There's not much going on this week, so today I'll give you some random sunset photos. I know it's corny, but I'm a sucker for a striking sunset. I never thought any would compare to an Arizona one, with its vast landscapes and dust-filled air, but New York sure can throw down with the best of 'em. There's something so stunning about the light at dusk hitting the sides of dozens of buildings (or thousands, if you're watching from Hoboken and can see the whole skyline). The light is so sharp, throwing shards of color against metal and brick. Instead of seeing the sunset by how it affects the sky, you see how it affects the scores of walls surrounding you.
Here in New York (and everywhere east of Mountain Standard Time states), between October and March the sun goes down at about 4 or 4:30. It's really depressing. You feel ready to leave the office at 5pm (which, now that I write that, seems like something everybody but me does). Anyway, it puts a real damper on productivity. However, there are some amazing sunsets during the bright parts of winter, the reasons for which I don't understand. The point is, because of this phenomenon I usually watch the sun set from my office.
I snapped this one on the way to a sound mixing session last week; it's an apartment building across the street from the Flatiron.
And this one, so moody and ominous, is from the PS260 girls' bathroom.
Oh m'God, guys, have I told you about my new coat?? Cheap, warm, stylish. Perfect.
Ah. In other news.... Normally Thanksgiving is not my favorite holiday. When I was growing up, it was kind of just another time to get together with the extended family, and I usually ended up eating about six pieces of pie between both sides of the family and one bite of everything else. But since I moved to the city, each Thanksgiving seems so depressing here - the city is empty except for tourists, it's cold and usually raining, and although four days off from work is nice, I get so bored because none of my friends are in town (though this year they aren't anyway) and I can't afford to go anywhere outside of the city. I just watch the parade in my bathrobe and miss my mom, usually.
However, this year was good. I really needed the time off from work, and I got to relax. Dustin's parents were in town, and actually just moved into a rental apartment while their new one a few floors above is being built, so they had us over for dinner.
When we got there, Mr. Stephens was already hard at work in the kitchen.
The salami was a very good appetizer.
Younger sis Caitlin had arrived from Boston and came bearing flowers.
... which Karen happily arranged.
We got to see a peek of the raw space the Stephenses are trying to purchase on the 10th floor. It's huge, empty and ready for some stylin'.
They're going to keep it as a loft, no separating walls, and just have "bedroom cubicles." Cool idea.
With, of course, studio spaces for the artists in Mr. and Mrs. Stephens.
Back at the temporary homestead, Tommy joined us and we got to the grueling labor known as meal preparation.
Mmm fixin's
Just look at that perfectly browned bird!
Louis quickly set to the task of carving.
While the rest of us looked on and conversed, drooling over the aromas.
I love sweet potatoes. I never had them before college, then in the school cafeteria, of all places, I discovered the joy of salty and sweet in perfect harmony.
Cin cin! È mangia!
I've had a few Thanksgivings away from AZ, and this one came closest to tasting like home, right down to the cranberry sauce (which I only eat once a year, because after three bites I'm like, "ewwww, what is this stuff made of?!").
Post-dinner, Caitlin made herself an impromptu couch...
... while D. and I took over the regular couch for some food-coma resting...
... and the 'rents broke out some pomegranates and concord grapes. Yum.
Then it was finally time for us to play the game I gave the Stephens family for Christmas last year - a favorite of my family's, Cranium. I have scarcely laughed so hard as when I've played this game with my fam, so I wanted to spread the joy. And this time was no different. Tommy and Caitlin were on a team.
... and so were the 'rents...
... which leaves Dustin and I, of course, as a team. Midway through, we halted for pie.
Delicious, but not comparable to Grandma's Banana Cream Pie. Anyway, the game continued...
But Dustin and I won by a mile. We're just good like that.
Wahhh-wahhh. ("Debbie Downer" theme)
By the way, Mom, Karen got the "Billie Jean" hum-along question. She, like you, dissolved into uncontrollable giggle-singing. I nearly fell off my chair.
And last but not least, the next morning I met up with my mom's longtime friend Denise Griffin, who was in town for the holiday, and her travel mate Connie for some brunch and coffee at my favorite coffee shop near Union Square. It was great to see Denise and catch up, and meet Connie.
Other than that, I didn't do a whole lot over the weekend - and that's just fine. I got some laundry done, played some online Boggle, wrote my recap for TVGasm, and redeemed my birthday massage gift certificate as a reward for successfully finishing two hellish jobs in one week. Ahhh. It's nice to start a new week and a new project, fresh and rarin' to go. And accompanied by Christmas music.
Post-publishing note: I've noticed that there has been a spike in my page viewings for this page in the last few days, but I don't know what site is linking to me. Anybody care to leave a comment and let me know? Thanks.
Now onto business. Not last Friday (yesterday) but the Friday before that, Dustin acquired tickets to The Polyphonic Spree concert, because his cousin Louie is keyboardist for Rooney, the opening band. They were playing at the new NYC concert venue Terminal 5. I excitedly told him I would attend, but lo! Work calls loudly for my attention at all hours of all days. I agreed to meet him as soon as I got out. I unfortunately missed the glory of Rooney.
Don't worry. He entertained himself by making good use of the dramatic lighting in the VIP section.
I did miss the opening of the P. Spree, confetti and all.
Cute girly backup dancer/singers.
Luckily, I got there about five minutes after the main event began, and even got my own V.I.P. sticker. All-Access, baby!!
Though my cellie was dead, when I arrived I thought, "Okay. If I were Dustin and I had all-access, where would I be?" I looked up to above the left of the stage, and sure enough, there he was, rockin' out. I joined him, feelin' all schmancy with my sticker, and wondered if we'd get to go backstage (we didn't).
The cute girls were still a-rockin'.
The lead singer climbed down to the pit and began carousing among the revelers, to their great delight.
Though the concert's energy was rather reminiscent of the Flaming Lips, the singer reminds me of Jack White in a way (but less cute).
So I want to be a cute girl backup singer/dancer, so what?
There was even a glorious harpist.
This is what I love about The Polyphonic Spree. Unlike some bands, whose recorded material sounds vast and epic with tons of elaborately used instruments, then they get to the stage and it's a coupla guys with guitars and one girl with a synthesizer, this band brings the whole party on the road. Trumpeters, French horn players, flutists, guitarists, two drummers, and cute backup girls.
Usually I'm not into checking out people's reactions to bands (unless it's for character research) because people (especially when drunk) look so corny that it's even embarrassing for me to look at. I know that sounds snotty, but I admit that I too am guilty of it. I just feel so corny seeing it happen. However, at this show, the sound was so epic and full that everyone, bathed in the disco lights and confetti remnants, swayed and sang along earnestly to each song. Everyone looked like they were having beautiful experiences, and that was beautiful to watch (especially from our vantage point). Men and women wrapped their arms around each other, dancing sweetly, closing their eyes. I spotted a surprising number of people (men, even), swaying back and forth with their hands over their hearts and singing along.
At one point, two of the horn players jumped into the sea of music enthusiasts.
More confetti abounded as the Spree played a completely amazing rendition of Nirvana's "Lithium." I tells ya, there's nothing that unites an audience like a song that is a part of everyone's youth and recent-but-not-very-recent past.
We were lucky to see them on their second-to-last show of the tour. They all seemed so happy to be together, a big touring family.
Afterwards, Dustin tried to get me into the good lighting, but I don't think it worked out as well with me as it did him.
So we spent some time in the V.I.P. blue bathrooms and both took pictures of ourselves in them.
I'm really in a looking-down phase. After that glorious experience, we headed downtown for Dustin's friend Althea's birthday party at Kettle Of Fish. We spent a bit of time wittily bantering with these two hilarious genius hipsters, Chris and Olivia. They're much more lighthearted than they look here.
Then there was some business with this chick (on the left) who met Dustin many moons ago but knew him as Ricardo.
They had Pac-Man arcade games.
It was good to see Matt, Althea's boyfriend, with whom she just purchased an apartment in fair Brooklyn.
Fellow Boggle fanatic Carolyn showed up with some Canadian pals.
D. got all excited over these old-school desks.
There's the woman of the night herself, with her cute glasses, flanked by Carolina and Howard.
Scorpios unite!
A successful Friday night. That's all for today, kiddies. I'll blog Thanksgiving later on this week. Until then, adieu!
Well, good people of the blogosphere, I've been meaning to post about the super-cool Polyphonic Spree concert that D. and I saw last weekend, but the pressures of work and glitches in Blogger's photo uploading feature have prevented me from doing so. I'll try to get it up when I can. Until then, I wish everyone a happy happy Thanksgiving. I'm grateful for each reader of this blog's presence in my life. Now I'm gonna go watch the parade and wish I was in my mom's kitchen, baking pies and making fun of the bad lip synchers.
Call this blog an evergreen. I'll probably rerun it every time I'm on vacation or when my life gets too boring to blog.
If you're male, you might as well just click on the TVGasm link on the right because you're gonna be bored by this one. It's a story about love, about generosity, about mothers and daughters, and, most importantly, about adorable shoes.
So there's this pair of Mary Janes. They're magical shoes. They're basically the perfect shoe for any special occasion and any outfit. They're black, patent leather, little heel but not too much. Classy, a little fancy, elegant. Just gorgeous. For years, they belonged to and were beloved by my mother.
One day last December, I was in town for cousin April's wedding. The outfit I brought for the event (a knit dress) just didn't seem good enough to me, so about five hours before we were to leave, I ran to Target and got a beautiful Audrey Hepburn-ish black cocktail dress.
Nevermind that ridiculous dancing. Anyway, The Dress was amazing, but I realized that I had no suitable shoes with me to match its amazingness. I panicked and thought, "Do I have to go back to Target and spend more money???" Mom, ever the fashionable problem solver, came to my rescue by bringing out the beautiful black MJs. I was hesitant as she is a full size smaller than I, but somehow, magically, the shoes fit and were even comfortable. That's The Naturalizer for ya! Mom had saved the day (and the outfit).
They even matched the Mary Janes that Austin was wearing with her own bombshell dress.
Upon my return to New York, I remained enamored of The Shoes. I couldn't stop thinking about them. I dreamed of all the elegant outfits I could complete with them, all of the perfect waltzes I could perform around the city in them (I do that sort of thing all the time). I decided I should get a pair for myself. I went to Naturalizer.com and although the shoes I found on the site weren't exactly the same, I figured they were good enough. Big mistake. I remember a commercial from years ago that gave sage advice: "If you always settle for 'good enough,' will anything ever be good enough?" I try not to take my life lessons from advertisements, but this particular sentiment always stuck with me. It applies to many situations in life (add Staten Island Girl laugh here).
Anyway, it rang true in this instance, as the shoes that were delivered to me were treacherously NOT good enough. You may remember this instance. (It's at the bottom of the post.) They came to me looking worn and weathered.
So that put a damper on my already-damp February day. I was disappointed, my dreams of black patent leather waltzes crumbling all over the tattered box in which my shoes had arrived.
What I didn't know was that my mom had searched in Arizona for the same pair of shoes, and found the same crappy knock-off style, and made the same sacrifice by buying the decidedly NOT shiny shoes so that she could send me her beloved originals. My blog post about the Un-Mary Janes simply made her laugh with irony and wait for my excited phone call, which I promptly made when the box containing the gorgeous MJs arrived. I was flabbergasted and delighted, yet felt guilty about wearing the shoes I knew she loved.
I still wore them though.
That was for Dustin's and my 2-year anniversary. I loved those shoes so, but I realized that they weren't an exactly perfect fit. They were a bit snug. The snugness was fine when I was in Arizona, because one doesn't walk much; one drives. But in the city, where walking is a constant necessity, the squeezed toe phenomenon becomes a bit of a hassle. I realized with regret that I likely wouldn't wear the shoes as often as I'd like to.
Therefore, when I went to Arizona last month, I brought the MJs with me. I sat Mom down and explained that as much as I completely adore the shoes, I just can't keep them in good conscience, because I know they'd have a better home with her.
She nodded quietly and then squealed, "I'm so glad! I really really love those shoes! I've been missing them!"
And so the legendary Janes are returned to their rightful owner, to be worn time and time again by the best feet to fill them.
After the Anna Nicole Smith 24-hour death extravaganza media coverage, I lost my faith in the mass media. To me, it seemed everyone involved had lost their ability to think for themselves and do what's right and say what needed to be said, politically or otherwise. However, this is the most eloquent, vicious, acerbic oration of a political rant I've ever seen. Required viewing for any similarly disillusioned member of society. I admire MSNBC for airing it.
Halloween is my boy's birthday. Usually he's not that into dressing up and such, but this year he made use of his mustache and was a 1950s strongman.
He even won second place in PS 260's annual costume contest.
But he was no match for our receptionist, Momo-bot.
Her homemade costume got her first place, I think based mainly on the fact that she wore it all day and answered phones like that.
In my opinion, Rob had the most original (and obscure) costume. He dressed up as Jun Diaz, an editor who sometimes uses our facilities and who has been recently seen in the offices working with Maury, this time as a director.
It's like Good Jun versus Evil Jun.
We celebrated both the Dia De Los Muertos and Dustin's cumpleano, with Mitch (aka Dolly Parton) settin' up the ice cream cake.
Dustin was totally surprised.
Rob made Dustin a special birthday card, which we all signed.
It was me at the Mermaid Parade, but my tassels were covered in a homemade scratch-off, lottery-style.
Unfortunately for D., when scratched it said "Better luck next time!"
Everyone merrily posed in their costumes.
And then Mitch sang us all a song (I believe it was "9 To 5").
Then Dustin and I went out to dinner with the Stephens parents and Dustin's sis Phoebe, in all her fabulous fashionable beauty.
They dressed up a wee bit.
I'm not a big sushi eater, but this place was amazing. I had a scallop sushi that tasted nothing like fish, with a texture unlike any other food I've ever had. Its flavor was something incredibly familiar yet unidentifiable, like some kind of perfume from my childhood. I don't know, but it was amazing.
The celebration continued with the dessert sampler avec candles.
Dustin got some cash and a "Big Lebowski" book from his parents, as well as an ultra-fabulous iPhone from Pheebs.
I got him a far less extravagant pair of official Mexico soccer jerseys.
I think he liked it anyway.
However, what I wasn't expecting was the Stephens family to give me a gift for my b-day. It was a gorgeous new winter coat (much needed) from Urban Outfitters. They know me too well.
It's gonna be warm!
Directly following, we got dressed up and went to a party at Dustin's friend/client's house. He's been working with Frankie on a series of shorts called "Li'l Hipsters" for the website Kid America Club. They're very cool, and so was the party.
Frankie and his boys dressed up in homemade lizard costumes.
Friday night blessed us with one of the most gorgeous sunsets I've ever seen in New York.
Even Sadie The Dog could appreciate it.
That night was Borgfest '07, a party that I bullied my coworker Ned Borgman into having. See, he's a very efficient, polite and smart assistant at PS 260. A little too perfect. One day, I went to put something in my drawer at work, and accidentally opened his. There was nothing in the drawer except his messenger bag. Meanwhile, my drawer is filled with notebooks, CDs, pairs of shoes, about 4 shirts, my video camera, my external hard drive, you get the point. I realized that my drawer is just like my bedroom, and theorized that Ned's bedroom follows the same phenomenon. So I told his sister Evann to trick him into having a party so I could test my theory (which she accomplished by saying, "Ned, you should have a party"). Thus, the Borgfest '07 was born. A bunch of us from work went over on Friday and had a grand old time. All I have to say is, we did a lot of dancing on the coffee table.
... and his bedroom is the complete opposite of mine. Spotless.
On Saturday, I decided to get some new boots for winter, as by last March I wanted to burn mine because I'm so sick of them. My friend Stephanie got some new kicks at a place called Co-Pilot, so I went and I don't think I even saw another pair of boots besides these ones.
They are, to me, totally amazing. Shiny, red, comfortable, weather-proof. I bought them in about half a second. I am completely in love with them. They're my birthday boots, and I got them with some money my mama sent me for my b-day.
Sigh. They're the perfect shoes for a Scorpio like myself to have, because dark red is our color. Are you surprised? I sure am not. For my birthday on Sunday, Dustin took me and my shoes to one of my new favorite brunch places, Nice Matin (I think that's "good morning" in French?), which we discovered when my dad and Dana came to town. They have delicious coffee and the most outta-this-world pancakes. I just had to kiss 'em.
And Dustin is quite fond of their bacon, though I prefer mine to be a bit crispier.
I was pensive thinking about the last 27 years, but only for a moment.
There was too much fun to be had in the city. We tried to go to a shooting range (one of Dustin's friends said it's a great thing to do on your birthday) but we got there too late. So, after D. patiently accompanied me to Anthropologie and Sephora (just for looking around... and maybe a special barrette or two), we went to Bowlmor Lanes, one of the only bowling alleys in the city. It was fun and kind of gross and nostalgic all at the same time.
I used to be... well, not "good" at bowling, but at least mediocre. I enjoy it quite a bit and wish it wasn't so expensive in New York. But here, I think the wood in our lane must have been warped or something, because no matter what I did, the ball veered to the left at the last second almost every time.
I gave it my Popeye Frustration Look.
As you can see, Dustin, (the E.F. below) kicked my booty.
And oddly enough, we saw the Bank of America commercial we just finished on TV during one of my turns. You know, even after seeing your commercial fifteen hundred times at work, it's still oddly satisfying to see it on TV.
Once in awhile I'd get a few pins knocked down.
For dinner we went to Emilio's Ballatto, a little Italian joint on Houston that Phoebe recommended. It was de-lish!
... and they make a yummy cannoli to boot. When we got back to Dustin's to watch the season premiere of "The Amazing Race," Dusty gave me a very sweet card...
... and a very cool hoodie from the Of Montreal concert I missed while I was in Arizona last month. I heart it!
AND! a gift certificate to get a much-needed deep-tissue massage at the spa a few floors down from PS 260. The lovely day was gift enough, but I was very excited to get these two items as well.
