Next time I'll ask to borrow a cup of sugar

There’s a guy in our building who we have deemed “hot guy” for obvious and superficial reasons. He exudes the tall, dark and handsome ivy-league banker vibe. He also smokes and may or may not have a lady friend, which is why we admire him from a safe distance of three floors. No amount of good looks can cover up those two red-flags, we have enough good sense between the three of us to know that much at least. Look but don’t touch.

It never fails that one or a combination of the three of us always sees Hot Guy when we are either just waking up and running out on a quick errand, carrying arms full of groceries or pizza boxes, coming home sweaty and gross from the gym or the park, or in any other state of unawares the universe can come up with.

Usually makeup-less un-showered, un-manicured and unfit for public exposure. Pretty much any girl’s nightmare when seeing a guy she doesn't know very well.

I was on the phone walking home from work and the gym the other night, when I spied Hot Guy walking 10 paces in front of me. “Perfect,” I thought as I admired him in his gray pinstripe suit, “he won’t see me THIS time.”

As he rounded the corner to our walk-up, I kept moving to the next block to pick up my laundry. Enjoying the fact that it was Friday and that I had avoided another unappealing run-in with Hot Guy, I was dumbfounded when no sooner had I pulled out my keys in front of my front door than I saw the very same polished black loafers I had been admiring staring back at me on my front steps.

Slowly looking up at the face I already knew I would see, all I could do was smile half-heartedly, gulp in the most lady-like way possible, and say my usual, groundbreaking “hi”. He smiled his usual bad-boy banker smile, returned the pleasantry, and still in his suit he stepped down the stairs to have a cigarette. Typical.

Also typical that when we left the apartment a few hours later, dressed exceptionally well to meet friends down on the LES for dinner, he was nowhere to be found.

I think we’re all convinced he would not recognize us fresh-faced in the morning, hair blown-out and ready to conquer another day at the office, or under any other circumstance under which we would otherwise look presentable.

Life would be way too easy if that were the case.

"Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously.... Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."
-Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, 1811

Shoe fly

None of us are talkative in the mornings. We wake up in sequence and get ready for another day at work with VH1 playing in the background and we go our separate ways (or our together ways, if you're KR and I).

It was completely out of the ordinary, then, when KR screamed after putting her English muffin in the toaster this morning. Was there something wrong? A broken glass? Mold on the muffin? Pigeon attack? (All things that have happened before).

Nope. It was an insect. A disgusting water bug/roach- undoubtedly sent to plague us all.

The little guy was legs-up in the sink, and had all the appearance of death around him, so we left him there until it was time to leave. No sooner had the excitement of bug #1 died down, than bug #2 was discovered. Another scream, another commotion- this time in the bathroom.

I never saw him, but I'm sure he was gross as well. He was described as a centipede with invisible legs. Terrifying.

I was elected by default to deal with bug #1, and I thought it would be fairly painless, since he was dead and all.

Nope, not dead. He was very much alive. KR offered the same heel of her shoe that we previously used to assemble furniture before we had tools- but the idea of a smashed, dead roach in the kitchen sink sounded particularly unappetizing, so we had to come up with a Plan B.

I trapped him under a glass as he scurried around the sink, slid a napkin underneath to make him portable, and flushed him, which was met with another scream from KR as we speculated as to whether or not he could swim.

This is what happens when the weather gets warmer, so we'll just have to regulate, and by regulate, I mean perform insect genocide within the confines of our apartment.

I'm fine with nature, as long as it stays outside. AV is the one who sleeps next to the open window at night, so if any animal comes to attack I'm confident it will get her first. This helps me sleep at night.

Mosquito: "Hey bartender! Bloody Mary, O-Positive."
-'A Bug's Life'

Allergy season never looked so good

Photos from the game:



The weather this past weekend restored New York in the eyes of New Yorkers… or maybe just Texans up North.

Either way, we finally had a weekend of nice weather, and by ‘nice’ I mean I didn’t have to wear a coat the whole time. It also meant I could visually see the particles in the air that are causing both AV and KR to sneeze and get sinus headaches. Driftwood, cottonwood, pollen, whatever it is- it's out there.

I walked into Whole Foods in Columbus Circle Friday evening after work to pick up a few things, and the line was all the way back to the bagel/muffin case, near the random salad buffets. Lines of this nature are usually only found when one waits to use the women’s bathroom after a movie or on tax-free weekend at the Gap.

I deduced by the number of people wearing sunglasses on their heads and sandals that most of them were grabbing food to go enjoy the park for the evening. One girl was really pushing it by wearing a strapless dress with no cardigan in sight.

I forgot how small sidewalks could be in New York. Restaurants wasted no time in expanding their clientele outdoors, packing tables closely and edging the walkers out onto the fearsome streets of the Upper West Side.

AV was in Texas all weekend to see her family and nephews, so KR and I had to make our own fun. We were invited by our friend SF to a cook-out on the roof-top of her building in Alphabet City. The weather being optimal, we enjoyed being coatless and outdoors as long as our weary post-work-week selves would allow, then headed home at a reasonable hour.

We slept in and ran errands on Saturday, then headed to the park to lounge with books and magazines for the late afternoon. I was confused, for a moment, after entering Sheep’s Meadow right inside the park at 67th Street, thinking we had happened upon Woodstock ’68. It was literally the equivalent of an outdoor concert with no musical guest appearance.

We found a grassy area and planted ourselves, abandoning all hopes of reading with all the great people-watching opportunities before us. Our friend MN joined us as we got settled to watch the carnival of people we had happened to find. First there were grown men and women hula-hooping… their hips did not lie. Secondly, there was the dude with Lincoln’s face tattoed on his ankle playing with his Boston terrier. Third, there were the guys who were taking turns doing back-flips in jeans. We were certain/hopeful that one of them would get injured, but to no avail.

It was windy enough for kids to fly kites and for plenty of unsuspecting nappers to get pelted with renegade footballs and badminton birdies. We also decided that there will have to be careful discernment between what appear to be Southern guys and what actually might be Cape Cod guys, both of which came out of the woodwork with everyone else. Nashville and Nantucket look awfully similar tossing a football in colorful khaki shorts from a distance. They’re not the same- trust me.

“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.”
-Anne Bradstreet

Our visit to the House that Ruth Built

Otherwise known as Yankee Stadium.

We experienced yet another in our lives as New Yorkers last night- our first Yankees game. Actually- our first Yankees vs. Red Sox game as well. Yes, one of the most prolific rivalries in sports, in a legendary stadium that will soon be torn down. We were there.

We arrived at the stadium, were on the complete wrong end of the stadium from where we were supposed to pick up our tickets and had to back-track, met up with our friend DT, then proceeded to wait in line at the wrong gate to get in.

Apparently it was amateur hour at the ballpark.

We got hot dogs and Diet Cokes and found our seats, and spent about half of the first inning readjusting everything and trying to get situated. I should first mention that restaurants and stands in New York never have regular yellow French's mustard, much to the chagrin of KR and AV. It's always the spicy or grainy kind. The ballpark was no exception to this rule.

So spicy mustard and all, we settled in and no sooner had KR put her Diet Coke on the bleacher in front of us, than the 18-year-old chick in front of us knocked it over and didn't apologize... four dollars down the drain.

We bought our tickets yesterday morning and they read "Bleachers- No Alcohol", and with good reason. The bleacher fans needed no further encouragement for their antics. At one point we had a tally going of the number of fans that had been kicked out, but we ultimately lost count because it happened every five minutes and baseball games are nothing if not long.

We had a great time- though I still find it odd to be in attendance at an outdoor sporting even when it's not 105 degrees outside. I was tempted to wear shorts last night out of habit until I saw the forecast for the evening, with a low of 47 degrees. Not exactly shorts weather, even in New York.

We lasted most of the game, but left a little early when the Yankees pulled ahead so that we could avoid the insanity of getting on a train afterward. We discovered that AV had multiple peanut shells in the cuffs of her jeans on the subway ride home- which made the fact that rats and squirrels were chasing her less peculiar. Kidding.

We came, we saw, we stole some kids' cigarettes (it's okay, he was obnoxious and they were subsequently returned... after we allowed him to panic for 10 minutes and almost break his Marc Jacobs for Chinatown sunglasses).

All in all- great night at the ballpark.

"Fans don't boo nobodies."
-Reggie Jackson

Home on the Range

I went home to Texas- God's country, for the weekend.

Alright, so maybe when I say "range" I'm not talking so much the open prairie as the driving range. Or the golf course, for those of you who don't keep up with Tiger. There ARE however, cattle visible from the driving range near my parents' house... make no mistake. This is still Texas we're talking about here.

My parents were hosting a party on the porch at their new house, and once I was told that Salt Lick barbeque would be involved, I booked my flight to Dallas. I really don't mind traveling so much, as long as I don't have to wait on a long security line, my flight doesn't get delayed, I make my connecting flights without having to run 'Home Alone' style through airports in arbitrary cities, and I don't get stuck on the runway.

I don't think that's too much to ask... I'm actually just thankful I'm not one of the people whose flights were cancelled altogether this past weekend. No barbeque for them.

There was actually no barbeque for me, either, because by the time I had made the rounds and talked to my parents friends and friends parents, it was time for me to split and head to Dallas to meet up with friends on Saturday night. It was strange to drive, especially since we hardly ever use transportation in the city that our Metrocard or feet do not cover.

Once I had gotten to my friends SR nd MK's apartment in Dallas and found out that they had been doing laundry and watching Lifetime movies earlier in the evening, we all decided to slowly sink into the couch, chat, eat chocolate oatmeal cookies and have coffee the rest of the night. My friend AG regaled us with the story of one of the teachers she works with who had a blind date over spring break and claims to have fallen in love. These are the exciting lives of 23-year-olds.

After dropping off my friend CC at her house, I made it back home by about 2:45 AM. I blame it on the coffee.

I am in a general state of caffeine-induced frenzy when I go home because my parents have the best coffee maker of all time. Even my brother, a recent coffee-convert after experiencing college life with 8 AM classes will come home and drink espresso from a tiny white cup. And he's not the tiny white-cup type whatsoever- the coffee is just that good.

It was great to see my family and also my friends. I've decided that even though weekend trips are short, they're worth it. Since good airfares are hard to come by these days, I try to take advantage of them where I can.

Making everything easier this trip was the fact that KR and I were on the same flight home. She had been in Houston to watch her brother play baseball, and so I flew from Dallas to Houston and met up with her at the airport.

Fortunately, we got to sit next to each other. Unfortunately we were in a row with a guy who got up about six times during our flight for various reasons unbeknownst to us. All we know is that he was traveling with models and none of them ate anything other than raw almonds. We, on the other hand, were quite the pair with a frappucino and a huge box of popcorn. The pickings were slim in terminal C, alright?

It made traveling easier, having a friend with you, except for the fact that KR got a bad sunburn on the tops of her legs and arms Saturday and was uncomfortable for most of the flight. We passed the time by watching about half of 'Fever Pitch' until KR's portable DVD player battery died, then could only wonder why the movie chosen for our in-flight entertainment had been 'Money Talks' of all things. I also had to wonder why so many people were actually buying headphones to watch it- did they know the premise of the movie? Did they not? I concluded that people will do anything to avoid reading, even if it means watching a really pointless movie.

Waiting for her bag at the airport, I wish I would've had my camera on hand for the moment when KR was standing there, sunburned and tired, watching as a huge box labeled "human blood: keep at room temperature" passed her on the baggage claim.

Priceless.

"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication."
-Leonardo Da Vinci

Fashion Fridays, an explanation...

To clarify for those of you who don't read Big Mama... you should read Big Mama. Among her many other talents, she does Fashion Fridays every week and THIS WEEK ONLY the rest of her readers got to join in and do their own post about their own style in celebration of Fiesta in San Antonio, Texas.

You can click the icon on my previous post and see many other Fashion Friday Fiesta posts from Big Mama readers. Enjoy!

My Very Own Fashion Friday

I work for a magazine in New York City. This is what I look like on a daily basis (I'm on the right, that's my lovely cousin on the left)...
...my trenchcoat and I are inseperable.

This is what I looked like on a daily basis this time last year...
...when I was footloose and fancy free as a senior in college at Texas A&M. I could drink caffiene at late hours with reckless abandon and not have to deal with the consequences.

Those were the days.

I know what you're thinking- there's a lot of difference in hair length going on here, which is not currently up for discussion because I'm growing it out. But that's neither here nor there.

Back to the fashion at hand.

My building consists almost entirely of women who all work for magazines. I live and work among the Clackers- the real-life Devil Wears Prada magazine community, who ascend the escalators daily in Wolford stockings, Christian Louboutin heels, and chic dresses or black pants. Depending on the magazine you work for and which department you work in dictates your dress (sales, editorial, marketing, art, corporate, etc.) but most everyone wears clothes that are well-pressed and carefully-selected. I wear heels nearly everyday.

I can't live without elastic-waist pants and Nike shorts (for the gym and the weekends), my tall Hunter rain boots and my black Longchamp purse- which has the capacity to hold my sneakers, heels, lunch, wallet, book and notepad at the same time. I'm looking forward to no-pantyhose weather, though they saved me during the winter months in the city. A popular weekend go-to in the city is a pair of sweatpants tucked into Uggs with a long-sleeved t-shirt and fleece or puffy vest. And yes, this is worn by the same women clad in their Bergdorf-best during the weekdays.

I look forward to light layers for spring and summer months- nice camisoles, cardigans and wraps for the mild but not quite summer weather. I am a huge fan of dresses as well- mine are all very comfortable and easy to wear. My favorite clothes are the ones that don't have to be ironed.

I don't go ANYWHERE without a pair of flat shoes on standby, a lesson I learned the hard way one night, schlepping myself around West 4th Street looking for an elusive restaurant with friends. I had enough blisters to keep Dr. Scholl's in business for months from that night alone. I recently had to retire a faithful pair of Seven jeans (seen in the above picture), which had a few holes that eventually grew and would now officially not be okay to wear out of doors.

Which reminds me, I need to go shopping for a replacement pair. All in a day's work.

Thanks Big Mama for giving the rest of us a chance to share in the greatness that is Fashion Friday!

“Balenciaga once said the secret of elegance is elimination. I believe that.”
-Audrey Hepburn

Just a Walk in the Park

AV in the afternoon.

"I feel so alone in the city. All those gazillions of people and then me, on the outside.
Because how do you meet a new person? I was very stumped by this for many years.
And then I realized, you just say,
"Hi."
They may ignore you.
Or you may marry them.
And that possibility is worth that one word."
-Augusten Burroughs

Ignorance is Bliss

One of the most satisfying parts of the weekend is going to bed Friday night and turning the alarm to the “Weekends: Off” setting my phone. I prefer using my phone to an alarm- it keeps in theme with the continual and general darkness of my room.

That and the fact that nothing screams “GOOD MORNING” better than a blinking red light and your inbox filled with new unopened envelopes staring back at you.

The weekend was pleasant and uneventful- we had ‘Into the Wild’ waiting for us from our friend Netflix, so we popped that in for our Friday night entertainment. Based on a true story and seriously tragic, we had to balance it out with something light-hearted for our standing Sunday morning date with the movie theater, and opted for ‘Leatherheads’.

I came away with one conclusion: the only thing better than George Clooney and John Krasinski is having both of them in the same movie. It’s not often two people on my Top Five show up in the same flick… at least not since the ‘Ocean’s Eleven’ trio. What is this Top Five I speak of? That will have to wait for another day.

KR and AV came home Saturday evening with rosy faces from an afternoon spend in the sun. KR even had sun on her shins, of all places, because she had rolled up her pants. Nothing says “Spring is here” quite like sunburned shins, if you ask me.

I’d like to take a moment to commend the people who do my laundry- I dropped it off at 11 AM and it was ready by 4 PM. Yeah that’s right- we take our laundry and pay someone else to do it. With the way those machines function, I’m convinced we are coming out ahead. I also hit up the dry-cleaner across the street, both to pick-up and drop-off, meaning I actually dropped about $50 on clothes-cleaning in a period of 10 minutes. Brutal.

I stayed at home while the girls went to Brooklyn with KR’s friend LK who is in town interviewing for jobs- I wanted to watch the Final Four games, and now March Madness is all but over as far as I’m concerned. My bracket was busted when Memphis beat UCLA, and Kansas added to my troubles by crushing UNC. Has anyone else noticed that the first and second-round games in the tournament are always the most exciting? The Final Four is always so anticlimactic.

And I’m not just saying that because my bracket is now useless.

So who is ready for the NBA play-offs? I can’t believe I’m obliged to the painstaking final weeks of the season, watching the Mavericks try and claw their way into a spot this season. They did, however beat the Suns today, so things are looking up.

Equally as foreboding as going to sleep on Friday nights is comforting- coming home from church on Sunday nights, knowing that everything starts all over again in the morning is the ultimate weekend-ending moment of realization. There’s always a second when you forget- regardless of the fact that you do the same thing everything- like that moment when you wake up to your alarm in the morning before realizing what day it is and where you have to be, or that split second after the previews and before the feature presentation in the movies when you forget what movie you’re actually there to see.

I never know where the weekend goes or how it evaporates so quickly- but the moments of ignorant bliss make everything worth it.

"Time is a created thing. To say 'I don't have time' is to say 'I don't want to.'"
-Lao Tzu

Pot-Stirrers

We’ve made some great meals in our close kitchen/living quarters, but Wednesday was not one of our greater nights. We had to improvise- “make it work,” as Tim Gunn would say.

On our way home from the gym at work, KR and I decided we should try and eat at home instead of grabbing food out before we left to go to Bible study. Easier said than done, especially when you haven’t been to the grocery store in a few weeks.

We checked and possibly stretched a few expiration dates, and after a few minutes we had pots boiling, since dry pasta was in abundance. It usually takes about 75 seconds for the temperature in the room to burn through an ozone layer, so we tried to get things moving. Having limited counter-space, oftentimes pots and pans spill over onto the coffee table, the fridge or the microwave. At one point I had one on top of the toaster- not at all a fire hazard, thanks for asking.

In the midst of the cooking frenzy I realized I couldn’t reach the farfalle noodles in the highest cupboard over the stove, therefore forcing me to stand on the arm of the couch, over KR and her boiling pots, to get it.

It started feeling like we were in a quick-fire challenge on Top Chef, what with our limited ingredients, hazardous cooking conditions and minimal time. Instead of the show’s head judge Tom Colicchio, AV arrived during part of the frenzy and watched us from the couch, ultimately choosing to stay home for the evening and cook “baby-sitter food,” as we now refer to chicken nuggets and Kraft macaroni and cheese.

At one point I was so impatient waiting for the water to boil that I microwaved a corn tortilla with cheddar cheese for ten seconds just to stave off my hunger. My “amuse bouche” of sorts, as KR called it; I could only laugh and wonder where she heard that word… it was probably from Tom, she loves that guy.

We watch way too much Bravo.

AV and I had a date last night that involved slices of white pizza and banana pudding- an excellent combination. Right up there with cheesy tortillas and pesto pasta. In preparation for the new episodes of The Office, which start next Thursday night, we watched several episodes from the couch and neglected getting our laundry and dry-cleaning altogether. It was lovely.

KR went to Nobu 57 with her boss and some clients, after lengthy research and discussion regarding the menu. A celebrity hot-spot and known for their sashimi, I was IMing her such entrée options as “braised sea urchin” and “jalepeno yellowtail.” There’s nothing like a great sea urchin to get you going on a Thursday night, right? We clarified the difference between sushi and sashimi before she left- sushi being the rolls and sashimi being the rice with strips of raw fish draped over them, in case you were wondering.

She reported back that everything was great, and that the bill was about equivalent to one of our paychecks.

Looks like no sea urchin for me, darn.

“It's been sitting in my car all day. Sun beating down on the mayonnaise. Just, you never know.”
- Michael Scott, ‘The Office’- Cocktails episode

Hello Old Friend

We went to Good Burger for dinner after church on Sunday night, right off of Union Square, and I couldn’t help but notice, and linger slightly, in front of the Chipotle next door.

Obviously, I’ve been able to think of no other burrito chain restaurant since then, and have craved a burrito bowl since realizing that months have literally passed without one. So today I made the difficult but necessary decision to forego my workout for sake of my craving, and even persuaded AV to join me.

We met up for dinner and noticed something different about the menu immediately- there were numbers next to everything. Much to our dismay, we quickly realized that the numbers were, in fact, the calorie counts of each dish. What a bad idea, Chipotle. Why would you do that? What happened to the days when a girl could eat guacamole and chips without an alarmingly high three-digit number blazed into her mind?

I have news for you- those days are long-gone. If you’re reaching for the salty, crispy tortilla, they’re going to give you a visual of what it’s going to look like sticking on your thigh.

Strangely enough- it didn’t stop me from eating any of it. Go big or go home. Or, as AV said “GET big and THEN go home.”

We walked home from the Rockefeller area WITHOUT COATS ON, which was a big day for us. It was in the low 60’s this evening, so we were content to walk up Sixth Avenue, through Central Park and back home.

By the time we reached Central Park West, I had one of those “do I really live here? Does this pseudo-grown-up life belong to me?” moments, and AV voiced a similar sentiment while we walked across the street to our block.

Dinner was wearing thin after about 20 blocks and 15 minutes of American Idol- so after watching a few Dolly Parton numbers we hiked it down the block to Magnolia Bakery… because that is what you do after you’ve eaten half your body weight in rice and beans.

I became a believer in their banana pudding tonight, a treat KR and AV have known about for quite some time now, and there’s no turning back. One bite of that whipped, creamy goodness and I was converted. Who cares about sugary cupcakes when there is pudding to be had?

I tried to exercise self-control by eating half and putting half back in the fridge, but 30 minutes later I polished off the rest of it.

Quitting while ahead is vastly overrated.

"A thing moderately good is not so good as it ought to be. Moderation in temper is always a virtue; but moderation in principle is always a vice."
-Thomas Paine