best. day. ever.

i'm completly exhausted but I have to just make a quick note of this before I write it up this week.

Today was, to date, one of the best days ever.

I pitched a few ideas for the website, that were very well liked, 1 or 2 I get to write, the other 2 were assigned out (thank god, I don't have time to do them all). I'm writing the opening piece for a section of september's issue. I started fact-checking my first article. I got a cell phone to take home and test for a few weeks and ...

...i went to the yankees game as the guest of a big corporation and they sat us in box seats to the left of homeplate and served us free food (including hot dogs and tomato and feta salad, two of my fav foods) and free beer. on top of that, everyone got to spend an inning watching from the company's seats in the very front row right behind third base. i was down there for the bottom of the seventh when the braves hit a foul ball. a-rod was playing third, he picked up the ball, threw it to the third base coach, then pointed at me to give it to me. so now I have the ultimate yankees souvineer. how fucking awesome is that? forgive me for being so starry-eyed tonight, but it was such an amazing day. I guess i was on TV because when I got back up to the box, which had three HD TVs with the game on, everyone knew I caught it - they all saw me on TV.

best. day. ever. for real.


photo captions (top to bottom):
1. the view from the clubhouse
2. my view from the field
3. ...now of the outfield

More stories on PM's blog

a few more bylines...
Virtual Pet Prefers Real Walks
New System Gives Runners a Dashboard

time machine: send me back to coney island, circa 1926

a weekend of parades it was. Saturday there was coney island's famous mermaid parade, which was a festive gala of women in pasties, shiny colors and body paint. today there was the pride parade, which was impressively large and full of rainbows and drag queens and everyone else. both days it rained though, which didn't exactly set the most festive mood. Today's sprinkles and almost steady mist weren't nearly as disruptive of yesterday's flash floods. luckily, the skies held out for most of the mermaid parade but after half an hour after it ended they opened up and drenched the old amusement park.

coney island was exactly what I wanted it to be: run-down, out-dated, old and tired. i literally got chills up my spin when the Q train passed Brighton Beach and I had my first glimpse of the Cyclone with my own eyes. Of course, I've seen the historic wooden rollercoaster on the discovery channel but it was much more impressive in real life. I have this very vivid memory from when I was first allowed to have a TV in my bedroom. My uncle sold me his old 19" RCA he got from the union sometime (it had a united airlines wing-span logo stuck on it)--he sold it to me for real cheap because my parents, as always, didn't want me to have something for nothing. So I saved up and put it in my room at 225 Cayuga on this blue square trunk that I found in my garage. This was back when my room was COVERED in magazine clippings and sponge-painted walls so the place was very busy. I had it wired into my computer and stereo and there were speaker wire, phone cord and extension cords strung all over the place. Anyway, I remember laying in bed, which at the time was a wood frame painted white that my dad and I built together, cuddled up in my navy blue Venture comforter, watching a show on the history of roller coasters. That's when I became enamored with the Cyclone. This was probably seventh grade. I had already done my 4th grade Illinois State Project on Chicago's Riverview Park and had grown up going to Six Flags and hearing my dad and aunts and uncles and their friends talk about spending their childhood at Riverview. It was right next to Lane Tech (where my uncle pete went to high school).


The Viper at Great America is modeled after the Cyclone, which I didn't get to ride this time because of the rain, but I plan on going back MANY times. I did ride the Wonder Wheel, a ride at Deno's Wonderwheel Amusement Park (The Cyclone is at Coney Island is technically a neighborhood at the tip of Brooklyn. There's a beach, a boardwalk and a strip of run-down shops, more amusement rides, carnival games, hot dog stands and the like). The Wonder Wheel was a lot more hardcore than I expected. We took a swinging cart, of course, assuming that "swinging" meant the occupants could sway it back and forth. It really means that unlike the stationary carts, these do some fast little mini-dives every once in a while. The first one really took me by surprise and was a huge thrill. It’s hard to describe. It was amazing to see the beach and the boardwalk from that high. Even though it was cloudy and windy and crappy, the beach was full--there were even some crazies in the freezing water--and throngs of people crawled the boardwalk between rows of ring tosses and pop-the-balloon stands. I could perfectly imagine women in heels and flapper dresses and ladies in petticoats carrying parasols walking around the park, taking a ride on the extraordinary new Wonderwheel (which was finished in 1922 and has been accident-free for it's entire life) with their new beau. its so odd to look at the evolution of community entertainment. in its time, coney island was affordable family fun that everyone could enjoy. I’m struggling to think of the same kind of destination nowadays. yeah there are traveling carnivals and places like aquariums, but its not the same.

God, I'm so nostalgic, even for things I didn't experience.

So yeah, I'm totally and completely bewitched by Coney Island. I'll post pictures eventually, although I didn't bring my camera because of the rain, so they'll be nice 1.3megalixel cell-phone quality.

[the worst drink in the history of the universe]
I was pretty disgusted, however, with the $10 a pop buy one, get one Daiquiri. First off, don't trust any alcohol that's buy on, get one free; especially if it's served in a plastic blue yarder bong cup. I knew this from the start but decided what the hell, im on coney island. the stand that was selling these drinks was located right across from the "dancing lady," a mechanical puppet that danced when you paid a quarter. (see what I mean about evolving entertainment?) they had three flavors: blue, yellow and red. they were supposed to be mango, fruit punch, strawberry, respectively, but three of us each got a different flavor but they all tasted like shit. the same shit. it was seriously the nastiest drink i've ever had. i literally chocked down the first one during a nice walk on the dirty beach (i was barefoot until I counted three giant shards of glass) before heading back to the stand to redeem my free drink. I'd already figured out that the "fruit flavor" was really just Kool-Aid powder with double-the sugar (slushee mix without the slush) but I had to ask what kind of rum they were using because it was one of the strongest daiquiris I've ever had. So the guy, who had two different size eyes and wore a lot of 'bling' around his scrawny neck, pulls out a bottle of Wray and Nephews Overproof Rum, the same stuff Len had warned be about in Jamaica, only to bring me a flask of it because I just had to try one of the strongest and possibly one of the most vile alcohols on the planet. it's like pure alcohol and these guys were filling like the first four or five inches of the tube with it. The second one did go down better (wonder why).

We brought the drinks on the subway because it started raining so hard and the woman across from us asked "so have you learned your lesson now?" she said that on her first trip to coney island, she'd been suckered into the same drink.
Hell yes I learned my lesson.

game time

ew. just woke up to crappy, soggy, humid weather. last night i was really concerned with being in brooklyn by noon for the mermaid parade, but now that there's no sun to soak in, just drizzle, i'm not so worried.

So I'm spending the morning playing flash games. Here's some cool shit I've found:
The Bow Man Game This is like the old Gorillaz game for QBasic (Mo, I know you used to play that with me). One and Two player options.
A Gorillaz-inspired Chipmunks parody. From the same guys as above.

Actually, these guys have a lot of good stuff. Visit NaTa2 at http://www.nata2.info/.

3-D Pong from All Things Flash.

today, I ate a pickle.

friday [06 23 06]

ahhh ... my neck hurts from a few minutes of head banging a la wayne's world to some chicks karaoke-ing (yeah, I’m using it as a verb) bohemian rhapsody at the bar last night.

After the intern-alumni reception—which was in fact a lot of good hors d’oeuvres, decent wine and successful networking—the interns and some of last year’s alumni went to NYU’s White Horse to drink overpriced Budweiser and sing karaoke. I graced the patrons with a little bit of the Salt N Pepa and after one song, I couldn’t get enough of the microphone. For the first hour or so, basically the only people in the bar were with our party, so I had nothing to be embarrassed about (except my superb signing voice). Actually, another intern, Elizabeth, can sing pretty fucking well and blew everyone else away as did some other random chick. It actually was a lot of fun – it was the first time I got goofy (not too drunk though) since I’ve been here – lots of dancing to Tupac and singing along with Bryan Adams. Ahh college.

Today was my day off. Man, I can’t believe that June’s almost over already. Seriously. It feels like I’ve been here for a few days while at the same time it feels like home (without my family and friends). I remember back on my first day when my supervisor told me about getting today off, it seemed so far away back then. Low and behold, it’s come and gone. And while my plan was to see museums and Broadway, the weather was shitty and I had some writing to do so I didn’t even leave the dorm (save a walk to the gym) until two. I did have a good time wandering the village. I was looking for affordable yet cute vitange stores and while i did come across some great places (one had a collection of barbie dolls and playboys from way back when among other useless crap), I also come across other "retro" stores that sell $200 used dresses--not designer--fromt he 80s and 90s. The nerve. really. They even had "vintage" leggings (leggings, in case you didn't know, are all the rage under miniskirts and shirts that really should be worn with jeans. not leggings, but jeans.) that sold for $35. Why the fuck would you pay $35 for a pair of faded black strech pants when you can get a new pair made out of the exact same material at forever 21 (NY's cheap shopping haven beileve it or not) for $10.

The amazement that went along with my first days in new york was fading, not gone, but dissipated. Back then, even though the weather was as hot as it was today and my bag was as heavy as it was today, the newness of the city and the change of being here was like an IV of adrenaline straight into my heart. Now it’s more like a NoDoz when my eyelids start getting heavy. That doesn’t mean that I’m any less enamored with nyc than I was before—I’m just looking at things through a different eye than I was when I got here.

Taking advantage of that unplanned and natural lead in, I have been getting pretty artsy lately if I do say so myself. I picked up new charcoals and paper today but it started raining almost immediately after I left the store so I didn’t get to go to the park and sketch like I wanted to. Next time.

I had the best sandwich ive had in a long time today. It was a fresh mozzarella with basil, tomato and olive juice on the best bread I’ve had in nyc – seriously, it was. So fluffy and tasty. The sandwich was about three inches high, most of it’s mass created by three large slices of fresh, water-stored mozz. It could have had more tomatoes and basil, but it was still one of the best things ive eaten this summer. I found this sandwich at a little restaurant on 2nd Ave down around 6th or 7th street. If there was more space to it, it would have been like a small-town diner. Old men walked in and greeted the entire wait staff (of 2) by name and was handed a plate of his regular, no order exchanged.

By the way, the sandwich was served with a pickle. I ate it. All of it. I don’t know why I ate it or what prompted me to take the first bite that tasted like the Chinese cucumber appetizer they serve for free at Miko’s back in Urbana. It tasted like just like a salty cucumber, which I liked. I think I decided to take a bite because it still looked like a cucumber and not like a pickle. I bet they made it on site from fresh cucumbers in the owner’s wife’s garden. It only makes sense.


mo and tiffany bought their plane tickets to come visit me the weekend after fourth of july. im so fucking excited. it means a lot to me that they actually took the time to get their shit together and come visit ... manhattan better watch out. they thought it was bad when the muppets took over, now wait until twangswinkberg shows up.

Judge gives Cubs custody of 7-year-old

COURT RULING, Chicago Illinois, May 8, 2006

Chicago, Illinois (AP) - A seven year old boy was at the center of a Chicago courtroom drama yesterday when he challenged a court ruling over who should have custody of him.

The boy has a history of being beaten by his parents and the judge initially awarded custody to his aunt, in keeping with the child custody law and regulations requiring that family unity be maintained to the degree possible.

The boy surprised the court when he proclaimed that his aunt beat him more than his parents and he adamantly refused to live with her. When the judge suggested that he live with his grandparents, the boy cried out that they also beat him.

After considering the remainder of the immediate family and learning that domestic violence was apparently a way of life among them, the Judge took the unprecedented step of allowing the boy to propose who should have custody of him.

After two recesses to check legal references and confer with child welfare officials, the judge granted temporary custody to the Chicago Cubs, who the boy firmly believes are not capable of beating anyone.
###

breathe deep...

Today is a nice, brief half day of in-office work. I spent the morning helping people pack up and responded to some mail then I took off to the International Toy Building on 5th and Broadway for what was probably my coolest press event so far. The floor I was on was literally a child's dream. Video games, dolls, trucks, RC airplanes, water guns, kites ... it was so fucking cool. Kind of like FAO Schwarz without the crowds cool.

I got to play with some new kids games most of which will be on the market in the fall ... all confidential information though (yeah right, like someone's going to tell me confidential information). As soon as I finish this, I'm going to write it up for the PM blog but before that ...

... I'm definitly starting to get a little panicky about the magazine industry again. tonight I have a networking dinner to go to and just thinking about it makes my blood pressure rise. see, im fine with the whole "networking" thing if im on my own and just out there meeting people randomly or being introduced through a friend-of-a-friend deal, but when there's a room full of interns trying to make an impression on a room full of industry folks, it kind of makes my skin crawl. I offered to take a half-hour shift working the door, but there was no longer any help needed. damn, got the email too late.

I was just reading the Ed's Girl on the Hunt blog and the blogger said something that got me thinking: "I didn’t talk too much (thank God)."

Yeah, probably one of my biggest problems: I talk a lot. When I'm -cough- networking, I like to think I am preceptive enough to know when to shut up and want to speak up, but you never know with this industry. the tricky thing of it is that each person is SO different - some want to hear all about you. some only want to talk about themselves. some are great listeners, some have great advice...you have to feel it out with each person.

even writing this out now is making me feel better because I really don't think I have much to worry about - the other night i went out for drinks with the office and by nine o'clock it was just me, another intern and some of the younger staff. One guy laid it out for us (us being the interns): "This is how you fucked up and this is how you fucked up." My fuck-up was pretty minor in the grand-scheme of things -- I called the art dept the graphics dept -- and I was told i'd redeemed myself just fine. in fact, i was told that i i had a good attitude, was a good worker and could easily end up as an eic if i wanted, which boosted the ego WAY up.

well see how it goes ...

what a sickly little child

If you'd like to donate to help this poor little thing get proper medical care, please click below.

"What kind of Asian am I?" the game.

Do you know you’re bloodtype? Seriously. I don’t and it’s definitely something I should. Leave a comment if you do.

Saturday afternoon Union Square was filled was artists, gardeners and cheese makers selling their wares and conversing passersby. I met an artist who bummed a cigarette from me and told me step-by-step how he created a lot of this works, which were mostly photo transfers and other manipulations. It inspired me so on Sunday I took my Canon A70, my dad’s old camera, out to Brooklyn and we’ll see what comes out. I really don’t want to get film developed here though because I like the way Woodman’s in Rockford prints their film, but I think I’m going to have to give in and find someplace.

My weekend actually started out pretty slow. I kicked it off with a veggie burrito and a couple of dos equiss in the back room of a NYU Mexican joint that was crawling with a mélange of NYU students, families and tourists. While the front of the place is well lit with round wooden tables and bar stools, the back room, the bar room is covered in neon paint lit with glowing black fluorescent bulbs. Music cranked through the nearly blown speakers but I can’t even remember what it was because it just sounded like noise. Damn good burritos though. And cheap.

The night eventually took me, along with two other girls, to the Beauty Bar. I like that place – it’s cute and trendy but not too cute or too trendy – hipsters without the attitude, only the style. Their music is always good and their drinks are reasonably priced – and there’s always interesting people to talk to although this particular venture didn’t exactly bring about the most fascinating company. First, let me say that I don’t know how I’d get along without Tiffany’s “How to tell apart different Asian ethnicities” lessons. For the third time in NYC, an Asian guy asked me “What kind of Asian do you think I am?” And honestly, this was the first time I was wrong – and that’s because he was half-Philipino, half-Indian and the Indian blood definitely dominates his genes. He then wanted to play the “guess how old I am” game, which is so fucking lame (and I have no idea why so many people I meet in NY ask that damn question). So anyway, this half-Indian, half-Philippino dude—Dave, 26 years old—comes up to our table and starts talking about David Bowie—he said his 18-year-old sister just came back from her first year at college and hung a huge subway poster of David Bowie in her room, even though she’d never listened to him before college. We explained to him the hipness of liking David Bowie in college and he took that as an invitation to sit down.

Right then, as if sitting down was the cue, his two buddies came and sat down and each paired up with one of us girls … 1-2-3 let’s swoop in for the kill! But the best is yet to come: Dave starts launching into this spiel about how he’s a goal-oriented person, works hard for what he has, blah blah. He was, like, pitching himself to me. But that’s STILL not the best part. Meanwhile poor Kristen, right next to me, is getting personality tested by one of the other dudes:

Q:You’re in a field . There’s a cube in the field. Describe the cube
A:uhhh, weird but ok. It’s silver and shiny and rotating on one corner. Each face is divided into a 4 x 4 grid.
Q: Now there’s a latter in the field. It can be anywhere. Where is it?
A: Uhhh….lying on the ground next to the cube. It’s on of those great extendible ladders that fold up into itself.
Q: Now there’s a horse in the field. What’s he doing?
A:Ok, no more, This is fucking weird.
(ps those were the answers I gave when Kristen gave me the test on the walk home

Turns out the cube represents how you view yourself; the ladder, your friends; the horse, relationships.

So after about five minutes, when we realize that these guys are not just being friendly, hell, they’re not even looking for some quick ass--they want lifelong relationships--we bail. We didn’t even get free drinks out of the deal (they were drinking Red Bull because they don’t drink alcohol). Please put me out of my misery if I'm in my mid- to late- twenties and trying to meet people by discussing my work ethics.

Saturday, ha. Well Saturday was an utter failure, at least the first half. All week long the weather forecast called for sunny skies near 80 degrees. Perfect beach weather. Saturday morning, 8:00 am rolls around. I wake up to my text message beeping because I was supposed to meet Kristen in the lobby at 8—turns out my alarm was still set for M-F only and I was lucky she thought to try to wake me up. We run to Whole Foods to pick up $1.50 muffins for breakfast and do $80 cash back (haha love the $200 cash back limits in
Manhattan) before hurrying to catch the R train to Harold Square where we then had to run over to Penn Station to find Emily at the Long Island railroad and before boarding the Long Island Rail Road to Jones Beach.

This whole time, the sky is grey and not looking very promising, but we all assume (hope) it’s going to burn off as the sun comes out. No such luck. After the $15, subway/train/bus hour-and-one-half-long commute out to the state park/beach created by Robert Moses (bad-ass mother fucker) in the ’20’s, the skies were still gray and the airs were much cooled by the shores of the Atlantic. We tried to tough it out, laying out with blankets covering our bodies to keep warm, but once the pesky drizzle started we were done. Back on the LIRR, back to Manhattan.

Of course, once back in the city, the fucking sun comes out and it’s hot as hell. That’s when I went to the art festival in Union Square where I also picked up some veggies and cheese to finally make a real dinner. Molly was with me and we had a deal worked out—she got the wine and desert, I made the dinner. I made pasta with onions, garlic and green peppers in the sauce (let me tell you – its hard to make pasta and sauce with only one, tiny sauce pan. I had to leave the noodles heaped and overflowing on a double thick paper plate on the counter as I cooked the sauce) and we had a grand ‘ol time. After some wine and pre-partying with the roommate and her friends, Molly and I went down to Bleaker Street in search of some good comedy over which we could enjoy our buzz.

That we found … and some other stuff as well, but I have to get to bed.
Till tomorrow….

Well the Shake Shack is a little shack place where ...

So I've been told that I have to try this place because it's the only place to get a decent Chicago dog in NYC. Now, with a ShackCam site like this, I HAVE to check it out.
The only bad side: no chocolate malts -- a very necessary accessory to a good hot dog.

Oh, all the ways to make money: Crackheadz Gone Wild!

Ha! There are times when something like this would def. come in handy.

Graduate with a degree in computer hacking.

BYOB phone booth

New Trend: Product Placement in novels.
As a writer, you're entitled to do whatever you want - if you want to change you words from "lucy found a blanket on sale at the market" to "lucy scored a killer deal on a blanket at Bed, Bath and Beyond" - that's your perogative. As a reader, I'm not ok with that. At all. Sure, a starving artist has to make money, but there are ways that this can be done in a more tasteful manner, like in the Betty Baldwin example. Anyone else?

Of road-trips and employment

A few miles south of Soledad ...

College grads and those soon to graduate have been know to utter things like ‘the real world’s scary” and “getting a job’s scary.” I’d have to disagree. The nine-to-five aint looking so bad. Its money in the bank — like, a real 40-hour paycheck. You never have to worry about working weekends at your shit-eating retail or food service job. I mean, even at those you’re going to have to work most weekdays AND weekends to get 40 hours, so why not have two days each week you can rely on having off. It’s a chance at insurance and paid vacation too.

The sucky part, the truth about the “real world” that scares the shit out of everyone, is not having that flexible shit-eating job that lets you take off a week and a half to drive to a festival halfway across the country – they can work you 80 hours and it won’t cost them a dime what with bi-weekly pay periods and a tendency to not follow fair labor laws.
It seems like everyone around me has left to go somewhere this weekend. A majority of the people I hang out with are at bonaroo right now. Even people I work with have left for festivals. Another girl I just talked to is driving down to Georgia – it makes you miss those drive-thru-the-night, crammed-in-a-car road trips that are only afforded by the luxury of minimum-wage employment.


So while many of my acquaintances are off traipsing around the country in semi-stolen mini vans eating ganja brownies, I hung out in my dorm room and watched some lost. Season one, episode twenty, Do No Harm. Again, I was watching it with the kid below me who’s watching the show for the first time and is really into it, which is cool because im getting a chance to pick up on anything I missed. But really, the biggest thing I notice is how much friggin’ better the first season was. In everyway. Cinematography. Story. Dialogue, sound. music. Especially music. Really, I don’t think they lived up to their rep. I think they set the bar too high and couldn’t quite make it the second time around.

But before I entered nerdworld, I had a great, home cooked dinner at the home of a former intern and alumna of a friend’s school. I actually met this woman a week ago at a different event and she told me then that she wanted to have a few of the interns over for dinner night – I really didn’t plan on holding her too it. But sure enough, she invited four of us over to her place and cooked mac and cheese and a delicious salad with homemade strawberry dressing (followed by delicious, thick-as-fudge Mexican brownies with a goo of dulce de leche coating the top). We talked a little about journalism and mags, but mostly about told stories of the most creative panhandlers and most ballsy panhandler-imposters we’d ever seen.

The most creative bum ive met was a gentleman who went by ‘cody the subway poet.’ Now this man walked onto the 1 train one night when molly and I were heading uptown for $1.50 pibbers. He introduced himself and asked if we’d mind if he recited some poetry. So there he stood, an elegant black man with a peppered beard, standing tall in alligator shoes, a slick black beret atop his buzzed hair, wearing a slightly mismatched suit in a dark color with a jazzy blue wing-collared shirt underneath. He began his show and my god was he a captivating performer! He spoke directly at people, changing his tone, his inflection, gesturing wildly with his arms and stepping around with his left foot while his right stayed anchored on the unsteady train floor. After two poems spanning three stops, he took off his hat and said “I am temporarily homeless because I temporarily lost my motivation,” could you help me out? I gave him two bucks. I had four on me but I wanted a beer. He was the first panhandler I opened my wallet to.

Gah. There’s this sickening, screeching, continuous nails-on-chalkboard whine coming right into my window from somewhere in this crowded sky.

tsk, tsk

President Bush poked fun at a blind man at a press conferance yesterday.

What a good sport: "Wallsten said he thought that was a pretty good line. And his only complaint is that the president didn't answer his question at the news conference."

follow up

the billboard I showed you earlier is on the north east corner of this building ... this is what's on the north west corner.
In case you can't read the numbers ...


interesting ...

blinding by the light, revved up like a douche between the motor and the white

hey, i don't pretend to know the words.


the sun setting over manhattan.

The dream complete

William Randolph Hearst bought the New York Morning Journal in 1895 with his rich Mama's money after running the San Francisco Examiner for a number of years to pay off a gambling debt he owed his daddy (1). The man was a little eccentric - think Citizine Kane, which was based on him - but he was a good, if ruthless, business man. He often hired complete staffs of other newspapers in order to get the best journalists in the city working for his name. He basically invented "yellow journalism" - exagerated, unreliable and sensationalized news - although the term itself comes from a comic he ran called the Yellow Kid, which spawed comics as we know them today (the notion of comics themselves was idea Hearst stole from Pulitzer, publisher and editor of the New York World).

in 1927, Hearst errected the building you see at the bottom of the tower, the pedastol, as the base for what was to be the home of all 12 of his magazine. It was finished in 1928 and the 6-story pedastol was eventually supposed to hold an enormous tower. However, the stock market crashed and Hearst found his pockets empty - he had many of his publications repo-ed - so the tower was never constructed.

However, about 80 years later, the Hearst Corporation has decided to follow their creator's dream and build the tower - which is the first certified Green Building in NYC (although I hear they don't recycle). Most of the interior of the original structure has been gutted and although I haven't seen it, all the press I've read praises the new palace over and over again. When filled, the tower will house all 20 Hearst magazine titles and other corporate offices as well.



(1) Wikipedia - just the debt part though, I knew the rest

to end it all, some pigeons. darn things.

garbage day in NYC

I work abotu 6 blocks from Central Park so I go to the south end sometime to relax and get out of the city. I love the old sign here.




My office building reflecting the building across 53rd.





(above two) The subway stop at union square. I can ride any of the yellow trains to work. I've been trying to walk home (I work on 53rd, I live on 14th) for exercise and so I can see more of the city. Today, I walked down 5th Ave - tomorrow, 6th.



Ew. It sucks when its hot on garbage day. It looks like this everywhere and smells like 609s' kitchen x 10.

c'mon now

The Senate this morning is debating a constitutional amendment banning same-sex marriage, even though supporters concede the measure doesn't have enough votes to win. "I don't believe there's any issue that's more important than this one," said Republican Sen. David Vitter.
Tuesday, June 6 - CNN

Yeah, compared to gay marriage that war on terror over in iraq is nothing. education? chicken shit. Those pesky storms that keep developing in the gulf? Just your garden variety thunderstorm -- New Orleans is still largly uninhabitable anyway so who's it going to hurt?

Afterall, a child having two mommies is a MUCH bigger problem than a child who doesn't know his father because he died while the kid was still in the womb.

who cares about feeding the hungry when there's myspace out there?

Pentagon sets its sights on social networking websites

Nice to see our tax dollars hard at work. Maybe they're trying to determine just who in the world really has the most facebook friends. Or maybe the Pentagon National Security Agency just wants a reason to check out hot chicks making out on myspace all day.

way to go AP

The AP recently put out the first good example of new media journalism I've ever seen from the age-old organization earlier this week. The Hurricane Simulator is an excellent example of how journalists can use flash to enhance their boring wire stories that usually don't keep people after the second graf. Is the AP finally realizing that the Internet isn't an enemy?

everything's a competition in the glossy world

read about my cafeteria

organ players and dragon slayers

I haven't seen a movie theater with a live organ player in about a dozen years. im sitting here, in another tab, bouncing ideas off tiffany about theater designs for her architecture class and I suddenly remebered back to York Theater in good ol' Elmhurst and the organ player they used to have on Sunday afternoons. Now, of course, this was back when York was a third-run theater and it cost $1.75 to see a show (boy, I sound old - like I should be speaking of "talkies" old) -- that's such an interesting part of film history that's almost completly vanished in our generation. Really, there aren't many marqueed theaters left, at least that I know of, that are still functioning movie theaters, let alone theaters that employ organ players. I guess the giant theater chains thought dancing Fandango puppets are a suitable replacement for real, live organ music. Hell, they don't even have the dancing candy anymore (which I just tried unsucessfully to find on the internet). Ahhh ... the good old days

I'm famous

My article is on the PM blog!

and it was actually on the front page on Monday.

Bigtime.

bbq and bonnaroo

[sunday] 06 10 06
i bought bright red lipstick yesterday. i went to sephora and after ignorant saleswomen passed me around like the wine spritzers they share after work, i found this amazing chick who knew exactly what i was talking about and helped me find the prefect shade. ill put up a picture when i wear it. i feel so 1940s glam when i have it on.

i spent the day at a bbq festival in madison square park. the lines for food were really long, but worth the wait. some of the best baked beans id ever had - hell, a girl from tennessee who said "I drank the bbq sauce that was came out of my mom's teet" even agreed with me. there was also free music all afternoon, including an amazing new orleans jazz band that played a little of everything - jazz, blues, zydeco, funk - it was awesome, even those i was one of the dozen or so people in the who damn place really dancing around and have a good time.

it definitly made me desperatly want to be one of the lucky ones going to bonaroo next weekend. i meet some other guy who went to bonaroo the year before last, but he said he left early on sunday because of the rain. pussy.
(he was referring to the same rain that formed the lake of shit/puke/urine water we all waited so paitently in)

i also had the best meal of my life since ive been down here. after the bbq fest, molly and i went down to brooklyn to visit emily, which is becoming my sunday ritual. i REALLY love her neighborhood, her apartment, everything - i'm pretty sure i want to move to brooklyn after i graduate - or at least that summer, it sucks moving in the winter.

but back to the meal - we went to a peruvian resturant in park slope (a neighborhood in brooklyn) where we were served plantain chips as a free appetizer. there was a lot of seafood on the menu, but i opted for a half chicken with a baked sweet potato and fried plantain - and of course I sampled emily's and molly's food as well. the portions were huge, which is always a plus because now i have lunch, and probably dinner, tomorrow. it was delicious.

here's my interesting fact for the day: weed delivery services -- think half baked -- are how people get their shit in nyc. amazing.

some photos

This one's for you, tiff.



The naked cowboy in times square. I'm working on getting a frontal pic for the ladies. ow!



Kathy, in the blue, was the mom of the bunch. She was a hoot.



Some kid jumped the fence in left field and ran across the field - he made it all the way to right field before he was tackled by overweight security guys. good shit.



Joey, part of the family from the Bronx. He saw me picking up cups to bring home (hey, I still refuse to buy kitchenware) and offered to give me $20 to buy some at Kmart. I refused due to my good manners. Seriously though, this family was great.



I find it really ironic that they have to put the lyrics to God Bless America on the screen, but not Take Me Out to the Ballgame.



Kristen and I leaving the game.




Kristen, Me Vanessa at the Beauty Bar a block down from my dorm. Happy hour is from 4 - 9 and you can ge a manicure and drink for $10. The nail paitning sucks but a hand massage is always welcome.



The Chicago Tribune ran this photo on their front page a few years back. Good advertisment. [times square, a few blocks south of my office]

girl power ... for real

[thursday] 06 08 06
Yesterday I stopped the subway doors from closing with my body. I felt like such a bad ass. A few of us interns were coming back from a meet ‘n greet happy hour thing at an over priced bar (wouldn’t you think they’d pick someplace cheap considering it was an event for interns, many of whom aren’t paid?) and we were too busy talking to realize we had reached our stop. At the last minute, I looked up to see a 14th Street sign tacked to the pillar on the platform just as the doors were closing. I jumped up, sprinted to the door and pushed out with all my mite until I hear the “da-ding” that means an obstacle is preventing a door somewhere on the train from closing. The sound of success — that obstacle was me.

I’m mentally and emotionally drained. But I have a lot of recapping to do and maybe writing will clear my head. I apologize if this isn’t the most eloquently written entry. Tuesday I went to the Yankess-Red Sox game – Kristen came with me, more for the experience than the baseball game, and I don’t think she was disappointed.

Let me tell you somethings about Yankee Stadium.
1. You can’t get toppings on your hotdogs. Just packets of ketchup and mustard. Even though they have grilled onions back there for the sausages they sell, they refuse to put it on a hotdog.
2. They don’t serve beer in the bleachers. You can’t even go below, buy a beer and drink it inside. The whole bleacher seating section is separate from the rest of the stadium. It’s literally a separate entity.

There’s absolutely no excuse for number one. Number two, however, I came to understand why. The Yankee’s bleachers are different from Wrigley’s. The back row stands up against the wall and heckles fans—verbally and physically—of the other team the entire time. They yell shit and throw shit and I can only imagine that they’d get more physical if they were allowed to drink for seven innings. By the third inning, the entire back row was kicked out of the game – only to be refilled by a new row of people. Then that group was thrown out. They cycle then repeats itself a few times. It was pretty entertaining, especially since it was the greatest rivalry in baseball. They didn’t let people in wearing Red Sox Suck shirts, which I thought was kind of stupid (prior restraint is illegal, even in the case of T-shirts, If I could remember that far back to Helle’s class I could site the exact case. I’ll get back to you).

Even with the lack of beer the game was a great time. I of course wore a Cubs shirt so that made for interesting conversation from the minute I got on the subway in times square through the ballpark and all the way back to union square that night. My response to why I like the Cubs to everyone who asked “we serve beer in the bleachers.” No one could argue with that. I was sitting behind the flagpole, which incidentally is right where Melky made the amazing catch to keep Boston from pulling ahead and possible winning the game. The next night, at that meet ‘n great, they were airing the game during the scheduled game’s rain delay and I was able to pick myself out in the crowd when they showed the play – I was the only on in Cubby blue. It made for another good conversation with my fellow barstool patrons who were sick of shaking hands and “I’m _______. I’m interning at ___________. How about you?” (that got old after two minutes).

Back in the bleachers, I made friends with a family from the Bronx. They bought me hotdogs and shared their peanuts with me. It was fun to have someone to talk shit with as I was rooting for the Sox and they for the Yankees. The mother, Kathy, was funny as hell and the father and uncle were jokers too. Good people.

Work’s been keeping me very busy. Yesterday, I brought tapes home to transcribe and today I work from 9-8. I did, however, get to leave the office for a couple hours to attend the L’Oreal Women in Science Fellowship awards ceremony. It was very empowering. I know that sounds corny, but its really the only way I can describe it. The fellowship awards $20,000 for a woman doing post-doctoral research in any science or medicine related field. The reason they target post-doctoral scientists is because that’s the point in their career many women drop out of the field in order to become mothers. They addressed the issues so many women deal with regarding motherhood and career choices. For example, how can I be a good mother if I’m doing field research in southern Chiapas, Mexico six months out of the year? How can I be a good scientist if I’m not doing field research as much as I should be in order to raise my children. One woman, the scientist I interviewed for the pop mech blog (I’ll link to it when its online), specifically thanked her boyfriend for supporting her while she spent two years in Mexico – and now look at her, getting this amazing award and doing amazing things (this woman specifically researched the effects of hurricanes on shade-grown coffee plantations. This was only because she’d been researching the biodiversity of different types of coffee fields – shade-grown, treeless and in between – for eight years then Hurricane Stan hit the area she was studying). It really made me think about what I want in life, career-wise and family-wise. Women today are lucky in the sense that we don’t have to fight for our education. Yes, there’s still discrimination in the work force and in education, but it’s not like it used to be. Older women scientists, many who paved the way for the women they were awarding to get to their position, presented all the awards. Of course, if a woman wants to put her career on hold, or even end it totally, in order to make a family, that is absolutely fine and is by no means succumbing to the “female role” — it’s the fact that she has a choice in the matter that counts.

At the luncheon I sat next to a woman who’s putting together a Science Festival in Manhattan in 2008. She gave me her card and told me to call her if I decide to move to Manhattan because she’d love to have me on her team. She’s the president and CEO of the organization. I put myself out on a limb and gave her my card (ha, I love that I can do that, even though it’s a buzz card) and offered to do any stringing on the UIUC campus for her. She accepted.

I found some dudes a few floors below who watch lost and smoke. I felt like I was back in Evan’s living room. I'm still staying off the lost message boards, even though my supervisor at work is always trying to send me links to spoiler sights.

Tomorrow’s Friday, thank god. I bought myself New York City’s Best Dive Bars and I’m going to test some out tomorrow. Good night.

hose are so unnecessary

by the way, the verdict in manhattan is no panty hose required. it actually came up in an editorial panel we had the morning I posted that blog about how girls from the midwest, when they come to NY for their first professional interview, they feel like they have to wear pantyhose while they boil into nothing in the heat or else risk looking unprofessional and slutty.

the stereotype was so true. everyone from illinois, ohio and michigan wore hose.

i'm glad we were wrong.

nothing cures a little bit of home sickeness like a chicago movie full of familiar fights

[monday] 06 05 06 ... we're all going to hell
If I were going to be anywhere near Hell, Michigan on 666, i'd sure as hell go there.

Yesterday was definitely the first time i was feeling homesick for my friends, and for Chicago. I think it started when that dumb woman at H & M yelled at me, which made me think how rushed and miserable some manhattaners are, even if they don’t know it. It also didn’t help that everyone back home was at the cubs v. Cardinal game in St. Louis. I really wanted to be there. After all, I’m sure Evan and Lisa didn’t have nearly as much fun without anyone to rub in their win to. And I definitely didn’t have as much fun checking the score and recent plays on the flash gameday viewer at chicagocubs.com. it is an amazing tool for baseball fans—if you’re sitting in the office. On a Saturday or Sunday afternoon when you have nothing of much importance to do, you don’t want to be starting at a browser frame on your laptop that updates after every place (even if it does get down to the location of the pitch), you want to be somewhere with other baseball fans, drinking beers and talking shit.

So after an afternoon in soho — I found an amazing Chinese restaurant with great food and big portions for really cheap — I headed for Brooklyn (park slope to be exact) to check out Emily’s new place and see the breakup. And let me say, Vince Vaughn didn’t cut corners when attempting to portray a real breakup. I’ve definitely said, almost verbatim, some of the things Jennifer Aniston’s character said to Vaughn’s character. First comes to mind “I want you to want to do the dishes.” My god. Second is something to the effect of “you said you don’t like getting flowers. Flowers are a waste of money.” Yeah, I’m still suffering the ramifications of that one. The “get away from me. Don’t fucking touch me” while crying is also a familiar place to be. Lucky for me, my real-life romance didn’t turn out the same way as the films. Although the plot might not have been great and there really wasn’t much drama/romances, props for the first “romantic comedy” I’ve seen to actually talk, behave and respond like real people. Really, the film does an amazing job of replicating going through a breakup …

… but anyway, the film was also good because it gave me a little dose of Chicago: Wrigley field, The Weiner Circle, architecture tours down the Chicago River (Oh Ms. Kobi with the overhead-marker-all-over-her-face. She was a good woman.). I was happy walking out of the theater.

Emily’s place was so cute. She lives in a neighborhood called Park Slope, which according to some native Brooklyners I’ve talked to is essentially Manhattan (it’s about 4 or 5 subway stops in), but I like it because there’s not a gajillion people everywhere you go, and, most importantly, there are neighborhoods. I’ve realized how much I like living in a neighborhood where I know my neighbors and am surrounded by good people. Yeah, I really like the city, and I’m really enjoying it, but I think I’d rather live in Brooklyn than Manhattan when (if) I move out here. I love the old brownstones lined up neatly in a row, flush parallel with the sidewalk but look up and the staggering rooftops and alternating shapes give each block it’s own individual look. The sidewalks are wide and kids play baseball in the street using closed aluminum auto shop doors as backstops.

See, that’s what Chicago is to me—neighborhoods, family, friends—which is probably 1) Why I’m in love with Brooklyn 2) Why being there cured my homesickeness.

When I got out of the subway in Brooklyn, the first thing I saw was an old man, probably Polish, in a fedora and waist high, ankle-length blue polyester slacks. He smiled at me, commented on the beautiful weather that had come out after the rain. I smiled back and agreed, which I guess opened myself up to his jokes about how everyone but himself had a cell phone. “You don’t need ‘em. I’m older than the subway and I don’t need one” … you know, typical old man “When I was your age” jokes.

Work today was amazing once again. I received my first writing assignment and although it’s just a Q&A, I’m getting a bylined piece on my first day! The editor I’m working with is amazing. She’s the head science editor, a cute dresser, very confident with a fun yet no-nonsense attitude. She’s basically a badass woman. I’m so excited to work under someone who’s been very successful in a male-centric world without compromising her femininity. (Of course, if she had wanted to not be feminine at all, that’d be fine too.) Although I don’t get to raid the beauty and fashion closets daily—a friend of mine took home three bathing suits today—the experience I’m getting is amazing!

Once again, I stayed up much longer than I wanted to. Time to go to sleep.

finally, a nightspot I can handle

[sunday] 06 04 06
I think the highlight of my weekend—besides staying in bed Saturday playing on the internet and reading magazines until 4:30—had to be finding a bar that has $1.50 cans of PBR. And I’m told that they show Cubs games as well. Pretty sweet I tell you. Sweet enough that I’ll make the trek from my place on 14th street all the way to 108th street just to go to this place. I think it’s called the Lion’s Den. This is a welcome break from the sweaty, loud, tacky bars around NYU that remind me of a KAMS with a better-dressed and older crowd. Thank God. No matter how cheap the beer is, I can only sit in places like that for so long.

Last night was a nice change of pace. After having a nice dinner at a café on St. Marks that thought they were pretty important (and had prices to reflect), Molly came down with her friend Levi, another magazine intern who stays at Columbia, and we drank some cheap Trader Joe’s wine, listened to music and talked before going out go a comedy club. We arrived at the club just in time to literally hear the last two minutes of the routine, but at least now I know where to go for funny BYOB comedy in NYC. From here we went to the PBR bar. At first we were told they were out of PRB cans. About an hour or so later, I see people drinking cans so one of the guys were with goes to buy a round of aluminum for the table. He come back empty handed because the bartended said they’re still out. Hmmm. Something’s fishy here. There were definitely people in the small bar holding PBR cans. Well, it turns out the guy who attempted the purchase waits to tip until the end of the night so he hadn’t tipped on a single trip yet. Understandably, the bartended was pissed. Sure, you can do that at Murphy’s but not in Manhattan. The bartended was definitely punishing us for what he perceived to be a table of stingy college kids. Eventually someone else from the table, who had been tipping all night, was successful with the Pibbers. All’s well that ends well.

Free Shakespeare starts in Central Park next week.

I dealt with my first bitchy New Yorker today at an H+M in SoHo. The woman started yelling at me about taking too much time in the dressing room. It was something along the lines of “Hey Blondie, I know you want to make sure your girlfriends think you look cute, but there’s a line out here and you don’t need to keep going in and out of the damn dressing room.” I’m not even blonde. To this I promptly shot back “Hey lady, calm yourself. I waited in line for 20 minutes too and I’m going to take as long as I need in here.” She then told everyone in the line that the reason they were waiting so long was because of the “bitch in the third dressing room.” Oh these high fashion SoHoers.

It seems like my job at PM is going to be amazing. They’re lacking in the intern department so my help is definitely needed and I really don’t think I’ll ever be bored. I start on a major project Monday that should keep me busy for the first three or four weeks and we’ll see where it goes from there. My supervisor seems helpful, nice and down to Earth, and she’s a LOST fan. Good shit.

I’m signing off. Its almost 2 and I have to get up at 730. Gah. The gym doesn’t open early enough for me to get in a workout before work. Damn. I’ll have to pump my iron at night.



Mom always said don’t inhale helium

I wish the mayor of my town ran a souvenir shop

boy meet internet

I just added a link of an pretty good index of full-length TV shows on You Tube to the right. check it out

72nd street 1 train i think

The Guggenheim

feed your face

I was glad to see that the Dumpling Man, a little dumpling place on St. Marks that I patronized a few times last summer, was still busy at work persuading East Villagers that we owe our bodies some of his goods. They are pretty damn good. And cheap too.














Another friendly face to buy food from. Must be an East Village thing.

[friday] 06.02.06 (ooohh, the omen is almost here)

Grrr … I just typed this but have to retype it because Word crashed.

Things I’ve learned in NYC:

1) My education at UI has been very thorough and has left me well prepared for the real world. Yes, sitting through Meyer bad-mouthing everything the DI/Buzz ever did until he got to the real point of his lesson, allowing Weinhold to mold my brain into that of a real-world rather than class room copy-editor’s brain, and listening to Martin’s and Dash’s stories have taught me well. So well, in fact, that much of what I’ve heard from the various EIC’s, presidents, EAs and other important people/potential bosses whom I’ve heard speak are lessons that have been ingrained in my mind as a UI journalism undergrad. Who’d a thunk?

2) Drink in college. Drink a lot in college. For real. If you don’t, when you get your first job in a big city, you’ll end up like the girl who never drank in high school and ended up buck ass naked making out with other drunk ass sluts because some dumb ass frat boy said it was a good idea. Please, get your stupid nights (of which everyone is allowed a good amount) out of your system before they occur in a place where the results could be very bad. Knowing your limit a very important lesson to learn that’s best taught in the comfort of good and trustworthy friends.

3) Leveling people will always get your much farther than any other way of dealing with people. Yes, I understand there are times you need to talk out of your ass to save your ass, but I’ve found that that’s very seldom the case. Example: tonight, as I went downstairs to check someone out, I accidentally left my room keys in my laptop lock. Yes, stupid me. But NYU, because of the afore mentioned drunks, charges $20 to get you back into your room if you lock yourself our between 11 p.m. and 8 a.m. And what do I find as I walk out of my room door into the hallway? A drunk girl (again, see above) whom I helped get her head to the trash before she puked all over the common area. She said she had two drinks, and I believe her. She was hurling worse that I was at a certain event back in early April (from what I remember). Well after telling the RA—yes, I have an RA— about the evening and asking him to waive the unlock fee, he did — he understood that I didn’t lock myself out because I was drunk but because when you see a girl with that “I’m not ok” look in her eyes, you do something to help.

Either way, I did get some good people-watching out of the lockout, while waiting for the RA to arrive. The highlight of the evening: it is NOT attractive in the least to walk around in hot pants and a way too-tight halter top from Forever 21 (you know how forgiving their fabric is) with a giant slice of pizza in your hands, smacking your sauce-crusted lips as you sway back and forth banging through the turnstile gate like a pinball. Good thing these particular ladies had a few nice rolls between the bottom of the haltertop and the top of the booty-shorts to serve as bumpers.

Today's the last day of orientation and I meet my EIC and supervisor, the EIC's assistant. I'm wearing a dress shirt, a skirt and fucking panty hose. I hate panty hose. I honestly haven't seen a single woman younger than 40 wearing them, but it's better to overdress I suppose. grr.