Moving Right Along...

Sorry to say, but I am abandoning this blog. I am bored with the layout and the fact that there is no creative flexibility. I just set up a new one on wordpress, here is the link, so go go go! Read!


http://theadventuresofkristine.wordpress.com/

As you can see, it's going to be the same content, but once I figure it all out, will have the freedom to make the page personalized and my very own.

Stay tuned : )

Happy Halloween....? Kinda.....

Hmmmm. What part of "Hee Haw" screams Halloween? I literally just left my apartment this morning when I noticed it, did a double take, and HAD to go in for a closer look. I never realized that my next door were cowboys or some sort of a southern breed. Who else would think to carve "Hee Haw" in a pumpkin vs. a classic scary or silly face?

Fool Proof Way For Instant Chuckles:

Run into Richard Simmons! Yes my friends, this picture to our right was pretty much the scene of the crime.

Last Friday, I was walking in Times Square on my way to work in a VERY foul mood. Why? I have no idea. Perhaps it was due to the upcoming slow day at work or maybe because I was tired and didn't feel like going in. Regardless, I was stomping quite a bit and wearing one of my very favorite pouts.

While looking around determining which would be the best path to take, as to avoid random gathered crowds and tourists, I had two routes. Either stampeding myself through a big group in front of ABC's Morning Show or through a mediocre crowd around someone. PSHH. It must be a D-list star who I wouldn't care to see or mind knocking over. At the same time, you know I'm also extremely nosey and needed to see who we were all crowded around. It was none other than Richard Simmons! Dancing! Shaking his hips and waving his jazz hands! And yelling all these incoherent things. It was wonderful and I immediately burst with laughter and smiled and snickered the entire way to work.

<3>

Not Fit For The Office

Allegedly I NEVER dress appropriately at the office. Sure, I am aware that I dress on the casual side. There are a couple tattoos visible, wore colorful dresses and sandals all summer, and don't care to wear things that will make me miserable all day, but I thought that with an occasional mix of preppy-ness, overall I wasn't that bad.

Um yeah, apparently I have just been delusional.

This morning while rummaging through my "in between the seasons clothes", I came across this short sleeved black sweater with a little bit ruffled white collared short sleeve shirt underneath. I haven't worn it in a very long time. Well obviously. It's been summer. Anyway, I paired it up with a black skirt and black ballerina flats and headed out the door. While walking to work, I realized my poor edgy bob, who is in dire need of a cut, started to flip all over the place, so grabbed a head band out of my bag, and off I went. OK. I get it. Not my everyday style. For example, lets go back to perhaps Tuesday. I wore this wonderful, but odd, dress from Bali (was once my Granny's) with a little brown cardigan and brown boots. Or maybe we can take any old day when I add weird and colorful jewelry to an already overly bright ensemble. Basically, yeah, I guess today is not your typical Kristine. In my own defense, I thought I looked cute. But instead, completely freaked everyone out.

In the day thus far, I have gotten,

"Wow you look so serious. Like you should be serving drinks on a plane".

Great.

Next comment was alittle better.

"Omg your so preppy today, I almost didn't recognize you until I saw the tattoo on your neck"

An "aww you look cute today" was thrown in. That's fine.

Then the finale. The most annoying comment made was as follows: "Why are you so dressed up? What? Are you going somewhere", with a look of suspicion.

I replied with, "um I'm not, didn't have anything to wear today."

I don't get it. Rest assure co-workers, I'll be back to being the office mess tomorrow.

Man On Fire!

Tuesday night the game plan was to get back to Hoboken quickly and make dinner for Chia, Jay, & Andrew. MM by the way, dinner was lovely. I should have taken pictures! I made chicken terriyaki, a recipe brought to us by Shape Magazine. While looking around for recipe ideas (I always like to try to make new things), Chia's criteria was basically something tasty, but light. It was great and definitely a dish I'll be making again.

ANYWAY. After work, Andrew & I met up with the plan on going into Hoboken together. While walking along Sixth Avenue, chatting about the day and what not, allegedly a fire ball blew into the air and a hallal-cart-man burst into flames!! I didn't actually see the fire ball, but next thing you know, the man took off down the street on fire and let me tell you, it was unreal. Almost too shocking to do anything shocking. Luckily, other people around were more alert and about ten or so rushed towards the burning man with the shirts off their backs to put him out.

Moments after getting over the shock, one of us commented on why he didn't just stop, drop, & roll. And the other said something along the lines of - oh I know! It's like the first thing you learn in school! I know. Real nice. Later, I thought about it and I'm sure when you're in that kind of panic, set on fire and all, you don't think clearly and just go into shock. OR maybe in his country (perhaps Turkey) stop, drop, & roll wasn't emphasized in the school system like here.

So we stood, jaws dropped, & amazed by the scene taken place. Then we noticed an upside-down gas can, next to the halal cart, slowly beginning to set fire as well!! So we followed our first instincts and power walked the other way, in case the gas can exploded, causing the entire truck to do the same.

Yeah, my karma is just getting better and better. In all fairnessness though, what do either of us know about grease fires and extinguishing them? If anything, we did them a favor by staying out of the way and not creating a panic. No running or trampling over anyone took place. We just got the hell out of the way.

30 Days Of Yoga!

Long story short, my friend E & I's ghetto gym has recently closed with no explanation. In the past week or so we have been trying to come up with a decent alternative. Honestly, the only reason I even went to the gym was for yoga, pilates, & cardio. This particular gym however was super shiesty, hasn't charged me for 6 months (thank you :) ), and may or may not have been seized by the IRS.

We figured it was time for a different plan and decided that instead of getting in at another gym, would join a yoga studio and take the cardio outdoors. Surprise surprise, joining a studio is pretty expensive, so we have taken time each day to search for a good deal.

Last week I found it. "30 Days for $30 Yoga Challenge" at the NYC Bikram Yoga Studio!

OMG

How amazing? It's pretty self-explanatory. For 30 days E & I will be doing yoga. Every single day. HOW AMAZING.

If you are wondering, yes it's going to be miserable the first week. In case you aren't familiar with different types of yoga, Bikram is practiced in a room heated at a 100 degrees for about 90 minutes. It's unreal. Between sweating profusely and gulping down gallons of water, you leave feeling completely cleansed. Image doing that every single day? I feel like it's going to be the ultimate detox.

E & I are curious about the aftermath of the 30 day challenge. Will we leave this experience as super vegans? God I hope not. I don't know if I could seriously say, "don't eat flesh" with a straight face Will we quit our jobs promptly after, move to Washington (state, not DC), and live on some sort of commune, living green and off the earth? That would be better. Or perhaps we will go to Australia and get trained to be yoga instructors. EVEN better. Or. Most realistically, it will be a wonderful chance to cleanse the body & soul and see life a little bit clearer.

Stay Tuned....

Parade Of Asians

Spotted: 53rd & Madison. 9:01 am. 200 senior citizen Asians, wearing red shirts & matching hats, slowly (and I mean SLOWLY) parading their way down 53rd. Guess who somehow got stuck in the middle of this? Typical.

Poor Pick-Up Attempt: Walk From the PATH Edition

Last night I had a wonderful classic date night. Dinner - mm Thai. Movie - "Burn After Reading", which was pretty good. John Malkovich was hilarious, & then a drink and some good conversation. Couldn't have been better. Afterwards, I waited for the stupid PATH and then made my way back to Hoboken. The PATH is OFFICIALLY on the shit list after making me wait an hour plus Saturday night, causing me get home after 5 and then sleeping til 1:30 pm the next day. Yeah yeah I know, it's my own fault for staying out late, but come on! An hour plus! Doesn't the path know people are out and about on Saturday nights desperately trying to get back to Hoboken?!!!

(Sorry about the rant. Anyway...)

So just to show me how much it despises me, again I had to wait a considerable amount of time. When I finally got back to Hoboken, I merrily bopped along, re-playing the night in my head and thinking what a good time I had, when all of a sudden I saw an image walking up towards me. Great. I don't know what it is about me that strangers feel the need to say weird things. Maybe they think I want to do the same, but there he was. Skinny. Had a super shiny face. Looked like he was 18. Wearing tight jeans.

"Hey....um you.."....

I turned around and he was awkwardly smirking at me.

"Um...yeah, your flip flops are too loud. heh heh. Way too loud".

I looked at him again, rolled my eyes and replied, "Right. Ok. Well good thing I'm turning here then huh?"

And off I went.

It could be either of two things:

(a) As a possible 18 year old, that brand of wasteful conversation works for him when chatting girls up. Bad for him, I was still basking of a night gone well and quite frankly don't need the bullshit dialogue.

(b) He was drunk/and or stoned/whatever and perhaps in the crazy land of his mind, maybe my flip flops were too loud.

Or (c) all of the above.

I'm going with (c)

Random Act of Gentlemenly Kindness

While leaving the chaos that is the morning rush of Port Authority, it is near impossible to smile or think happy thoughts while being pushed this way and that. How do I paint the scene? Think of total chaos for one small block. Between the Am New York and Metro guys thrusting their arms towards you competing to give away their free newspapers & slow moving tourists overwhelmed to which way to go, you literally have to elbow and push in order to get to the street.

This morning, like any other morning, I was frowning and raging in my mind behind a slow moving sea of Germans. All of a sudden the equally fast moving chick next me stopped short and realized her heel was stuck in one of those subway floor vent things in the middle of the street. As in there was traffic coming. Not fun. The man in front of us stopped and dove down in an extremely non- creepy way to help her get her heal out. He then asked her if she was OK and merrily continued his way to work. Her & I were in awe. We found one of the last gentlemen in the city! Any other business man would have pushed her out of the way and then cursed the situation for making him a minute or two behind schedule.

I inspire to be this wonderful whistling man, well minus the aiding damsels in distress. What inner peace he must have to whistle his way to work via Port Authority.

An End Of An Era....

It's a little bit behind, but I feel I should probably talk about a true end of an era for us musical theatre people of NYC.

RENT IS GONE. Omg just put me out of my misery. Rent is off Broadway FOREVER. I don't know if there is any reason to be in NYC or live.

Ok fine, I won't be so melodramatic. It is just sad and even though I haven't seen it in a year or so, will miss it's presence in Midtown and on my walk home from work each day.

To torture myself, I walked by the empty vessel of the greatest Rock Musical of our time last week. And it was disturbing. There waere trucks, boxes, and pieces of the set on the street. One of the side doors of the stage was open and as pathetic as it sounds, of course I stopped dead in my tracks, became one of the street-stopper walkers I loathe, and lurked in. I don't know why I did it. I guess I needed to see it in person to realize that it is gone and out of my life. And yes, that was a tear rolling down my cheek.

Why I'm Still Single : A Wednesday Edition

First of course, updates & a quick work of advice.

Last we spoke about my living situation, our crappy roommate was moving out. This week, she asked Meg if she could push her move-out date from October to November 1st because her plan fell through I guess and wanted to move-in with her sister. Psh. We agreed that a) why should we go out our ways to help her out when she has not been friendly, considerate, or a good roommate in the months we lived with her b) it's her own bad karma for giving us so short notice. Now she has to do the scrambling around making plans. Sorry sister, but the world does not revolve around you. c) showing the apartment sucks. We have like 4 people coming to see it tonight and 2 tomorrow. Showing the apartment = not having a life. We want to get someone in there ASAP.

So I saw the alleged crappy roommate last night and said hello. What did I get? An evil blank stare. OH hell no. I went right into my room, texted Meg with a "oh that Crappy Bell. I walked into the apartment and said hello to her and she ignored me. She is sooooooo out!" HELL no am I helping out someone who doesn't have enough courtesy to even say hello.

Nexxxt

Quick word of advice: NEVER go out on a Tuesday night, drink 2 large mix drinks, and then follow them with 2 shots of Jaiger and then another one of vodka. Your just asking for trouble. I mean, luckily I've never been there, but I've heard it causes you to be miserable all day and arrive an hour late to work. Oooopsa

Ok. Now the reason to this post.

(The scene: At a local bar around the corner. Kristine, the star of the show, is chatting up her friend Nina, whom she hadn't seen in awhile)

Stranger: Excuse me...I love your tattoo! (sniffling giggle) I think I'm going to get the same one!
Kristine: Oh, (fake laugh) nice..?

(Kristine looks at the stranger and notices he is a very short petite old man. Typical, she thought. This is apparently the only breed of people attracted to her anymore. Not only is he way out of her dating age range, but she could pick him up and put him in her pocket)

(Later. She sees someone else she knows and proceeds to chat him up. Coincidentally, the pocket old man is friends with friend chatter).

Pocket Old Man: (mumbles under his breath) are you smitten with anyone?
Kristine: excuse me? Huh? What did you say?
Pocket Old Man: I said, 'are you smitten with anyone'?
Kristine: (thrown off) oh, ha, I don't know, I guess not. Well maybe. Kind of. Well.
Pocket Old Man: (giving her a look of confidence) well, (yet another sniffle giggle) that's good for me then.
Kristine: ha...right.

Seriously. This is all I can hope for out of life. Senior Citizens that I can push around in a stroller.

The Valley Of Empty Staircases

What do you think would happen if, for one day, we turned off all the escalators in the City? I know what would happen. People would go into a frenzy and immediately stampede to the nearest elevator. They would REFUSE to take a step near the lonely staircase,who would then feel depressed and have to contemplate what it ever did to become so unpopular.

Working in the city, commuting, being in places that are publicly used, moving up and down, above and below ground, there are 3 ways in getting where you need to be. The elevator, the escalator, and the lowly staircase.

I got to thinking about this the past few weeks, while watching 7,000 people mush themselves onto a crowded escalator, when all the while there was a mere 1-2 people brave enough to venture up and down the staircase. Why be so lazy? When you think about it, most of us commuting at 8ish in the morning and later 5ish at night sit the majority of the day away. Shouldn't we take advantage of the space between to move around some?

I'm a staircase kind of girl unless I am carrying obscene amounts of bags (which happens often because I'm a vagabond) or am miserably hungover. I feel though, in cases that you need to ride the escalator should use it as a tool to move faster, not to take a break. I hate HATE when you are stuck on a 1 laned escalator and people just stand around, basking and enjoying their ride. That's whats great about 2 laned escalators. The lazies or those who have two much luggage to pass can stay to the right and us fast-movers have the ability to zip on by. BUT THEN you got to love the couples who need to stand next to each other to "escalator spoon" or tourists who don't understand NYC commuting etiquette and take up both lanes, leaving us "I need to be running or else I'm angry" commuters pouting and shaking our fists in rage.

I fear technology. I fear it's ability to create a world where we don't need to move or think to get through the day. Whats next for our future NYC? Side walks who ask were your going and then slide you to your chosen destination? Body-robot doubles who live the entire day for you and then tell you all about it at night?

I'd rather take the stairs.

Home Sweet... Railroad Style Apartment..?

I awoke Thursday morning in a great mood. I had an awesome night sleep & it was my last day of work before the 4-day Labor day holiday. I grabbed a towel or two and headed down the hallway to the bathroom to take a shower. I open the door to the living room and am shocked to discover two people laying across my couches. Fine fine, I don't care. My roommate Courtney had some friends sleep over. They probably went out late and decided just to crash out our place. I have had people sleep over, so I have no problem if my roommates do the same. As I quietly tip-toed through, attempting to not wake anyone up, I stopped dead in my tracks.

They were tangled up IN MY SHEETS. I repeat - strangers on our couches. In. MY. Clean laundered sheets. As in they had to physically go through our linen closet, pull out all my crap (they were flannel sheets and on the bottom of the pile) and bring them over to the couch.

I was AMAZED. Courtney & I are NOT friends. If my other roommate Meg did that, I wouldn't have even noticed. She can take whatever because if the situation arose, she would have probably washed them. And then told me. And then folded them back nice. Not Courtney. Oh no no, her and her friends were apparently too good for that and hastily shoved them back the next morning.

It got me thinking about roommates. One of the problems with a great city like New York is that because we all want to be here, rent is astronomical. If you don't have the desire to be in NYC, the idea of sharing a closet with 17 other people or living in a railroad style apartment is unheard of.

About 16 months ago (give or take) that was me. I got my first job in the city and wanted the NYC experience Obviously I could NEVER afford anything in Manhattan, so went for the next best thing - Hoboken. And let me tell you, it is a great wonderful place to live. Beautiful and safe. But it too is getting more and more expensive. I mean where else in the world can a landlord feel justified in upping the rent in a room the size of a bathroom. But I guess it's worth it if you have a 30 minute ride (if that) into the city.

When I moved into Hoboken, the only thing I cared about was getting there. I didn't care who I lived with or how small the room was. All I wanted was something mostly furnished (because I have nothing) and on the cheaper side (again because I have nothing). I found an adorable place to live with 2 chicks (thank you craigs list). It was awkward at first because they were friends, but later we got to know eachother and were cool. The only issue was the fact that the apartment is railroad style, meaning my roommate Megan had to walk through my bedroom to get the rest of the apartment.

Around December, Joanne (the other roommate) dropped the bomb that she was moving out and immediately Meg & I got an ad up for a new roommate. Thank the good lord I got to move out of the walk-through and into Joanne's HUGE room for a mere $25 extra. Seriously. It is a gem.

In a fit of desperation, we gave the room up to this dude Ben. How do I explain Ben? He is basically a filthy-goat- stew- eating no-personality-weirdo-pot head, who happens to be a microscope salesman. We were amazed how he could possible be a salesman because he sucks soo bad. His room consisted of his huge microscope, a half-deflated air mattress, and some random boxes. Luckily for us, he only lasted a month or two. I'd just like to say thanks to Ben ordering a whole bunch of movies on paid per view before he left.

Then we got Courtney, who I guess is fine, in the aspect that she's never around and if she is, stays to herself and doesn't make much noise. What gets me is that if you are both home, she will NEVER initiate conversation unless you ask her 20 questions. Only time I have talked her was when she was upset about something or I was drunk and apparently chatty.

She is moving out Oct. 1st, so it makes Meg & I wonder whether a) we just have bad luck with the little room or b) perhaps we are bad roommates who are hard to live with.

But that's silly, what am I saying? Between the two of us, we are never around, super clean, and laid back. So maybe it is the room. All I know is it BETTER be filled by Oct 1. So if you know anyone looking for a cheapy room in Hoboken with yours truly as a roommate, let me know!

And Just When We Thought It Couldn't Get Any Worse....

Texts last night between E & I during the season premiere of the new 90210.

Me : ok how about all the teachers on the new 90210 are super hot.
E: Right? I'm in love

(After the show)

Me: It was actually not that bad, I'll def watch again.
E: Ha I thought it was terrible but I'm still going to watch! Because I'm that sad.

Oh Thank God Your Back

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before, but I really love bad television. As in, I'm pretty sure I have TV maturity of a 17 year old. So you could probably guess what I like to watch. The Hills? Yes. All the Real World/Road Rules challenges/Gauntlets etc.? Of course. I Love NY, Flavor of Love, Rock of Love, and ANYTHING else VH1 tells me to watch? Well yeah, they told me to, what can I do?

But my absolute favorite thing to watch now, the TV show that I am obsessively way to excited about is....(drum roll please)

GOSSIP GIRL

I love it, I love it, I love it. And you know what, I'm not ashamed of loving GG . It's just soo good.

Last night, Chia & E came over my place (god bless Chia with her stocks of dips and chips at home). The three of us sat around my television with bubbling excitement to see what our ficitonal friends have been up to all summer.

*sigh*

Tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how pathetic are we for actually clapping and yelling, "thank god Gossip Girl is back! How did we survive the entire summer without it!?"

Even worse is the fact that I now live life parallel to television. One of the characters, Nate (who is INSANELY hot) is having an affair with an older married woman. Later on, I fell asleep, blah blah dream dream, and the next thing you know, I was the one having the affair with Nate (in my dream world). Is this really where my life has come to? I have no romantic prospects on the horizon (oh, we'll get into that in a later blog) so am forced to dream about fictional characters.

But, what makes watching the show even better is coming to work Tuesday mornings and clicking on NY Magazine's blog "The Daily Intel" where they tear the episode apart and we viewers get to relive all the great realistic moments to the "that is SO fake" moments.

http://nymag.com/daily/intel/2008/09/where_the_chuck_have_you_been.html

I read somewhere that there will be 22 episodes this season. Count it - 22! So, thank you WB for being, in general, a crappy TV station, but somehow providing us with the best television show of our time.

: )

KC <3's Caffeine

Don't think I forgot about you carbs! I love you as well! But the difference here is I don't think I could survive without you.

As a silly experiment, I thought it would be interesting to detox from caffeine, wondering if I was actually dependent.

Yes. Yes I am.

I went for about a week without caffeine and noticed my body feeling a bit sluggish. I figured it must be that I was going through withdrawl and would wait it out.

Week two I broke my detox and happily drank a large cup of coffee one hungover morning and I found my heart pounding way too fast and felt almost uncomfortable in my skin. What the? I used to never feel this affect. But then again, my body hasn't not had caffeine in yearrrrs.

I immediately got a flashback of last year, where I was taking in the most amount of caffeine.

Back at my old office, I would be up and down the elevator twice a day re-filling my coffee. Then one day, me, E , and one of our other co-workers Greg decided that it was time to join forces and up the coffee factor. I brought in a coffee maker, someone else brought in a box of splenda and fat free milk, and the other would purchase the french vanilla dunkin donuts coffee.

Because it was there, we way over did it. Pot and pots of coffee were constantly being drank & re-brewed, to the point that I'm sure our other co-workers didn't know what to do with us because we three were bouncing off the walls.

Anyway, when did I give in? WELL, last night I was trying to work on a new literary endeavour and could not keep my eyes open. Seriously, I passed out around 10:30. I woke up this morning and was like, "screw this, back to caffeine"

As soon as I walked into work this morning, grabbed the biggest mug I could find and happily drank myself into a sweet wonderful caffeine induced frenzy. It's good to be back : )

BAD BAD News

According to http://www.the-leaking-cauldron.org/, Harry Potter's new release date is JULY 17, 2009!

OMG OMG. WHY Warner Brother's why!??? It was supposed to open this coming November. I don't know if I can make it.

You Know What's Attractive?

Drunky little me STARVING, devouring the biggest burrito of my life in literally three seconds. I have vague memories of myself joyfully covered in guacamole & sour cream, as if it was my first birthday and was being introduced to the cake.

Oh, The Luxury Of Ingredients: The Breakfast Edition

An omelet (obviously), with spinach, olives, fresh basil from the garden (naturally), and feta cheese. Accompanied with toasted rye bread.

Now you probably figure that I must have gone food shopping and become inspired to grow a garden on my fire escape. Oh how I wish it was true, but alas, I am lazy & poor. Any chance of growing anything on the fire escape would be out of the question because our kitten gets out there and would eat up the veggies in a minute. If she didn't, than I'm sure a squirrel or pigeon would. Do pigeons like basil or mint? Well certainly, the ones who are tired of seeds and bread scraps would.

This lovely omelet was constructed at my parent's place on Sunday morning. I woke up and I immediately thought of their overly stocked fridge and garden and decided to treat myself. MM. So tasty. I brought my entire spread out to the deck to enjoy my breakfast and read the newspaper.

Dates For The Single Girls

It's great when your single and have lots of single girl friends. Without them, who would truly understand and appreciate the good, bad, and ugly dating adventures? As I mentioned a few blogs back, I got super drunk (oopsa) before meeting up for a drink date a week or two ago and onlyvaguely remember meeting with him. Strange enough, I never heard from him again. Well after I apologized, via text, for being a drunken nightmare, got a reply saying,

"it's ok, your lucky I'm so forgiving : ) "

Uckk. Obviously, he is desperate. No human being in their right mind should want to date me after the horror show that I displayed.

I never called him. He never called me. Done & done.

Then this week rolled along, and low & behold yours truly, plus two of my gal pals all had dates lined up. (Well one refuses to call it a date, but we know better). Mine was on Wednesday and before I went, these are the last parting words from two of my friends:

Emily: don't get too drunk! Sip!
Mhern: have fun!!!! don't get tipsy!!!

Great. Just great. I swear, that was the only date I ever showed up drunk. Seriously. And it wasn't even like I was super interested in him. So there.

The night turned out to be great. Really. Rarely do I see potential or interest in any one. Most people I am left with feelings of, "meh. nice guy, not bad, ho hum. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to hangout with him again." or "ABSOLUTELY not. I never want to see this person again. Too passive. Way too corny and accommodating. Weird 1/2 tooth. Too short. Weirdo hairy knuckles. Too bald. Pathetic. No conversation" and on and on and on. You get the picture.

But this guy I went out with, I really can't say a bad thing. I had a genuine good time. So now I'm left with the dilemma of what now? Will we ever hangout again? Maybe it was all in my head, he wasn't all that impressed with me, the tables have turned, and I'll never hear from him again? You know, stupid girl blah blah blah. I choose from now on to just go with it and see how things play out.

Mornings before and after dates usually consist of "So how did it go?" or "Are you excited? Nervous? Do you want to see him again..." blah blah blah

I was thinking about it yesterday and feel bad for guys because girls talk about EVERYTHING. Seriously, if I was a guy, I'd be cursing the creators of "Sex & The City", who gave girls permission to not only have sexual standards, but talk freely about everything. Two of my oldest friends & I have talked openly about pretty much anything since we started having anything good to talk about, but "Sex & The City" helped piles and piles of girls learn conversation skills to share their adventures.

Guys of course talk about stuff to a certain extent. How could they not? They are the journalists of details. They generally mention the Who, what, where, when, why, & anything weird and out of the ordinary. Rarely have I heard guys get into serious specifics. But then again, I'm a girl and how many guys want to gush about their sex lives with me? Girls on the other hand get into DETAILS. Gentlemen beware, if there is something super different or not desired by the female race, we are going to find out. That's probably why for so long women were not "supposed" to talk about their sex lives or really get into the good stuff. Men probably feared that once women started talking and discussing whats good, normal, etc., they would start making demands. Men would then have to start making an effort, stop being so selfish in bed, and start playing by our rules. Once Sex & The City hit, the power has shifted in someways and I think that's great.

So apparently I sound like a feminist a bit? To tone it down some, there are also instances when there is no need to say anything and I think that's when it's the best. We talk out of excitement, humor, disgust, or simply just to talk. But when things are at their best, I don't think you need to get into it or actually know how to express it. And that's definately what I hope for in my life.

Yet Another Immaculate Bob

I know, I know. Disgusting and I look miserable.

In my own defense, there are a few factors to consider:

(a) This picture was taken early and I'm not really wearing any makeup.

(b) I'm at work, so obviously I have a little pout on.

(c) It is god awful humid out, so the bob never had a chance.

Ahhhhhh way better. I wish you could see if from

the back to understand new Bob's beauty.

All I can say is I am very happy with it and found

a chick who works wonders on my hair.

AND the place is right around the corner from

my work.

Sloppy Nation

The business man in the beautiful pin stripe suit couldn't help but admire his reflection each time he walked by a store front. With his olive skin and shiny black hair, he was a man that exuded confidence and high class. He continued to walk down 55th Street and all the while basked in the sun and welcomed the beautiful August day. He looked down and noticed a man sitting on the steps of a church and thought to himself, "man, my life is great. I should really share the wealth with the less fortunate."

So with that, he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out what it appeared to be a shiny gold coin, perhaps a Sacajawea. Leaning down, he put it in the man on the steps hand, while giving him a smile, as if to say, "despite being a gross un-showered homeless man, I still consider you an equal human being".

And he whistled walking away, felt saturated in generosity.

Meanwhile, the man on the steps looked perplexed.

HE WASN'T HOMELESS.

I was walking behind this scene last week and actually laughed out loud. Why did the man in the suit assume the dude on the steps was homeless just because he was sitting around?

Then the Suit's phone rang and he started jabbing away in what sounded like Italian.

Is that really was the Europeans think of us? We Americans are just a country filled with filthy homeless people? I guess I would too if I was some classy Parisian, where my home was the place style was given birth to. NYC is supposed to be the fashion capital of the country, but have you seen some of horrors on the street? And I would have to include myself in this category too.

Compared to a well dressed European, I got nothing to work with here.

That got me thinking about how sloppy a nation we truly are. How often do you notice people out on the streets who obviously just jumped out of bed minutes earlier. I cringe at the sight of stretched out velour tracksuits intertwined with a frumpy stay-at home mom body, topped with a crazy-lady-hair -scrunchy combo. Honestly, I often feel intimidated when I have a bad hair day (ugh like today. you should see the edgy bob. It has obviously grown since the cut late June, so now it's mutated into a weirdo shabby bob. Good thing I'm getting a haircut later) or am not wearing the best possible outfit when walking down Fifth Avenue in a pack of the fashionable Europeans.

I think a big difference is that they choose quality over quality. While Americans bask in the notion of owning 8000 pairs of flip flops, Europeans will have 3 pairs of the most beautiful and exquisite shoes ever to grace the earth.

Sure we have some fashion and style here, but how do we compare our homeless to their equivalent, the gypsies? Our homeless just sit around, pan handle, and make people feel uncomfortable. Why even yesterday while jetting off to the subway, I encountered one who was shaking and ticking as if he just swallowed a bomb minutes from explosion, muttering to himself, "must not get hit by the rain. The rain will make me wet, the rain will make me wet." About a minute later, I almost got knocked over by one proclaiming, "having sex with a woman IS A SIN", over and over and over again.

At least theirs are nomads, play music ,and keep the people entertained. If our homeless were eccentric and talented, I would be wayyy more generous with my quarters, nickels, & dimes. Alas, they are all borderline crazy, so I will continue to keep my head down & pretend they don't exist

Bad Karma KC

Whenever something goes wrong in my life I immediately blame it on karma and the fact that I am obviously being punished for something I've done in my life. And despite my efforts in being a good human being, I can count on my fingers & toes experiences in life that I am not too proud of. And most of those experiences involve alcohol. Ooopsa.

This morning I am greeted to work with an email reprimanding me doing something that was not my fault, but an error of someone I assist. Now you may be saying, "oh Kristine, just suck it up and take responsibility for your wrong doings". I suppose I should have been paying closer attention, but regardless, I was given orders to change something, without any knowledge to why it was being adjusted. So this just swooped the day into miserable-madness.

THEN. I got some bill from a dentist appointment I had LAST NOVEMBER, claiming I owe them $450....but why? Isn't that what insurance is for? OHHH NO HOO apparently not and apparently they never took the insurance. But how did I find this particular dentist? Oh that's right, on the insurance's website. So they gave me some bullshit explanation and that it is my responsibility to make sure the doctor sends the insurance the claim. And what else? I will have to pay and there is nothing I can do about it.

(snarl, a little whimper and a sigh)

"Thank you for calling Reliance Standard Health Insurance. You opinion counts. Would you take a brief survey about the level of assistance we just provided?"

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME? BADDDDD assistance. No no no!"

(Phone slammed)

As I sat there and started shaking the woes of the day out of my head, the next bomb dropped.
I received a text from my roommate, Courtney that said,

"Hey girls, I wont be around this weekend...

Ok. I don't care. When are you ever around? And p.s., we don't hang out.

"And I just wanted to give you a heads up that I'm looking to move out by 9/15."

OH GOD. Isn't that just great.

So what am I being punished for you ask? Well it could one of many things:

1) Complaining about my current situation, when in fact it's not all that bad compared many others.

2) The fact that I lived most of my life as a horror of a daughter to my parents, giving them daily grief and I'm sure wondering what went wrong in their parenting.

3) I've been selfish and un-intentionally inconsiderate with other people's feelings.

4) I never donate money to worthy causes and NEVER stop at lemonade stands.

5) I am awkward and I'm sure that equals mean to children & senior citizens.

I can only imagine how the rest of the day plays out.

It is only 4:06.

We still have a lot more day to live.

Update: Maybe Don't Say Yes To Everything..

When we last spoke, I was toying with the idea of embracing all opportunities and just saying yes. Yes to dates I was once weary of. Yes to new experiences. Yes to new and exciting different foods. Yes yes yes.

But then we must remember that I am all things excessive, so maybe saying yes to everything is not such a good idea. One more after party? Yes! One more cocktail? No, make it two! Never go home on a work night? Good call!

I had my date scheduled and ready to go with my bar boyfriend, but then remembered I had a work event that I absolutely had to attend. I gave him a call to see if he either a) wanted to go out afterwards or b) re-schedule. He was down meeting after, remembered me rambling on about how much I liked Thai food, so suggested to come meet me at my office around 8:30, we'd take a cab downtown, and get some Thai. That sound's good right? And for the girl who only takes cabs in times of necessity or luxury, all very wonderful.

The event at my office was on our 33rd floor terrace, with the theme of "Outdoor BBQ". It was very cute and had potential to be a blast. Um open bar & free food, what's not to love? Except because I am an assistant, had the job of working the event, with the fabulous job of greeting guests, guiding them to the bar and bag check. Luckily, the bar was inches away and after a co-worker or two suggested I should bring a drink to the front, happily agreed and that was when it all went down hill.

1 glass of wine
2 glasses of wine
3 glasses of wine
4 glasses of wine

Throw in a couple of walk-around appetizers and an asparagus panini and I got a bit of social-drunky. Everyone has their own definition of social drunky. Some get way too honest. Some get mean and way too blunt, touchy- feely, or emerge as super chatty McChatterson. That was were I fit in, which I'm sure mind boggled my co-workers because I generally do not speak at work. All of a sudden, propelled by glasses of white wine, not only chatted co-workers up, but clients as well! And I'm not going to lie, but I had a pretty good time.

Around 8:30 the party was in full force and everyone was planning on moving it along to a bar across the street. I called bar bf and cancelled on him because I didn't want to leave clients and co-workers and he was totally cool and understanding and down to do it some other time.

Wouldn't that be nice if this was the end of the story? Oh its not. We have way more night to cover.

So we all go across the street, where I quickly and stupidly switched over to vodka sodas, mingled a bit, and then left. No memory of saying goodbye to people and I'm pretty sure I just snuck out knowing I shouldn't be in the presence of superiors in the state I was quickly going into.

So I went home.
Ha if only...

At that point, I figured I may as well call bar bf to meet for a drink, because obviously I so needed one, and he lived right around there anyway. I called him and we met up. From what I gather, it was raining, I had NO umbrella, and walked right by him. I can only assume he had a great time with images of his future girlfriend dancing in his head with me, the belligerent wet dog, who muttered things like "you better not bar snuggle with me like last time" and "I am soo taking of work tomorrow or I'll be missssserable".

Somehow we parted ways. I got myself safely to Hoboken and then emailed my bosses to let them know I would be taking a summer Friday.

(The end)

A revision to living life with a yes attitude: Say yes if you never do, but if your a girl of excess like me, simply be open to the world with a positive prospective

If I had my way, I'd never go home, stay out to the last possible second, and burn the candle at both ends for the rest of my life. Thankfully, there is still a little whisper in the back of my head that ghostly murmurs, "goooo home.....you don't want to be miserable tomorrow.....gooo toooo yogaaa.....you don't need to buy another party dress...."

Say Yes To Life!

Ahhh after a mere week or so, I completed yet another of Augusten Burrough's memoirs " Wolf At The Table", which by the way was wonderful. If you haven't had a chance to ever read any of his work, go! Quickly! Go to Barnes & Noble, the library, or ask and I'll lend you a copy. His life is an absolute inspiration for anyone of strength and overcoming huge obstacles, and all the while still making a huge success in life and as a person.

In a panic of nothing to read, I turned to the category of books I own that I can read over and over again. These are basically the in between books when nothing I have is striking my fancy at the moment, but I need something.... So I turned to a much loved book , "The Year of Yes", by Maria Dahreana Headley.

Ever read it? Her book was hysterical and a 1-2-3 read. After a lifetime of bad dating and constant weirdos hitting on her, Maria discovered she was her own worst enemy and had no judgement when it came to the people she dated. For one year, she said yes to every single person that asked her out. I won't spoil the ending, but she takes the reader on a roller coaster ride of some just weird guys all the way down to god-awful crazies. And I'm not talking in a good way.

I think I relate to her especially because I know EXACTLY how she feels. I too am constantly bombarded with crazies, and when a at first-glance normal approaches me, it is only a matter of time for them to fall for me and then immediately lose their mind. As in drop the "I could spend my life with you" bomb or my personal favorite, "the one regret in life I have is never sleeping with you...". Thanks. Thank you very much.

So in a fit of inspiration and the fact that my dating life has been looking pretty bleak, I thought, "maybe I should give this whole year of yes a try". I really am too quick to judge and often regret casting people aside so hasty. I could name a name or two of people who I wish I could have had a second chance. But, *sigh*, you live & learn and can only hope that life actually teaches you a thing or two.

This whole year of yes won't work for me. Almost immediately after I made this deal with myself, I went out for happy hour/night with some friends and friends of friends and was bombarded by a guy who basically appointed me as his "bar gf" and then "bar spooned" me the remainder of a night. Note: this is not attractive boys. Well. Unless I'm super into you, maybe, but usually it is a deal breaker. Give the girl some room to breath for god sake.

Anyway...

My bar bf has called me numerous times over the past few weeks to go out for dinner/drinks/whatever and I've been reluctant. If you can do that to a stranger, lord only know how pda-ish he'd be if we eventually dated or something. Or maybe he doesn't get girls and because I showed a smidgen of interest, went all out. See this is how my mind works. Dating for the past ten years or so, have become jaded and don't take it as a compliment, but more of a:

Hmm. What is he up to? Does he do this to every girl? There must be something sneaky going on. There MUST be something wrong with him....

I actually talked to him this week and agreed to go out tonight, so we'll see how it goes. I've decided that instead of just saying yes to everyone who asks me out (which is not going to happen in NYC, the land of the crazies), but instead just say Yes To Life and embrace all the opportunities that fly my way. For too long I think I've been saying, no no no, instead of taking a look of what's really in front of me.

I'll keep you posted. I may be singing a different tune tomorrow...

Guilty Pleasures....But Why So Guilty?

Guilty Pleasure: is known as something one considers pleasurable despite feeling guilt for enjoying it. Fashion and food can be examples of guilty pleasures.

We all have them. For some of us it's being a very well read individual, but at the same time secretly having a love for trashy romance novels. Or perhaps it's the musical snob who solely listens to random underground music, but for some weird reason or another can't seem to shake the Spice Girls.

Why do we have guilty pleasures anyway? Why be ashamed of what our mind, body, & soul ache for? I think it must have something to do with what society expects of us and the image of what we think we are v.s the one we display. I'm just happy that as I have gotten older & older, have found myself lose these insecurities, if you will, in exchange of a "whatever! I will rejoice my weird quirks and what I love" mentality.

Some of my include:

(1) Harry Potter! I have had friends actually shake their heads at me and say, "I didn't think you were one of those people Kris", to which I respond, "I LOVE HARRY POTTER! I can't wait for the movies and I'm dressing up as my favorite character. And you know what, you just wait. Read one of the books and you'll be singing a different tune".

Why even last night, my friend Hennessey called to chat and when she asked what I was doing, I replied, "Oh you know, just watching the new Harry Potter movie trailer (again) on youtube. Little did she know that while I was watching the trailer, "Harry Potter & The Order of The Phoenix" was muted on my tv. Maybe that crossed the line of guilty pleasure to creepy obsession?


(2) Liverwurst and pickle sandwiches. My mother, a woman who loves her heritage, happily fed her children all sorts of German foods, including, yes Liverwurst. When I initially figured out what it was made of, was absolutely alarmed and disgusted. Eventually, I got over it and learned to embrace liverwurst for all of it's wonderfulness

(3)Musicals. Musical Theatre is one of my loves. Growing up, I was consistently a member of choirs and musical productions and though I was surrounded by people within the choirs, no one at school ever did those kind of things. I remember feeling like something was different. When I was 11 and had the chance to audition with my choir to be on Broadway, I didn't tell anyone because it was out of the ordinary, so I guess that's maybe when it almost became a guilty pleasure. Thankfully, I grew up, became friends who were peers as well as musical theatre lovers, and got over my weirdness.

There is only one instance, that I can think of, when I get mortified by my musical theatre loving ways. On the way to & fro work, I pass lots of Broadway shows, depending on the route in which I take. We got Mama Mia, Young Frankenstein, Avenue Q, The Little Mermaid, Mary Poppins, Legally Blonde, Rent, The Heights, Zanadu, Chicago, Spamalot, The new one with Harry Potter in it, Grease, and I'm sure many many more I can't recall at the moment. Without fail, every time I walk by Rent, Chicago, or Mama Mia, one of the songs from the chosen musical will pop onto my ipod, as if it knows we are walking by the homeland and needs to make a shout-out so the theatre can hear. Meanwhile, I am frantically rummaging through my bag attempting to lower the song. What if someone heard?

I'd so be that musical theatre geek that purposely walked by Rent daily and everyday would fumble through my play list in search of "Seasons Of Love" as a mini-tribute. I would then rip my shirt off to reveal the Rent tank top underneath that I would ALWAYS wear and creepy smile with connection and envy at the people outside the theatre waiting to go in.

No. I'm not that bad yet.

Hatin' On The Homeless

Working in New York City, I realize and accept the fact that I have to co-exist with the homeless. And I feel I have, for the most part, good manners when dealing with them I never stare or give looks of disgust and take special care when in maneuvering around them. I don't want to wake up the cranky homeless when they are sprawled out across the sidewalk.

There is only one or two kinds of homeless people I feel sorry for and if I had spare change, I would absolutely drop it off into their worn paper cups.

Those who served in any war, fought long and hard for this country, came home a hero and poof! They had nothing. No help from the government, being gone for so long caused them to have no way to stand on their feet, couldn't get jobs, were so emotionally battered by war horrors, and eventually the only option was to live on the street. The sub-category in this exception are the crippled war heroes, who not only sacrificed their time and youth, but actual limbs. I don't know what I'd do if I fought for a country I loved and sacrificed an arm and leg for, to come home and realize that it turned it's back on me. So I understand. I'd probably sit in the corner heckling and kicking (see blog "Edgy Bobs & The Kicking Homeless") pedestrians too.

All the others I almost feel resentment for. This morning, for example, I was carrying a HUGE black bag of clothes, a plastic bag full of food my mom bought for me, and my every-day work bag. With three bags in tow, I jet it down the street in order to get to work on time. I was in Middletown for the weekend and when I attempted to train it back last night, there was some sort of delay, so I said SCREW THIS. I called my dad and asked him to pick me up. So needless to say, it was a joy trekking to work today, in a dress, in the weird fogginess, turned humidity, late, with an additional 30 pounds to lug.

While taking a breather and waiting for the light to turn green, I noticed a homeless man, sitting in a lawn chair reading AM New York. Behind his push cart full of miscellaneous this and that's, was a pile of KITTENS. In front of the kittens, there was a sign written on cardboard that read, "please help us, god bless".

At this point I got very angry. Why should I give you my hard earned quarters when you just sit on the corner, day after day. I work not five, but six days a week to pay my bills and to fund a little social life. Why should I support this lifestyle? I hate working. I really really hate it. But I think it's even worse being a societal burden. Put your time in. There are always places hiring. Go get a job. I'd have no problem giving money to people who are actively trying to get back on their feet. But come on, with no goals to better life, why should I just sustain you? (Wow I sound extremely cold hearted. There is no trace of the loving yogi and peace lover I tend to be....perhaps my adult life has already hardened me).

And then the kittens. I want a cat. I would kill for a kitten, but I know that I am not in a financial situation where I could necessarily support another living creature. But here's the homeless man with his 5 kittens. So not only do I have to support him, but also his entire litter.

Could it be that I envy him more than I actually dislike him? Could be... I wouldn't mind a life sitting around in lawn chairs all day with a couple kittens. The only thing stopping me is the winter in the city and the lack of home. But I could always move somewhere warm...or. or....

If I was homeless, I think I'd become a mole person. You know those people who live deep down under the subways and have their own society and live by their own rules? I'd do that or be a super crazy homeless lady and scare the workers and tourists. I'd pretend I was unconscious on benches or sprawled out across the sidewalk, and when a poor Danish family is forced to step over me, that would be my cue to get up abruptly and start yelling gibber jabber.

They always look so down and sad, but I wonder if maybe its all an act and they are the ones laughing it up at the end of the day, while counting out their pan-handling money. While high fiving and giggling away they say, "haha and all the while they think we are sad??? We don't work and get to drink in public and never shower and play around all day, what could we complain about?? Did you see that miserable blond girl with all those bags this morning? Could you imagine if WE had to go sit in a silent office all days writing blogs? Man I'd rather be homeless!"

Saved!

Enters the scarf: This is how you will see me on humid days. Or hungover ones. And the lazy..

Oh Humidity, How I Loathe Thee

Once upon a time, I got an edgy bob. And here it is on day one:

And since then, I have loved every moment of it. So easy to style. So cute. So wonderful. After I got my haircut, I was so pleased with the results, it prompted me to get a new tattoo, on my mid-neck area.

As you may have seen in pictures past, I have naturally wavy hair. What does this mean then you ask? NO MATTER what I do and try to prevent it, after I walk out my door with immaculate styling, the humidity hits me from each angle and I look like this:

Yeah. Pretty bad. I basically look like a crazy Eastern European who just showered, ran a finger or two through my hair and off I went into the flat, yet frizzy abyss.

What I Had For Dinner Tonight

A nice light healthy Summer meal. Quiche with olives and cherizos, served with salad greens and a fat free blue cheese dressing.

My friend Mhern has made this for me two times (minus the olives) and it was AH-mazing. Seriously. Absolutely wonderful. Even now as I sit on my couch writing away, the mere presence of the quiche sitting there alone in the fridge makes me antsy, as if any minute now I'm going to lose control and eat the remainder of the pie.

What I Had For Dinner Last Night

What is this you ask?

Venison Sloppy Joe's with olives, on whole wheat bread and a side of steak fries.

A few words about my meal:

---First of all I am not a hunter , neither am I a kind of person who tends to buy interesting or exciting meats. It wasn't as if I went out into my parent's backyard, shot a deer, skinned it, gut it etc. and later made it into a sandwich. My sister's boyfriend is a hunter and I guess once you get a deer, have ALOT of meat, so they pushed it along to me. Having never had game meat prior was kinda freaked out, but then quickly remember that I am poor and never buy meat. The closest thing to meat I buy is a block of tofu. Mayyyybe chicken. But that's a stretch. So I figured, "It can't be all that bad".

Yeah, it's great. Very tasty and apparently lower in calories, cholesterol, & fat. Who knew.

---I threw olives in because I recently fell in love with the olive family, bought some, and now am desperately trying to find ways to incorporate them in all my meals.

--The bread was stolen from my parents this weekend. I don't like food shopping and my mom always has back ups for all staple foods. They went to a pool party, leaving me alone at the house, so I took it upon myself to lap around the kitchen and see if anything struck my fancy (loaf of bread, diet Sunkist, & two apples).

Musical Uni Bomber

My friend Mhern works for a publisher, so is always giving me the heads up on book signings and reading that I may be interested in. Last Thursday, off we went to the Barnes & Noble in Lincoln Center for Charles Strouse, composer of musicals such as "Bye Bye Birdie" & "Annie", new memoir "Put On A Happy Face". Being the musical theatre fanatic that I am, couldn't help but get a little excited and bubbly knowing that this amazing man would be chatting about his life & PLAYING some of his popular tunes. OMG. I know.

Because we both work til 5:00 or so and the reading started at 5:30, obviously we weren't going to get there earlier to secure seats, so had to deal with lingering around the entrance, standing on our tipping toes to listen in. Initially, I thought it was odd that the reading began so early, but once we got there, it was OBVIOUS why. So many old people. And I'm not saying nice glowing grandparents with patient smiles and stories abundant. They were a breed of obnoxious, irrational-sweat suit wearing- will never be pleased no matter what- senior citizens. Let's give them the benefit of the doubt though that they skipped dinner (which was probably around 5:00), so were hungry and cranky.

The Reading. I'm not going to get into it too much. Ladi-dah dah dah...someone was on the phone, old lady yelled at them to stop, which the person on the phone replied with something like-well don't push me!! Wah wah my husband's in there, I need to sit with him. (Rar of Gma) MIKE! Turn up the mike! Can you hear anything? I can't hear a thing!!

Yeah, I know, you get it. but Charles Strouse was wonderful and gave a lasting impression of inspiration. What a wonderful life he had experienced and despite accomplishing so many things, remained humble and down to earth.

After the reading was over, everyone began to line up for their books to be signed and Mhern & I went over to chat some of her co-workers up. A hello here, a how are you there, and off Mhern went to say hello to her friend's Mom.

So I stood around a bit and chatted with one of her co-workers, Robert who ended up being a nice and chatty fellow. Our conversation went as follows:

What do you do? Do you like your job?
Sales. HATES it.

Oh you write? What do you like to write about? poetry?
Yes I write. I like to write about myself. I have little to no patience for poetry.

How do I know Mhern?
Oh I don't know, forever.

And so on.

Enters the Musical Uni bomber.

As Robert & I talked about...well me, I heard a little bubbly, slightly over the top voice behind me say, "excuseeee me, but what does that tattoo on your neck say?"

Always one to talk about tattoos I told her, "oh it's in Thai and says For The Beauty Of The Earth".

I then turned to get a good look at whom I was talking to. Um. Yeah she was a mess. She reminded me of a washed-out dental hygienist, standing at a mere 5 feet, with this crazy dry raspy not quite blond, but more like straw hair. To top it off, had these CRAZY-lady eyes, emphasized with HUGE brown eye brows. I couldn't even tell you what she was wearing because the whole top half of the package was way too much to take in.

From there, she squealed with delight while ringing her hands and THEN in a quivering tone death voice began to sing the hymn "For The Beauty Of The Earth". From here began the anthem of religion AND spirituality AND her beliefs AND her past within the church AND how she went to school in Boston to go to school for seminary AND how she is at the highest level a woman can be at in the Catholic church, BUT she doesn't like the Catholic church. AND with pride in her voice stated, "And my grandmother, who is 80 - YEARS - OLD always thought a woman should be equal to a man in church. She was just a woman far ahead of her time", and with that a little sigh.

While she was chatted away, she slowly and surely began to corner me out. Obviously she was hitting on Robert and I was her in. That was my hint to subtly back away and let love happen. Fine fine, I could survive without a conversation with the crazy and the weirdo.

Just to show you the magnitude of her craziness and that it wasn't just me being weird,Robert got freaked out, gave her an excuse about wanting to talk to the author and took off. So there I was, alone with the uni bomber. She went on and on about this and that, all the while I spent my time shooting Mhern looks of "GET OVER HERE NOW. LOOK WHAT I'M TALKING TO".

Finally. I said, "Well I'm going to go and see if my friend is ready to go..."

MU: OH well I know Christine Ebersole (whom was singing that night) and I too have to go in and give something to her.

(right away I assumed a bomb)

She followed me to the door and the security guard said, "wellll where do you think your going"?

I replied to him with , "oh well my friend's over there and I just want to see if she's ready to go....While MU said, "I have something to give Christine. Let us in. You don't think she won't come over here to see me because she will. SHE KNOWS ME. SHE WILL COME OVER."

Oh sweet mother or god, the security guard obviously thought we were friends and plotting to take out Tony Award winning Christine Ebersole. (which, sad to say, I looked at her and thought to myself-oooo she was in my Girl 2!....I know, culture is just dribbling out of my pores).

While MU argued and pleaded with the security guard, Mhern came over, and the Musical-Uni bomber turned her attention immediately, telling Mhern how lucky she was to work in publishing, how she was going for her SECOND Masters for library skills and. Mhern mentioned that Rutgers had a good program there, MU violently attacked with-OH no no no. I live in Manhattan!! Agh haha I go to Pratt and they just don't let ANYONE in...

She continued to shake and panic, on the verge of pycho-sobbing, "I JUST HAVE ONE THING TO GIVE CHRISTINE!!! (she told me earlier that she cut out clippings from a review of a show she saw Christine in recently...but we know better).

Good old Mhern looked at me with the look of "why the hell are you always talking to these weirdos" and said "Must drink margaritas now, goodbye".

Meanwhile I was obviously erupting to talk about this, but knowing better (and because maybe the uni bomber would over hear and change her target) said, "WAIT until we get outside." Fine fine.

Thankfully, we got out of the building before the bomb went off, so good for the security guards & that they actually did their job. But what I find most disturbing is not that I am the flame for the crazy moths, but the fact that I am considered a threat by security guards. Could I be the next musical uni bomber....I mean I do love Rent. What happens when it goes off Broadway? Will my musical bomber within flip, unleash, and start stalking original cast members...is this all I can hope for the future?

The Peeves Of Hern

I have nothing to write about today, but am more bored at work than usual. So in attempts to help me blog-storm, Mhern suggested I write one entitled:

"How Many Pet Peeves Can You Run Into During Lunch Break"

So from there, we began to collaborate and here are the top ten ( in no specific order).

1. When people cough without covering their mouths.

2. Those who meander down the sidewalk SLOWLY because they don't need to be back at work any specific time. And your always the one stuck behind them because they sway back and forth, making it impossible to get around.

3. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, looking up at nothing in particular, but causing you to walked into them. And typical, they're the ones irritated.

4. Those guys who do bus tours asking if your interested in going for a ride. DO I LOOK LIKE I'M ON VACATION?? Do I look happy and relaxed? no no no no

5. The dudes who stand outside comedy clubs trying to stop you, "hey. like to laugh? Like comedy?" They continue to harrass in the hopes of wearing you down to agree take the tickets off their hands.

6. Flier people in general. Do NOT push a flier in my face. I do NOT want a 5 minute free massage or my eyebrows threaded

7. Mystery drops of water falling from the sky. Please be an air conditioner...please please. Even scarier is when the drops come down in the winter. Lord only knows what they could be.

8. Slow-moving-hand-holding couples.

9. People who walk sooooo slowly because they are blackberrying away. Pshh if you need to make a call or text or email someone, stand to the side. The streets of NYC should be treated like highways. I think there should be policemen walking around giving out fines to the stoppers and the slow.

10. Um having to return to an eerie quiet and dark office when it is a BEAUTIFUL day.

So to sum it up, I don't like anyone or anything that gets in my way, stops me, moves slowly, or could possible cause me to become ill.

Business Proposition

One of my newly discovered pet peeves is when people have a lot of money and don't spend it. I guess technically it makes sense that the people who spend (like yours truly) are obviously the ones who don't have any vs. those who save have some money. But say you die tomorrow. Who wants those last moments on earth regretting that you didn't buy that new car or that house on the shore you've been eyeing for years....or perhaps funding a project your friend Kristine wanted to begin.

Once upon a time, way back when in the late 90's when I was in high school, I worked at this wonderful coffee house, The House Of Coffee (I know original). It was a great place to work. The coffee house resided in the Galleria, which is a restored Factory, so it had a very cozy strong feeling about it and a sense of history. We had great regulars, good food, drinks, and such potential to thrive. But sadly, the people who owned and managed weren't very restaurant savvy and the HOC closed. A year or so later they re-merged as a tapas place Savannah, which I walked by last week and it looked to have closed down.

The first thing that came to mind was - Omg. What I would give to re-open the House of Coffee, but under my regime. Having worked in the restaurant business for almost 10 years, I have great confidence that I could absolutely run a successful coffee house. It used to pain me to watch the poor management of other places I worked, but it also taught me what would be good. My biggest objective is customer service and the best way to succeed is to have good clientele and know your people, make it a home and a place they feel welcome. How many places over the years I have returned to again and again because the staff knew me, how I liked my usual meal/drink/etc. and were up to date with what was going on in my life. Why even last week, I was hanging out with one of my regular waiter turned friends and years later, he can still tell me my usual. That's what I'd want out of my business.

My House of Coffee would encourage people to sit around and hangout (vs. the old one that only liked it if people were constantly buying) and would attempt tomake it a local artistic hub. For example, I'd invite reading and writing groups to have their meeting there, open mikes, art shows, and basically anything that promotes creativity and a sense of community. That would absolutely be a dream.

Now here's the dilemma. Um who has money for such venture? Do you think there would be anyone in the world who is just brewing in non-used money who'd like to be my cash flow? It could happen right? Perhaps some older gentleman may find my idea inspiring and want to provide the gift of fulfilling a daydream....right

Well keep a look out for me. There's got to be someone out there. In exchange for their generous donation, of course there will be a portrait hanging on the wall of their face and my unending love and devotion. That's a fair trade right?

A New Appreciation For The Suit

According to my friend Eckart Tolle, author of "The New Earth", in order to find your true purpose in life is to defeat the ego (the voice in your head that is negative and if given the chance will mask the true self). The best defense against the ego is by living in the now because the ego likes to hate on everything and complain away the day.

In attempts of erasing my ego, I have been trying to be more conscious and live in the moment. But of course, my version of living in the now is by observing others around me and mentally taking notes for later stories.

Walking to work today was a great example of life in motion. There was the random act of kindness in which a man noticed that the person next to him on the bus dropped his cell phone, so chased him down to give it back. Later, there was a boy in a wheel chair that I felt bad for after his dad pushed him into a curb, causing him to uncomfortably stop short. Around 53rd and Fifth, there was a huge, I'm talking probably about 10 feet tall inflatable rat, apparently announcing that asbestos kills! (I don't really understand how the two connect). And of course we have the usual tourists that were walking slow and whom i usually give evil glares to, instead tried to reason with my head, "they are only walking slow because they are German tourists, overwhelmed by the city and have no idea where they are going"

My ego replied with, " Well unfortunately, you know where you are going and where you should be. And that would be WORK. SOME OF US HAVE TO GO TO WORK!! Out of my WAY!"

Finally, there was the sea of suits, who walk with purpose clutching a coffee in one hand and the other filled with a pile of Walt Street Journals and NY Times. If you've ever read anything else of mine, you know that I am usually not interested in Suits and don't care to chat with them because they are usually pretty typical and like to talk about money, compare careers, and so on. But then I realized maybe it's my ego's doings as to why I don't care for the Suits and need to let go of the animosity in order find a common ground.

So today while I took the walk of inner peace, I was standing next to a Suit at a corner waiting to cross the street and he was snapping his fingers and stamping his feet. Not just a little, "oh this is a good song" kinda tap. I'm talking a, "I LOVE THIS SONG and I LOVE LIFE" medley. So he bopped across the street and then became a member of the air orchestra and started to air drum, guitar, flute, xylophone, and so on (fine, minus the last 2). And seriously, just by this wonderful act of musical love, changed my outlook of the Suit. Perhaps my friend there was a musician, who always dreamed of being in a band, got married had a baby or two and sacrified it all to take care of his family. Maybe he's in a band, and they played all weekend long. Who knows. But it definitely shows that I am way too hasty to judge and am missing out on a lot of undercover characters.

Primetime Bachelorette?

While riding the bus into work this morning, I got a way early phone call from my friend Hennessey. We chatted it up with some light ladi-dah conversation when all of sudden her voice changed and said, "hey, I have a question for you. Can I nominate you to be the next Bachelorette"? I replied with a ,"HA are you kidding me"??

Hennessey explained that they are looking for the next Bachelorette and thinks I'd be just perfect for it, how I'd make for good reality TV and so on. So I agreed. HOW FUNNY WOULD THAT BE?

Later, as I walked to work, started to daydream about my season and I've come up with two case scenarios.

1. I'd be on the show, meet the guys, and they would all be super tools, like the ones on "I Love NY" or "Tila Tequila". They would obviously be these grossed-out benny-ish guys with huge muscles squished in little t-shirts, with terrible tribal tattoos and impeccable eyebrows. The guys would so be the ones who try to trick me that they love me after 2 days, in order to advance their careers, or so sappy wah wah-delusional in love with lovers that I'd want to throw up. And perhaps I would. Daily. When the producers interview me about how I felt about each guy I would say, "ugh, omg he is terrible. What were you thinking when you picked him for me." "Oh and him? Ugh booooring. I couldn't see myself with ANY of them." This would lead me to be hated by many and enjoyed by few.

2. Perhaps the producers would inquire in what times of guys I liked and I would reply with, "Umm. Artists. Writers. Musicians. CHARACTERS. Kinda dirty, lots of tattoos. Weird. And makes me laugh". Maybe they would create a new spin-off show "Character Showdown!" in which 20 crazy weirdos would be competing for my affections. Ahh that would be wonderful. And in order to be on the show, they would have to provide a list of favorite books, movies, pictures of their tattoos, and have to live in the NYC area (including Brooklyn, Hoboken, JC, etc.) I am not falling in love on prime time television just to be disappointed when I discover my love lives in Montana. And I'd like my show to be live or as close as possible. I don't want to wait 5 months until we are reunited on the reunion special and have my heart broken when my character has grown tired of me.

So get ready, Fall 2008, for I will be the NEXT Bachelorette!

Never Take An Urban Hike In Heels

As a young worker of NYC, there are certain things I have given up in exchange for comfort. About a year ago and just starting out, I wore heels all the time. And I mean as in I walked to work (where at the time would be a hot 6 avenues or so) and then wore them for the remainder of the day. In my mind, I was miserable, but what was the alternative? To wear SNEAKERS with my fun spring dress? Oh no, no no no.

Alas, I have wised up along the way and traded my heels in for uggs & moccasins in the winter (ha I know, don't say anything) and now I live in flip-flops. Sometimes I'll sneak a pair of fun high-wedge sandals, but after last Wednesday, they may also be retired.

Geraldine, my brother's friend Kyle, & I arranged to go have happy hour because we all work in Midtown and well, come on, who doesn't love happy hour? Between the three of us, I'm all the way up on 54th and Madison, Gerald on 42nd and Broadway, & Kyle on 33rd and 7th (something like that). We agreed at this place Kyle picked out (god bless his 22 year old little heart. At first, when he recommended a place, I assumed it would be a dive..sorry Kyle. I knew myself at 22 and she liked cheap drinks, which evidently equalled cheap vodka.)

But he introduced us to an un-tapped resource. All I have to say is: Good crowd. $3.50 mixed drinks (and I'm talking like decent hard liquors) and CHINESE food. Oh it was amazing. Needless to say the happy hour crossed over to happy night.

The smart thing to do at the time was walk myself down to Geraldine's office and then together we'd go to the place where we were meeting Kyle. Stupid me, I guess I over-estimated my abilities in wedge sandals thinking, "oh no no, it'll be fine. You always wear heels".

Wrong. 5 avenues up and 12 streets down, my feet started to sweat (I know, something you don't want to here about, but sorry. It's summer. Sue me). And I started slipping around in my sandals. But not too badly....

So I scooped up Geraldine and together we walked along, chatting it up about this and that and all the while I was slipping, like tripping all over the sidewalk, as if I was drunk. Like a sloppy stupid all day drunkity drunk.

The first trip we laughed.

The second, again "haha, what is wrong with you"?

The third, "Ok Kristine! ENOUGH! Seriously"!!

Then the fourth.

We continued to walk and laugh at my falling misfortunes and then there I went AGAIN. On a child. In a stroller.

Yes. I fell into a child who was just taking a nice afternoon walk with it's Nanny. As I fell through the air, I felt someone pulling me forward, in attempts to save the child, who at the time looked at me like a deer in headlights (I'm sure it was more like - what the hell is wrong with this girl). I thought it was Geraldine coming to my rescue, but no. Just some random guy, I'm assuming coming up from behind for a free body feel-up. Awesome.

So luckily, the child was surprisingly cool, or else he or she was a New Yorker who expected the unexpected. I would say it's Nanny was the more upset one of the two.

Hence. The moral of the story. Do not walk around the city in the summer in heels. You're only asking to fall onto children in strollers.

A Wednesday Double Take

In the magical land of Midtown, where there are literally three million places to get a sandwich, who in their right mind would think, "hmm maybe I'll go to DUANE READE and pick something up for lunch...mm and some raisins..."

Oh that's right. It was the sweaty balding-middle-aged-businessman (I know, the very best) in front of me in line about an hour ago.

Really...?

Character Storm

I always assumed that everyone had random strangers approach them for conversation. I'll be just minding my own business, reading Harry Potter or chattering away with E on the train and the person next to me/us needs to exchange life details. Or sometimes it's the person standing beside me at the cross walk, asking how my day is and why I appear to be in such a good mood. E has informed me that it isn't the norm and apparently the weirdos just come after me.

I thought maybe it was just in my head until Saturday rolled around. Or it could be that Red Bank is the breeding grounds for the friendly. I worked at Siam Garden that particular day (it's a restaurant I have worked at off & on for years. Every so often I'll go in for extra cash) so took the train into Red Bank kinda early with the intentions of walking around and basking in the sun for a bit. As I stepped off the train, I noticed a guy staring at me. Whatever. People stare, no big deal. While I walked and thought about where to go first, was abruptly interrupted by random dude from train, waving his hands trying to get my attention.

RDFT: Hey! Don't I know you! Kristine right? KRISTINE! You dated PAUL!

Me: Paul? PAUL. Hmmm, Paul Paul Paul. OHHHH ok. Yes I did date Paul. Like SIX years ago (side note in my mind: how in god's green earth did he remember me? I didn't remember him. )

RDFT: It's me, GUY!!

Me: Ohhhhh right right, Guy. Well...... how have you been?

Guy goes into his life, how he's been working for a pool installation company for the past 4 years, how he lives down near the shore, how he doesn't drive and only takes the train, and so on. Then he asked what's new with me and my life, which I thought was stupid because it's not as if he ever knew about it before hand. Unless Paul told him. But then again, he did remember me, so maybe he also remembered my life.... hmmm. I wonder. Well, through the pointless conversation, the only thing I was really interested in was: how was Paul doing anyway? You know, the actual link to Guy & I.

Guy: Well, Paul and I aren't friends anymore. We uhh... drifted apart. He went away to school at the New School (to which I interrupted with a -----oooh! Does he live in the City...of course I was envisioning a reunion special with Paul).

"No no no", said Guy, "he is back living in Colts Neck....I think. I mean we don't really talk anymore."

As we walked along, talked about the beach and the weekend, all very ladi-blah. Finally, we reached our fork in the road, so I said, "well nice to see you? Have a good day."

I had a feeling he'd ask me for my number. Not to toot my own horn, but sometimes you can feel that vibe. And I was correct.

G: Well here, gimme your number, we can hangout or go to the beach sometime.

Me: I don't live here. I don't know when.....(stalling)

G: Come on! your going to be down one time or another and I'll come up to visit you in the city!!

At this stage it's clear: I'm guessing
a) he doesn't get girls to talk to him as long as I did, which was basically due to the fact that he was walking in my direction. He thought conversation = long lasting relationship.

b) if he only intended on us hanging out once or twice, it was clearly just a ladi-dah sex thing. Um I was not attracted to him and had no desire in pursuing anything. PLUS isn't it wierd that I dated someone he was once close with...And whom I would love to run into ....hmmm I don't like the sounds of Guy.

So about 2-4 minutes of me protesting to give him my number, I said fine. FINE. I asked him if he had a phone to put my number in and he replied with, "well.....I don't have a phone right now, so I'll probably call you from a pay phone, if that's OK with you.."

What did I say you wonder?

WHAT? Are you a pimp! Homeless?? Who uses pay phone any more. They are disease breeders! (bleh)

I've gotten two phone calls since from an unknown number and a message. How does it ALWAYS work that the ones you never want to hear from think you two are soul mates and the ones you pray to the good lord to hear from magically disappear?

ANYWAY, I walked away and started laughing to myself. It was all too much: between the train, the payphone, and Paul-friend citing, I had to call E (who never called me back, thanks alot)

Afterwards, I went to Zebu for gelato (omg amazing amazing) and decide to go browse through some stores. While in a shop, the girl who worked there called me out and exclaimed that she's always wanted a tattoo on her foot, how lately it had been a shark, always wanted to see one and then I came in having it!

From here we got into a nice little Q & A about tattoos (which I love to talk about anyway) and where to go. This type of random character chatter is the kind I enjoy. It was cute because she was younger (maybe 18 or so) and genuinely excited. I wanted to hug her and take her under my wing.

The following day, E & I were heading to Panerra to work on some writing and I told her about my day and then---- WEIRD. The man behind us engaged himself in our conversation and then felt the need to talk about his weekend, his boat, where he lived and so on. 10 minutes later, I have his card in my hand and can't help but be amused and grateful. What's better for the girl that loves character than for them to love her too?