On the path to hipster-dom

There are a ton of ways for me to get to work in the morning. All the ways are by foot, which my body thanks me for since my work outs have been few and extremely far between, but the street combinations- those are endless. One of my favorite things to do in New York is just bopping around-going up new streets and down even newer ones. There are so many cute little book stores, or cute little coffee shops, or cute little boutiques to drool over (and subsequently cry over as my salary keeps me a window shopper). Anyways, I found one street on my way to work that I can drool over, and not have to pay a penny!

On 18th street, between Broadway and 5th, is a cute little fire department. And cute not-so-little boys. I’m truly okay with paying New York City taxes if this is what my money is funding.

Anyways, back to bopping around New York. As this weekend begins, I realize I never told much of last weekend.

Saturday was a gorgeous day, and I spent it doing gorgeous things. I finally went for a much needed run. I went to lunch with boy Kevin-we got hummus and half-picnic’d in Tomkins Square. I went to the Hester Street fair. Had my first cup of Vietnamese coffee since I was in Vietnam. Went out to dinner and drinks with my friend Dana who was in town from DC. Went out for a few more drinks with my friend Dana who was in town from DC. And then I refer you back to the mouse in my fridge for late night Saturday fun.

Sunday was less productive, a lot less productive.

A few new girlfriends (Thanks Jessica Slevin) and I went to this place Luke’s Lobster on Tuesday night. It’s a hole in the wall gem for anyone who loves a good lobster and loves a good hottie. Luke is the good hottie and my friends have no shame in staring at, stalking and tweeting about his good hottie-ness. See below.



I don’t eat seafood. Whatsoever. And Luke’s Lobster doesn’t serve anything but seafood. Whatsoever. Of couuuuurse I’d love to go.

I’m closer to home and Mickey Mouse than I thought.

Yesterday, April 24th, was my 1 month New York City permanent move anniversary. Thanks, all.

This deserves some reflective thought, but first, I find it necessary to put my newest friend at foremost priority. We met a few weeks back, and he basically hasn’t left my side since. I had little issue with his intrusion, until yesterday, when I came home from a sunny, gallivanting day to make myself a grilled cheese samwich. I opened the fridge and saw this new friend of mine eating that very same cheese I’d planned to..grill.

So, yes, my new friend is a little mousey.

Before you cringe and get all judgmental- it’s New York City. Mice are a dime a dozen, and are more common than howling and hooting construction workers, or even howling and hooting men on Wall Street. It’s subtle, but trust me, they do it too.

One of my roommates is out of town, and the other was still enjoying her crisp, New York day. It was just me, the mouse, and my empty stomach- turned upside down, inside out, and any other direction it could be turned, thinking about my refrigerator’s new inhabitant. I tried to think which of my friends was an exterminator or had a father (or mother..)for an exterminator and surprisingly, my phonebook coughed no one up. I figured out my best bet was to wait for J to get home- 1 baby mouse (that is pretty cute to be honest..) is a 2 man job. Well she didn’t get home until 5 minutes before I had plans to meet my friend Dana who was in town from DC, so we decided to let the mouse have its cake and eat ours too, until we were both back in the apartment.

I returned from my night around 1:30 (I know, early night for a city slicker), and J got back at 2, determined to take on the mouse. She was like a regular doctor in surgery demanding a scalpel, scissors, flashlight.. or whatever tools surgeons demand, maybe not a flashlight on second thought. She motioned for saran wrap, a blanket and a grocery bag. I thought at 2 in the morning, and in our state of mind, we shouldn’t be playing the role of exterminator, but J was unwavering- we were getting this mouse, and her homemade mouse kit was the key to it all.

So I went to fetch one of her insisted upon apparatuses, and came back to find her sitting criss-cross applesauce in front of the wide open fridge-no mouse in sight. She continued to throw entirely everything out until the fridge was near empty, and still- no mouse in sight.

Nothing happened next, there is still nothing in our fridge, and I still have no exterminator friends in my phone book.


Reflective thought to come..

I was about to start off with this: When I was in college…

But that is way too weighty of a fragment to be thrown around unexamined.

I resent having to come to terms with and verbalize it, but in bringing up anything college- I will forever be speaking in past tense. My “college experience” is what it was. The whole 3.5 years of it feels so far gone. I can still remember the exact outfit (orange and blue, head to toe) I wore in high school on December 3, 2005- the day after I found out that it would alllllll take place at the University of Florida. Without blaming a third-party substance, I feel like the days in between then and now are a dream. I definitely own the dream, but, none the less, it’s the kind where you wake up the next morning wondering “did that just happened, or did I dream it?”

Anyways, I graduated a semester early, so most of my college buds are just now approaching their own graduations, and just now approaching this so called real world. A lot of my friends are reaching out for help, guidance, advice-someone to tell them exactly what is next. There’s no one answer- It’s scary, but manageable. That’s the only advice I have to offer, a short 5 months post college.

Of course that’s a lie, I have a ton more advice. But it’s 11:15, I just got back from a few beers with Kevin. Kevin is a boy (man, to be contested) that I met at a coffee shop two weeks ago, the same week of the iPad launch. He was particularly appealing, but I’m going to give the credit more to his new piece of technology than anything else.

Basically, this just has to, and will, continue tomorrow.

It’s Hump-Day Wednesday... and it’s the end of hump day- which means the weekend is way more than half the week away.

As promised to the lucky fellow who took me out for a drink (or two) last night, I’ll introduce Mr. S (he thinks he’s too famous for name recognition). He’s a… “friend of a friend.. of a friend?” A fellow Jew, he grew up in New York City. With this combination- I had high expectations for our meeting spot on 15th and Irving. I think we both agree that while the place was great, the neighboring venue that was hosting Snoop Dogg’s concert, made our spot a lot less hot. Mr. S guaranteed a more fun 2nd date, perhaps a tour de New York on the back of his motorcycle?

In work news, we dressed up the office dog, Pixel, today. He's basically our mascot..


And we had an ice cream party. Who can complain?

Chillin out, Maxin, Relaxin all cool

I had my first Philly Cheesesteak.

Not to insult your intelligence, but some people take longer than others to figure out the obvious- I was in Philadelphia this past weekend. My roommate, Lauren Taplinger (to be biographied..i did make that up) has a brownstone in the heart of Philly’s quaintest. It’s the second time I’ve been, and even after only two short visits can I solidly say I could live there. I’m not going to, but I could, solidly.

I had a few pros to guide me out of my virgin Cheesesteak way. The first was obviously Lauren, the second was Ashley, Lauren’s childhood friend, who spent the entire day frolicking with us. The third was Scott. Scott went to uPenn ..UPenn..Upenn..U.. Penn? Whatever.. University of Pennsylvania (but that’s too long and uncool). Scott is a friend of a friend, lives in the city, works as a lawyer, and may or may not be at my level of comedy. I was sent very, very specific text messages outlining the entire order. Whiz and Onions, and introduce ketchup on round 2. Whiz is as sketchy and elusive as its name suggests. It’s over processed, over heated and reheated cheese- sinful and delicious. Onions need no further discussion, but the woman at the cash register (shown below) does. Not that any amount of unhealth or disgust would have turned me away from being the only girl in line for the ‘wich, but please note the size of the woman taking my money, and let’s talk about the credibility in this statement, “Our meat is 100% lean and has absolutely no fat.”



Regardless, my first bite was Phil-icious.

Back to the biography of Lauren Taplinger. Here is her new blog! Our blogs have the same birthday. She’s been in the city since November and works in public relations- she gets jargon. Her heart is BIG, which takes up all the space in the tiny 2-bedroom apartment of hers that I’ve moved into. Jessica, Jessica Freeman-Henderson, JFH, J, takes up the 2nd bedroom-that’s only 1 person, but she’ll respond to a lot of callings. Back to Tap’s big heart (oh ya, everyone except for her voicemail and parents call her Tap). We’ve been friends since the awkward high school days, when we both thought bleach blond high lights were all the rage. Thank god, at the ripe age of 22 and 23, we’ve both figured out that au natural brown is our (mighty) finest look. If you caught that, she’s 23, a year older than me. So she’s like a big sister, except that sometimes I’m like HER big sister.. in times of recollection (inside joke, and I know inside jokes are so immature, but we’re comedians.. oops again with the insider). Her parents are FABULOUS, and it’s an honor to say I love you to a second set of parents. Our parents are buds as well, so it’s one big happy fam-dam-ily.

Brings me to my living sitch. The original plan was to “crash” on her couch, like many newcomers to the pretty penny rent prices. We revamped crash, and I’ve been sleeping side by side in Tap’s bed since day 2 (I wanted to be rugged day 1 and actually crash). I’ve got one big suitcase that I’ve been living out of for the past month. I’m trying to keep up the anti-glam lifestyle I grew accustomed to in Asia, but I gave in and phoned the parents last week to ship up my closet, please, please, please.

So here I sit, in my temporary baby apartment in New York City, anxiously awaiting any sort of wardrobe, Tap by my side, and still full from my Philly Cheesesteak.

Cutest Devil Angel.

This is Pixel, the munchkin pup of one of the techie chicks that works here. He’s OpenSky’s resident dog, and also the culprit of my seized sandwich. When I got to the office today, I set my canvas bag down, ran toward the kitchen for my morning cup of Tea and came back to find dear Pixel nose deep in my bag, rummaging through the Saran wrap of my routine turkey and cheese on whole wheat bread sandwich. You can’t scold and spank a tush that precious, so I let Pixel off the hook with just a verbal warning.

Again, my life is a series of accidental bliss. Since the pup ambushed my familiar lunch (budget and health friendly), I was forced to venture out for an uneconomical meal. One of my coworkers happened to be heading out at the same time as me, so I followed her, hoping she knew the ins and outs of the street grub that surround our office. Sure enough, we arrived in front of a falafel joint, where I ordered a hummus-drenched pita that I am now consuming in one (dirty) hand, as I type with the (clean) other. Thanks pixel :)

I decided to bring my lunch to my desk, and take a mini-work break to write this, instead of sitting in Union Square Park for lunch, like I’ve been doing the past 2 weeks.

How freaking cute is PIXEL!!??!

I'm BACK

Here goes nothing. I’ll tell you one thing- I still think bloggers are self-centered. But I’m not going to fight who I am, I’m self-centered, and I blog.

My first blog, Two Girls, One Backpack, served a purpose- to keep my fans (ha, that’s you) in tune with my Southeast Asian whereabouts. This blog, well, I’m not so sure it serves much of anything.

I’ve been trying to brainstorm a premise, a dark alley to walk down confidently, a yellow brick road- a pitch, angle or some sort of focus, because I guess that’s the key to having an engaged audience. But engaged audience, shmengaged shmaudience. That’s just PR jargon- and the word “jargon,” that’s even more PR jargon in itself. Jargon is just a nifty word to make bullshit sound exclusive-

“oh, don’t worry about knowing what that all means it’s ::insert industry here:: jargon.”

How about, it’s more that you can’t explain yourself because what you are talking about makes no sense, so THANKS, I’m not worrying about it.

Awesome, I think I just figured out my “premise.” From here on out I will write jargon. Just to throw credibility at the term, welcome dictionary.com’s (appropriately me fitting) definition: language that is characterized by uncommon or pretentious vocabulary and convoluted syntax and is often vague in meaning. Okay, so that might have been the 5^th definition, but definitions 1 through 4 were too boring, and boring belongs nowhere near my blog.

To be completely honest, I love my life and I love to write- it adds up that I love to write about my life.

So, I should probably update you, or introduce myself, if you are new to loving my life as well. I live in New York City. Yup, live is an active verb. I am totally a full-fledged, overworked, underpaid, and proud to do it, New Yawker. Accent to be developed; right now I’m focusing on what might be the heaviest decision in my induction into “the City.”

Mets or Yankees?

I might leave this to be determined by whatever team my first full-fledged overworked, but super paid, New Yawk boyfriend supports. Or, if I wanted to pull out the independent woman in me, I guess I could peruse through player bios and tally up the hotties. Most tallies wins.

More update. I got me a job, folks. Pats on the back are welcomed, encouraged and well received. I just finished my second week, and am nothing short of ecstatic and enthused. I work for OpenSky, a start up Web site. The founders are beyond brilliant, as are the other 41 on staff. The CEO, John Caplan, was the former president of Ford Models for 7 years and the former president of About.com. I can’t answer your question as to what exactly I do, because that’s the essence of a fast-paced, evolving start up. I can tell you that I go in with a smile, come out with a smile, and in between I work with a team of eclectic entrepreneurs who I’ve already learned entirely too much from.

I won’t end this intro without leaving out your biggest concern. New York City dating. Yes, I’ve entered such a world, and yes, I plan on taking full advantage. As far as progress is concerned, there are some to speak of, others to happily part ways with, but it’s all too premature for this post. I will say, it’s not like college, where you have an open schedule to see your loved one every hour on the hour. 9 to 5 is a far-fetched dream in the city. 8 to past 7 is more practical, but even 7 seems like heaven for most. Free time is as hard to come by, as a reasonably priced drink. Both of these factors shit on dating. I can’t tell you how many days in advance plans I’ve made, only to, day of, send what should be added to every New Yorker’s QuickTexts list: “Don’t hate me, but I’m exhausted.. rain check?”

Ugh I’m a happy mess, but I’ll get my shit together and start giving you juicy material to work with. Scouts honor.

Cheers to my life, and writing all about it.