“life moves pretty fast. if you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
i am really missing manhattan today. the attached picture is actually not of manhattan, but capetown. same difference. okay, not really, but it’s pretty and i want to visit in the next few years.
i keep telling myself i love brooklyn as much as manhattan, if not more, but that is such a lie. it’s like in Sex and the City when miranda complains about BK and nurturing charlotte says, “i was reading in ny magazine that brooklyn is the new manhattan,” and miranda counters “whoever wrote that obviously lives in brooklyn.”
i probably wouldn’t feel this way if i actually worked in manhattan. oh wait, i technically do. i am perched atop ground zero. literally. i swivel 90-degrees in my chair and i see T-rex cranes and a great big crater.
there is no charm. no history. i mean, there is and there isn’t. history was destroyed and i can’t see the pretty church’s from here. and there sure as hell aren’t any trees or charming boutiques and cafes. it just doesn’t FEEL like manhattan. my home hood is gritty and ghetto and my work hood is a hole in the ground.
then again, what IS manhattan anymore? i wrote a post a while back about the gentrif-erosion of this great borough, and i guess i still feel that way. maybe it’s good that i don’t live in the real manhattan. too many memories. it would only make me sad.
so we’re all aware that obama and mccain are in a virtual tie. but, how do they mean? like, in a world that doesn’t exist? virtual reality? or are they virtually tied. please clarify cnn, thanks. cause in the world where i live, one of them is tied to a tree and the other is virtually awesome! i just got home. my compass broke. i don’t know when it happened exactly. maybe it was when i was walking around my new work hood last week discovering streets i didn’t know exited, or maybe i bumped into someone a little too hard on my ghetto train which i also didn’t know existed, but at some point, it fell away and became a permanent E. should i jump in the east river and tread some water? it is a very sad day when your compass breaks. i’ll tell you that much. despite its inability to tell direction (i will go back to using the empire state building), i will keep it. it’s also a keychain. i got it at an eddie bauer appointment over a year ago and i liked it because it was the same orange as my phone which, apparently, is also on the outs. it’s almost Fall though. things die and then they die hard II. but then they wake up and we can splash around in puddles and pick daffodils for our blue glasses and everything is (virtually) good again.
sorry for the delay. more to come very shortly…stay tuned.
it has been a crazy time. i was away for a few days and accepted a new job.
at last!
eec:
travel tips from a kept woman. i’d be crapping my pants too if i were her.
funny, eden! me too.
i keep dreaming that my teeth are falling out. this is not a laughing matter, folks. everything is fine until i feel a molar become loose. so i put my hand to my mouth and it just rots out of my mouth. then, as if on cue, the others start falling out like dominoes. and i usually have something important the next day, like a job interview, and all i can think is “i wonder if they’ll notice i have gaping holes in my mouth.” and veneers are not an option because it’s a NIGHTMARE, and nothing works out in nightmares! but i do sometimes think about hilary duff and her fake white teeth and i’m afraid that i will become a C-list singer and have fake white horse teeth like her one day, too, and then i wake up in a cold sweat.
according to the a website called “dream moods”:
“Teeth are used to bite, tear, chew and gnaw. In this regard, teeth represent power. And the loss of teeth in your dream may be from a sense of powerlessness. You may be experiencing feelings of inferiority and a lack of self-confidence in some situation or relationship in your life.”
according to my uncle/dentist’s dental technician right before she expertly stuffed my mouth full of gauze:
“That means someone is going to die.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Well I’m Dominican and in my family, that’s what it means.”
“Thanks for your helpful input!”
one of the things about interviewing that is so difficult for me is that i can’t wear jeans. well, okay, i did once, but it was in a dark cafe and to this day i don’t think she noticed. they were really long, wide, dark jeans; the kind that look like trousers. so i think i got a free pass. anyway, i have to look pulled together in something other than my usual uniform of jeans and heels. and i have no money and not many cute clothes at the moment, so i have to be crafty. and it’s tough. i wish i could just wear jeans because i’m so much more confident in denim. would would a shrink say about that?
MONDAY INTERVIEW OUTFIT:
rebecca taylor dress, banana republic cardigan, cole haan black patent peep-toe pumps, ysl cutout cuff, gucci bag, cheesy smile.
FRIDAY INTERVIEW:
club monaco blouse and high-waist trousers, giorgio armani pumps, mom’s childhood charm bracelet, j. crew rhino pendant.
this quiz in DETAILS magazine is great good. “that guy” has become “most guys.” well, okay, not “most,” but “some,” and “some” is worse than “none.” so thanks to the boys (and girl) at Details for at least calling them out on it and directing people’s attention to the fact that we do, in fact, have a “that guy” problem on the rise in America today. only snag is that “that guy” probably doesn’t take the time to read a “dumb quiz” unless there’s a “hot chick” or skull-crusher exercise on the page. wah wah!
believe me, i thought about it; it’s a quick way to make some cash and get exercise while doing it. but have you seen the size of these tourists?
CENTRAL PARK (AP) — here lies john doe’s pedicab. he logged 80,000 miles this year, all between central park south and central park north. he liked chicken wings and mister softee. his face was permanently contorted into a grimace. he had a short attention span and excelled at cat-calling. his back was sweaty and his armpits smelled. his cart went down on july 4th. he picked up a fat lady named kristina. she offered him a donut. he said “no thanks,” she said “just eat it.” he was oddly turned on by the gesture. she stepped on, the cart tippled over like a see-saw, and they flew into a pile of bones, fat, glaze, and powder. “don’t be mad,” said kristina, cushioning him from the fall with her giant busom and armpit fat. “i’ve got more where these came from.” and together, hand in hand, they wobbled back to her doubletree guest suite.
trivial pursuit genus 5 themes from the weekend:
anna kournikova, monday night football, rowan & martin’s laugh-in, the state of california, and the blair witch project. when in doubt, pick one of those. a cocktail eases the pain…of how long this game lasts with two people. you might want an ass cushion and some percocet, too. the liquor does wear off eventually.
do you think he’s into it?
doormen crack me up, man. i encountered this overly modernized plaque on the side of 505 West End the other day. it caught my eye because it was enormous and red. upon further inspection, i found that rachmaninoff had lived there, so i started to read it when the doorman came running out to survey the situation. “can i help you miss?” what the hell does he think i’m doing, prying it off with my spit and hangnails? freak. and if they don’t want people reading it or snapping a shot, why make it a flaming cannonball of a planet on an otherwise bland building? i was like “um, is it alright that i take a picture?” he acted all “oh i never had a problem with you doing that,” and added “there’s a much better plaque around the corner!” “no thanks! i care, but not that much.” people take their shit way seriously. TIDAN!
found it! AMAZING. it doesn’t get any better than this, folks.
