, as you do, you will not be surprised to hear that when my unbridled consumerism meets my television obsession, the result is a truly explosive combination.

The “As Seen on TV” phenomenon probably started with The Clapper. Now, I never bought a Clapper (probably because I was, like, 12), but don’t think for a second that I wasn’t tempted! And while some products are just plain weird -- like that plastic case that helps you clean your baseball caps in the dishwasher -- others seem worth every penny, plus S+H.

So beware burly UPS guy -- here’s a few irresistible items that you just might be bringing to my door...

The Slap Chop: “Stop having boring tuna,” enthusiastic pitchman, Vince, shouts. “Stop having a boring life!” Oh Vince, you know me so well. This is basically a low-tech Magic Bullet, so you can still eat when the power goes out. But who doesn’t dream of chopping nuts in a slap? I want to make salsa with one finger. And for me, “Graty,” the sidekick cheese grater, just seals the deal.

The Big City Slider Station: Billy Mays, of the Oxi-Clean fame, is the slick salesman behind the Slider Station. You can scoop and smash your way to 5 mini burgers cooked at once, without all that pesky flipping (which, incidentally, is made to look SO difficult, it’s a wonder every burger ever made didn’t first fall on the floor). Bottom line: Small foods make you feel like a giant and are fun to eat.

The Snuggie (or its more expensive cousin, The Slanket): It’s a blanket with sleeves! Or… a backwards robe. But I AM always cold. And it IS difficult to read a book when my hands are “trapped inside” an ordinary blanket. You just have to be careful what color you choose. Maroon makes you look like a monk, blue like a wizard.

Smooth Away: I’m not sure why anyone would want to remove all the hair on their arms (better to let sleeping dogs lie). But as someone who once bought the feminine torture device known as the Epilady, and watched in horror as its metal coils ripped out every other hair on my leg, buffing away unwanted hair with superfine crystals sounds pretty benign. My only question is, do you get a rash from all the rubbing?

ShamWow! : Do I really waste $20 a month on paper towels? If Vince says so, it must be true. He also says this cottony little rag holds 20x its weight in liquid. And I get eight of them! That last for 10 years! So not only can I spill an entire 2-liter bottle of soda on my rug, I’m also helping save the Earth. Sounds awe-sham.

Now I’m not great at the whole self-control thing. So if I ever order the unbelievably ugly Buxton Organizer or the Shuffles Shoe Mop (“Clean while you walk!”, says friendly Englishman, Anthony Sullivan), please confiscate all my credit cards. Checkbook too, just to be safe.

Have bearded Billy Mays and his cohorts ever wooed you? Do tell below!

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??)