What Do You Wear to The White House?

So, I'm in DC for an event I'm working on at The White House.

Say what?!?

Not A white house.  THE White House.

I'm beside myself. 

I've worked on some very cool events in my day.  Dennis Rodman signing books in a wedding dress.  American Idol tryouts at Giants Stadium with the Travelocity Roaming Gnome.  Proposals at the ice rink in Rockefeller Center. Valentine's Day weddings atop the Empire State Building.  Love stories in a glass truck in Times Square. 

But this one takes the cake. 

It all started over a year ago when our Editor in Chief had an idea to team up with Let's Move for a healthy recipe contest for kids.  Fast forward to this April, when we launched a nationwide search for the best school lunch recipes from every state.  That's where I came in. 

In July, we announced winners from all 50 states, plus DC and 3 territories.  And this weekend we are bringing 54 Junior Chefs, age 8-12, plus a parent, to our nation's capital for 2 days filled with foodie fun.  The cherry on top is lunch at The White House with the First Lady (and a mini concert from a boy band on Nickelodeon that the young people enjoy, called Big Time Rush). 

Just your normal, run-of-the-mill weekend.

Juggling complex travel itineraries and logistics for these events is nothing compared to the biggest thing weighing on my mind right now.

WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO THE WHITE HOUSE???

Oh, the pressure! 

I want my outfit to convey how honored I feel to be there.  I hope to look feminine but authoritative.  I want to be dressy but appropriate for a daytime lunch with kids.  It should be summery but modest.  I need to have some level of comfort so I could spring into action at any moment. And let's not forget, if there's any time -- ever -- in your life to look patriotic, this is IT!

I had 2 outfits already in my closet.  One I've worn to a wedding, one I wear to work.  Meh. 

So I bought a new dress.  Then I bought 2 more.  PLUS 4 pairs of shoes.  (Way to stimulate the economy, Jen.)  I couldn't stop!  I did a fashion show in my apt.  Twice.  And I STILL can't decide, so I brought them all with me.

I turn to you, Trusted Reader.  Please help!

Take a look at what I'm working with and vote below:

poll by twiigs.com

I'll wear whatever you pick for me.  Seriously.  As long as it's one of these outfits.

I hear the lunch will be televised, so tune live in starting at 10am on Monday to watch this super exciting event at The White House. 

And also to see what I wear.  'Cause those 2 things are pretty much on par. 

Wish me luck!!

In the meantime, here's a taste of what's to come:



tags: politics, polls, shopping, travel, work

Your Kind of Town

Some of you reading this already know that my brother and his family are moving to Chicago. Especially if you’re my brother. Or my mom.

For those of you who don’t… my brother and his family are moving to Chicago.

Today.

Well, not Chicago proper, but a friendly suburb along Lake Michigan. Imagine every neighborhood in every John Hughes movie ever. It will be like that.

Sounds amazing, right?

Truthfully, I’m thisclose to becoming a stowaway in their moving truck. Just call me Aunt Hobo.

Words fail me right now. I’ve started twelve different sentences, nothing I write seems to express what’s going through my head and heart. But this would be a short, stupid post if I ended it here, so I’ll give it a shot.

Obviously, this bittersweet. I’ll miss my munchkins like crazy. And our Super Bowl parties. And our taste tests. And our fun and games.

But more than anything, I’m incredibly proud that they had the courage to seize this amazing opportunity that came their way. My brother (like me) has never lived outside of the tri-state area, and my sister-in-law has spent nearly all her life in CT. It’s a giant leap of faith. I know it isn’t easy for them to pack up and move halfway across the country, but once they made the decision to go, everything else seemed to click into place.

That’s how I know they’re on the right track.

I don’t want to get all blubbery here (though all bets are off as I wave goodbye). Instead, as the older sister, I feel I need to prepare them for the MOST important part of their new hometown.

The food!

In our family, food is love. Maybe it’s the same in yours? While I can’t send them off with a giant tray of eggplant parm, I CAN give them a hit-list of the best eats in the Windy City.

Guys, meet Chicago’s 4 major food groups (it’s a good thing you’re not vegetarians – sincerely, you would be ostracized):

1) DEEP DISH PIZZA
Gino’s East
Must Eat: Deep dish cheese and famous crumbled sausage

Lou Malnati's
Must Eat: The Chicago Classic with Buttercrust





2) ALL-BEEF HOT DOGS
Cozy Dog Drive-In
Must Eat: A batter-dipped, fried cozy dog

Superdawg (home of Flaurie and Maurie, 10ft tall leopard-clad weiners)
Must Eat: Whoopskidog Polish sausage and Superonion chips

Poochies
Must Eat: Jumbo char dog with cheddar fries



3) ITALIAN BEEF SANDWICHES
Al’s #1 Italian Beef
Must Eat: Big beef, double dipped in pan gravy

Mr. Beef
Must Eat: Italian beef and sausage combo, topped with giardiniera, a pepper salad



4) GOOD, OLD-FASHIONED STEAKS
Gene & Georgetti
Must Eat: A t-bone and a garbage salad of antipasto and one giant shrimp

Lawry’s Prime Rib
Must Eat: Prime rib and a spinning salad bowl




BONUS MEAT:
Billy Goat Tavern
Must Eat: Cheezeborger, cheezeborger! No fries, cheeps!  No Pepsi, Coke!

Harry Caray’s
Must Eat: Chicken Vesuvio, sautéed in white wine, garlic, and olive oil

Ricobene’s
Must Eat: Breaded steak sandwich with Sunday gravy and mozzarella

Twin Anchors
Must Eat: Baby back ribs with “zesty” BBQ sauce


Hit up these joints, and Chicago will be YOUR kind of town in no time.

Oh, one more thing! On the way in, you may want to swing through Walmart for some elastic-waist pants. Just sayin’…

Safe travels and much love on this great adventure.
xoxo

PS: Anybody know any more amazing Midwestern meat? Add it below, but keep it clean – this is a family post!


tags: family, food, travel

Flight Plan

I’ve taken a bunch of trips over the last month – Los Angeles, Atlanta, and of course, Del Boca Vista. That's over 9K miles flown on Delta, American, United, and my beloved Jet Blue.

All this time in the sky has reminded me how much I love to travel. And how I really need to get my 50 state road trip back on track so my buddy, Jodi, and I can explore another new city.

And, how neurotic I can be.

Surely it can’t come as a surprise that the girl who has a pre-date ritual which involves dumping (clean) undies on her couch, might also pack a few quirks in her carryon…

For instance, I lay everything out 2 days before every trip so I have at least 1 day to remember the things I forgot. Also, I’d sooner ride in the luggage compartment than check a bag.

Ok, that doesn’t sound too bad. Still within the range of normal, right?

Now, run these through your security scanner:

In the Air:

• I require a window seat, because I hate getting up for people
• I am afraid that if I get up and walk around the plane, my weight will throw it off its course and we’ll go down
• I avoid going to the restroom because I fear a change in cabin pressure will suction my ass to the seat
• I avoid talking to the person sitting next to me
• I am incapable of sleeping in public, so I never nap on planes
• I don’t ever drink alcohol in-flight because I feel I need my wits about me at all times
• I never touch the tray or the materials in the seat pocket because I’m convinced they are covered in microscopic fecal matter

In the Hotel Room:

• I immediately strip the bed of blankets, throw pillows, and anything else not regularly washed
• I inspect every inch of the bed and the shower for stray hairs
• I order extra towels, as I require a minimum of 3 bath towels after I shower
• I locate the hairdryer and check the accuracy of the clock on the nightstand
• I grab a glass, but I never drink out of it – I use it to hold my jewelry
• My bare feet never touch the floor. NEVER.
• I disinfect the remote (oh my Lord of the Rings, you do NOT want to know what lurks on those buttons)
• I check the adjoining room lock(s) and flip the latch on my door so no one can ambush me in the middle of the night
• I read the room service menu, even if I’m not ordering, so I know what food I can get in a hunger emergency

These are just the things I'm aware of.  Imagine all the things I don't even know I'm doing! 

So, am I flying solo on this?  Do YOU step off the plane and scrub your skin raw with antibacterial soap and a wire BBQ brush?

Check YOUR travel neuroses below...


tags: travel

On the Roadi: DC Here We Come

For anyone following the 50 state road trip with my buddy, Jodi, you might have noticed that Washington, DC is located no where near New Mexico -- the original next stop on our tour. 

Technically, this is true.  I blame Thanksgiving. 

Apparently, it's not possible to book an inexpensive trip to New Mexico on the most traveled weekend of the year, with 2 weeks advance notice.  Who could possibly know this hidden fact?  (Besides me, who worked for Travelocity for 3 years?) 

Anyone at all?  No? 

Anyway, we had to get to DC eventually, so now is as good a time as any.  We'll be leaving on Friday -- and you should totally come! 

Follow this adventure on our blog or on Twitter.  As I'm sure you won't give a shit that we just ate a coffee cake or spotted a woman who looks just like Newt Gingrich, we promise to stick ONLY to the entertaining high (and low) lights. 

See you on the Beltway!


tags: travel

Fly The Friendly Skies

I flew home from Del Boca Vista today, after spending a long weekend with the 'rents. I head south every other month to take my mom to her dr appointments, and while I wish it were under different circumstances, I love our visits because I miss them a ton.
 
Last time I was in town, back in April, my mom loaded me up with random groceries because she thinks the prices in NYC are too high.  And they are!  But unfortunately, I got stopped by Orlando International Airport Security for smuggling 2 very dangerous substances: Nutella and Laughing Cow Cheese.
 
I’m not joking.
 
They pulled me off the line, rifled through my bag, and confiscated these items. Why? Because cream-like substances can be used to make a bomb.
 
Oh please.
 
If I knew how to make a bomb using a jar of hazelnut spread and 2 wheels of Swiss, I’d take that evil genius and apply it to MUCH more worthwhile pursuits. Like hacking into the Powerball drawing, so I can quit flying commercial.

At the time, I was given 3 options from the humorless attendant:
1) Go back outside and check my bag
2) Throw these perfectly good, unopened items in the trash
3) Eat them on the spot

Let me repeat that last one... EAT them. On the spot.  Like I was just going to pop a squat in the middle of effing security to enjoy a picnic consisting of an entire JAR of Nutella and SIXTEEN wedges of cheese!

Morons.

Pissed, I wound up going with Door #2: The trash bin.  I hope they picked it out after I stormed off and THEY ate it and it gave them diarrhea for days. 

This time, I was traveling without any contraband. I breezed through the black diamond lane, reserved for only the most experienced of frequent flyers. When I got to security, I saw they are now using one of those full body scan machines that caused all that nakedness and radiation uproar over the holidays. Remember that? 

I took my shoes off, and narrowly avoided stepping on a bandaid that was stuck to the rug.  Gross.  Then I was instructed to stand facing the machine with my legs spread apart and my arms in the air for this virtual frisking.

Keep in mind, this is the most action I've had in a looong time.  So the only thought going through my head was: Am I wearing nice undies?  I concentrated to try and mentally feel what kind I had on, but it was impossible.

Try it yourself. Without using your hands. It really can't be done.

Anyway, I passed the test and eventually I boarded the plane. A woman and her lap child were sitting in my seat. 9F. I said, “That’s my seat.” Then I glanced at the 2 other kids sitting next to her, and I immediately offered to take her seat, 9A.

Well, let me just say no good deed goes unpunished...

No sooner do I sit down in the window seat, than a young girl sat down on the aisle. She showed me her seat assignment, 9B (aka the middle).  Said she was saving a seat for her friend, like it’s her spot on the lunchline. Her name was Chanel. I resisted the urge to introduce myself as Gucci.

She looked at me with dead doll eyes and I see she’s in a sorority. I say this not because of her vapid gaze (though that certainly didn’t help), but because of the small purple pillow she was clutching. Stitched to the front were letters I couldn't read. Alpha Delta Pi Phi Sigma. Omega Lambda Beta. Kappa Theta. Epsilon.

(I have no idea if those were her letters, they're just the only Greek letter names I know. And I’m not even really sure about that last one.)

Next, her friend, presumably named Prada, scurried in and sat down -- which would have been fine if that aisle seat didn’t actually belong to anyone. But it did.

Moments later, a dad in a Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food t-shirt, said, “That’s MY seat.”

Doll Eyes filled him in, and he said, “That’s cool.” He seemed down with a trade and strapped himself into 10D, another aisle seat, a row back. Well, that just happened to be the seat of a passive aggressive off-duty flight attendant.

She said, “That’s MY seat.” Papa Bear explained the seat assignment roulette we were playing.  She grunted, and grabbed her tote, accidentally knocking an old lady in the head.

Well, this Granny wasn't having it. And getting smacked upside the noggin did not sit well with her. She began to growl and mumble obscenities, one of which was NOT whippersnappers.

About 5 minutes later our actual flight attendant informed Papa Bear that he’s seated in an extra legroom seat and that'll be $45 bucks, thankyouverymuch. That went over like a fart in church. Mellow Yellow turns beet red. He glares at Chanele and Prada, and insists on a new seat with a regular amount of legroom. He gets 8C, and then settles down.

For now.

The girls in my row were blathering on and on about getting to England. I wondered if they boarded the wrong plane because MY ass was headed back to New York.  Then Chanel tapped me on the shoulder. She asked if I knew how "American text message minutes" convert when traveling overseas. Like unit measurements of time were somehow different across the pond?

I wanted to take their heads and clack them together.

Listen, I'm not trying to be mean.  Really, I'm not.  I’m sure the jello shots and jalapeno poppers at Tipsy’s last night were hella good, but come ON.

We were on the runway waiting for takeoff when Prada got the munchies. She put a bagel directly on the tray table. ON the tray table! No buffer.

I nearly fainted.

Let me just state for the record that there is ZERO chance I would ingest ANYthing that touched an airplane tray table. There is not enough disinfectant on the planet to make that ok.  That thing has more germs than the monkeyhouse at the zoo.

Chanel seemed unfazed. Perhaps they had super immune systems, due to all kegstands and spit-swapping, but I haven’t done that (in years).

Papa Bear was having none of it.  He turned around to inform the girls -- perfect strangers, mind you -- that we hadn't taken off yet, so they shouldn’t be using their tray tables. They flipped him off.

All this drama was suddenly making me hungry too. I spread out a napkin nest on my lap, took a small brown bag out of my purse, and ate a croissant using the bag as a barrier between my breakfast and my potentially dirty hands.

So I'm munching away.  And while I couldn’t feel my underwear, I absolutely COULD feel the giant, flaky hunk of pastry that fell down my shirt and nestled into my cleavage. But rather than fish it out, I decided to save it for later incase I got hungry in the taxi.

It’s not like anyone was going to see my bra at that point. I’d already gotten to 3rd base with the TSA.


tags: travel

On the Roadi: DE Here We Come

And... we're off. 

Come along for the ride!  To join the 1st Roadi trip EVER to Delaware (aka: The First State), check out our blog or follow us on Twitter.

All the cool kids are doing it.  Well, probably not the COOL kids.  More like the kids who have nothing better to do but be online all weekend when the weather's supposed to be nice.  But please, don't let that stop you.

tags: travel

On the Roadi

I recently discovered I've only visited 16 states. 

And I'm not talking a stopover in O'Hare on the way to LAX.  I'm counting states where I've spent at least one night. 

They are: Arizona, California, Connecticut, Florida, Illinois, Massachusetts, Missouri, Nevada, my beloved New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, Texas, Vermont, Virginia, and Washington DC.

That's 16 states (17 if you count DC) in 37 years.  That's kinda lame, no? 

I thought so too.  Which is why I was psyched when my good friend Jodi came up with a brilliant idea to visit all 50 states!  Not all at once, obviously.  We still have jobs.  And lives (well, at least SHE does).  But once or twice a year, we'll visit someplace new in search of adventure. 

This will keep us busy well into old age... just in time to let our wrinkly bikini bodies loose on all the Caribbean Islands.  Thank God for cruise ships, or we'd have to live to be 120.

Anyway, fate will decide the state we visit next, and YOU can follow along on our new blog, On the Roadi with Jen & Jodi.

We'll even be tweeting from the road(i) so we can instantly share the thrill of finding the world's largest frying pan (in Rose Hill, NC), or feel like giants in Tiny World (in Shippensburg, PA), or show our contribution to the Gum Wall (in Seattle, WA), which would be a fitting pit-stop considering how we first became friends nearly 20 years ago.

We're picking our first destination out of a hat on 1/1/11 from Fairfield, CT, where it all began.  I hope you come along for the ride!

So, how many states have YOU visited?  And have any cool tips on places to see and things to do?  Tell me below!


tags: travel, writing

An Open Letter to Commuters

Today was my last day making the commute between CT and NYC. Today, my commute took about 2hrs.

Each way.

Starting on Monday, however, I will go back to an easy breezy 15 minutes. Or 11 blocks. Or 4 songs on the iPod. Any way you slice it, it's a beautiful thing.

And commuting hasn't been cheap! Between rental cars and train tickets, parking lots and gas, getting back and forth to work since I was dumped has cost me $2,545.95. But I needed to get to work, to earn more money, so I could afford to commute, right?

Barf.

Anyway, I haven't used public transportation regularly to get to work in about 5 years. When I lived in the city, I walked, obviously. When I lived in Jersey, I drove (which, mind you, is its own personal brand of Hell -- trying to squeeze all that traffic through the Lincoln Tunnel is like trying to suck a bowling ball through a straw).

So I forgot just how HORRIBLE it is to be packed like sardines on a speeding train with hundreds of strangers.  It's like a smorgasbord of awfulness.

Riding the rails shouldn't be an assault on your senses. But it is. Don't know what I mean? Read on...

SIGHT: Just yesterday, I watched a grown man gnaw his fingernail off and pick his teeth with it. I know. I just threw up in my mouth a little, too. So, commuters, here's a tip: Handle your hygiene at HOME. That means no public nail clipping, nose picking, flossing, or scratching in inappropriate places. I don’t want to see it. Nobody does.

SOUND: Do I need to know that you forgot to thaw out the chicken? Must I hear you discuss the results of your pap smear? Is it really necessary to subject me to the lecture you are giving your teenage son for getting a ANOTHER speeding ticket? I know we're all busy at work and don't always have time during the day to tend to personal matters, but consider the train to be a moving office. If you are not working, chances are, the person next to you probably is, and does not welcome you yammering on your cell phone. So quit it. And please don't talk to me either. You sound like a freak and I'm not as friendly as I look.

TASTE: I totally get grabbing a snack for the ride home. Who doesn't get the munchies? But you shouldn't need to hunker down to a 3-course meal on the train. Somehow, I'm always sitting in the car with the broken air conditioning next to the guy -- or girl -- who is stuffing their face. The food you are eating on the train shouldn't be so pungent that I can taste it. This means no popcorn, no greasy fast food, no drippy bacon egg and cheese sandwiches, no strong-smelling foods of any kind. Try a pretzel. Or if you absolutely MUST consume a meal on the train because your kitchen at home burned down, how about a nice salad? Just don't get a fast food salad. Paying McDonalds (or Wendy's or Burger King) for a salad is like paying a hooker for a hug.

TOUCH: Keep your knees to yourself. Don't let them brush up against mine, and then casually leave them there, waiting for me to notice. Don't put them in between my legs and let them bobble back and forth as the train bounces over the tracks. And don't fall asleep and block me in with them. Don't touch me and I won't passive-aggressively try to trip you on the platform. Deal? Deal.

SMELL: In the morning, professional people should smell like soap, not stink like last night.  I can pick out who chopped onions for dinner, or who was out on a bender and slept in his suit.  Am I psychic?  No, I leave that to Paul.  I know these private things because my nose tells me.  And I don't even know your name.


Yes, navigating amidst the huddled masses is a sensory minefield. The next time you're on the subway, or Metro North, or NJ Transit, or the LIRR, look around. If at least 1 of your 5 senses ISN'T being offended, I will give you $1. But if it IS, you owe me.

I figure at that rate, I'll make back my $2500 in roughly 3 weeks.

So, am I being totally neurotic, or has ANYBODY had a similar experience?  Share them below!

 
tags: city life, gross, travel, work

The Rachel

So I’m down in Del Boca Vista for the holidays visiting my parents, which is great. Except for one thing: I miss my fiancé something awful.

Spending two weeks in the retirement community to end all retirement communities is certainly relaxing (which I need), but it also means I’ve got lots of time on my hands. And a lot of time to miss him. So I’ve been trying to keep busy. Shopping. Cooking. Eating. Decorating. Watching movies. Going swimming. Driving around the neighborhood. Getting my hair cut.

Yep. You heard me right. Getting my hair cut. In Florida. At a retirement community.

Brave? Nah!

I’ve been thinking about getting it chopped for a while. Admittedly, it was overgrown, shaggy, shapeless, lifeless and all-around unflattering. You know, when the split ends are 5 shades lighter than the roots? Pretty. I needed an intervention. But in my defense, I attribute my hair-don’t to the fact that my hairstyle doesn’t require much maintenance. Actually, I'm lying. I don’t even have a hairstyle. I just have hair. And LOTS of it (being from Jersey and all).

My mom and I thought it would be fun to go get our hair done together. So we cheated on her normal salon -- Root 466 -- and made an appointment at a new one closer to my parents’ house. It was called Dimensions, which doesn’t really sound like a salon to me -- frankly, it sounds more like a rehab facility or a special ed program.

But we went with it and got appointments with a stylist named Josephine and the ambiguously-gendered Chris. Going in, I was 95% sure that guy or girl, I was choosing Chris. The name Josephine made me think of a chain-smoking, bourbon-drinking old broad with a hairy chin.

Well, a goateed, gap-toothed man in an embroidered black and white bowling shirt approached us. In the most friendly southern drawl I've ever heard, he said, “Well hey there, gals! My name's Chris!” I immediately turned to my mother and whispered, “I’m rolling the dice with Josephine.”

Call me a snob, I don’t care.

Next, in walks Josephine. And she didn’t have any hairs on her chin at all! She looked normal. Roughly my age. And in the first few minutes, she told me she was from Long Island. Now we’re talking! I decided to be bold and take my hair by the roots: I’m here for a cut, let’s get a CUT!

"Long layers!" I declared, and off we went.

After my scalp took a beating in the shampoo chair and she liberally applied detangler to my mangy locks, Josephine went to town. And by went to town, I mean that by the end, there was more hair on the floor than there was on my head. Seriously. She had to sweep 3 separate times. You know like when Edward Scissorhands is at work and his eyes glaze over and stuff is flying everywhere? Yeah. It was like that.

After almost an hour of snipping and moussing and drying and curling and straightening and spraying (and praying) and balming, she was done. I spun around towards the mirror, not knowing what to expect.

Now, I wasn’t particularly nervous, mind you. My philosophy -- ever since a truly horrendous perm I once got back in the 10th grade -- is that it’s just hair. It grows back.

Anyway, I took a look at the front and the back with that little hand-held mirror thingy. And I actually liked it! Huh?!? Go Josephine!! There was just this one thing. This nagging thought...

I’ve seen this look before.

Anyway, my mom came over and her hair was exactly the same as when we walked into Dimensions. Seems she got an un-cut from Chris (who incidentally was from Arkansas -- is that considered the South? -- I dunno).

We went over to pay and the bill was $64. Naturally, I assumed that was for each of us.

Nope.

It was for BOTH of us! $64 for TWO haircuts. Plus my mom had a $10 gift card from some promotion they did a YEAR AGO. And they honored it! So that’s $54 for two haircuts. Or… $27 PER HAIRCUT. My brain exploded thinking about the cheapness of it all. I don’t even think you can get ONE eyebrow waxed in NYC for $27. Unbelievable! Like a Christmas miracle.

So I literally skip out of the salon, after spending mere pocket change on a haircut I'm loving more and more each minute. I feel 5 lbs lighter. Then it dawns on me, where I’ve seen it before.

It’s The Rachel.

Freaking Josephine from Long Island gave me a 15-year-old haircut! Awesome. I thought about getting annoyed, but for $27, really, who gives a crap?

I just hope my fiancé likes it. And if not… it grows back.

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!

A Tan with a Plan

Did you miss me? I missed you!

SO sorry I’ve been MIA -- it’s been a blur of a month.

A good chunk of July was spent visiting my parents in Del Boca Vista, FL -- aka The Villages -- home to 30,000 crazy retirees off-season, and 70,000(!?!?) in-season. It’s sorta like if Disneyland and Cocoon had a baby. Luckily during this visit I did not receive any unsolicited advice on my love life from well-intentioned, but very VERY wrinkly, strangers.

It was pure relaxation.

Anyway, the #1 mission during my week-long stint as a retiree was to get a tan. And tan I did! Even my feet are tan, which is nice because tan feet are infinitely better than pale feet (also, tan fat is better than pale fat, but I digress).

Now, of course, the challenge is to keep it going without looking like an Oompa Loompa (doopedy doo!).

I know what you’re thinking. Why don’t you just GO OUTSIDE? The answer is… I don’t know.

So, I thought about hitting up a fancy department store for some kind of expensive tanner (I hear Clarins Self Tanning Instant Gel is great). But I don’t actually want to be that much darker -- I just don’t want to get that much lighter. So I decided to give my wallet a break in these troubled economic times and hit up CVS instead. How prudent.

After much deliberation under fluorescent lights that made my new tan look slightly green, I decided to go with Jergens Natural Glow Daily Moisturizer. My thinking was it would serve a dual purpose -- 1) it offered a gradual tan, which should kick in just as my real one was starting to fade, and 2) it would provide a merciful end to the peeling/flaking/leprosy that is now happening all over my body as a direct result of said “real tan.”

As an unexpected bonus, it also claimed to be firming -- and frankly, who among us couldn’t use a little of that?

Of course, my decision was further complicated by the product being offered in a variety of shades. I was unclear which shade to choose (Do I go with my normal skin? Or my tan skin? And why don’t any of them actually LOOK like skin?). So, I wound up buying two -- Medium and Medium Tan -- to be on the safe side. Sneaky sneaky.

The verdict? PU!!

This moisturizer stinks like a sunless tanner. You know that musky rotten molasses smell that’s a dead giveaway? Yeah. So now I stink like fake tan, which isn’t even showing yet, when I actually have a REAL tan.

Awesome.

Has anyone EVER found a self tanner that didn’t stink? And, while we’re on the topic... did anyone catch the news about an Oompa Loompa getting arrested in a shopping mall in FL?

A Night at the Roxbury

Can you fall in love with a motel? If so, consider me smitten.

I spent my Saturday night at The Roxbury. Now, hold on to your head-bob -- this isn’t a creepy dance club.

It IS a sleek, chic, unique and totally magnifique motel in the Catskills, owned by two dear friends, Greg & Joseph. It’s like a little slice of Soho in the country (and I DO mean country, on the way in I passed a livestock auction and an Elk’s Lodge hosting a something called “pan cake brkfst” -- I’m thinking they ran out of vowels).

Anyway, absolutely everyone should pay them a visit (and yes, that means YOU). Here’s why…

The Scenery:
I thoroughly enjoyed the 150-mile ride through winding roads alongside babbling brooks and tree-lined hills. I even spent some quality time with nature -- and I have the muddy navy blue ballet flats to prove it! I can’t really imagine myself visiting in the winter (mainly because I don’t ski -- skiing combines everything I hate: runny noses, freezing cold, and athleticism), but I’m dying to do it all over again in the Fall to see all the amazing colors of changing leaves. And if you do enjoy barreling down a mountain at breakneck speeds, I hear Hunter, Windham, and Bellayre are nearby.

The Décor:
I don’t even know where to begin here. You can look at the beautiful photos on their website, but nothing compares to seeing these rooms firsthand. Each one draws from art, TV, movies, fashion and design from the 60’s and 70’s. But not in a lame Planet Hollywood/Hard Rock Café kind of way. Think more artistic than tchotchkes. Every inch has been carefully curated, every detail lovingly assembled into colors, textures, and themes inspired by The Flintstones, The Jetsons, I Dream of Jeannie (the iconic pink genie bottle bathroom is a showstopper), The Partridge Family, and more. And the mirage doesn’t stop there -- the slick main kitchen and living room, the sparkly Shimmer Spa, the futuristic outdoor green glass fire pit, and the custom light fixtures hanging in the entryways (one of which looks a cross between the ornate glass ceiling art at the Bellagio and the Weight Watcher’s Hungry Monster) -- are like a dream. A very stylish, posh, slightly trippy, orange and lime green dream. Am I booking the genie bottle on my very next visit? Yes, Master!

The Bed:
Sleeping on a cloud doesn’t do this bed justice. It’s more like sleeping on a fluffy marshmallow, on top of a pile of feathers, on top of a puff of air, on top of a bowl of cotton candy, and then, oh yeah, the cloud. Add the 42in flatscreen TV (did I ever tell you I sleep with the TV on?) and it was a little something I like to call, Slumber Heaven. Zzzzzzz.

The Snacks:
You know that main kitchen I mentioned earlier? It’s stocked full of goodies all day long. You’ll find croissants, cinnamon buns, scones, yogurt, and OJ in the morning. Want a little something to nosh on while perusing the DVD library? Try a wasabi peanut. Feeling the chilly mountain air? Warm up with some white chocolate hot cocoa. Need something stronger? There’s wine and bubbly in your mini-fridge, and you can even order a cheese platter, perfect for midnight snacking. What more could a hungry girl (or guy) ask for?

The Hosts:
I was honored to receive the red carpet royal treatment -- I might as well have been wearing a tiara (which, incidentally, they do have on-hand if you are so inclined). But it wasn’t just MY stay that Greg and his staff wanted to make unforgettable -- they went the extra mile for everyone. You’ll never EVER find more thoughtful hosts. Seriously.

In Short:
I am in awe.

It blows my mind that they haven’t been doing this for decades, but the fact is The Roxbury has only been around for 5 years. Greg & Joe gutted a dilapidated strip of efficiency apartments and transformed them into an award-winning oasis. It’s plain to see they are doing what they were born to do. And since they are far too modest to brag about their extraordinary achievements, I’ll do it for them.

Oh, wait. I think I just did!

So, which room would YOU stay in? Take a look and write your favorite(s) in the comments below.

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!

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?

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.