Last Wednesday at PS260 we had our annual Secret Santa gift-off. We all gathered in the Empire Lounge.
Katie P. took on the gift doling responsibilities, and we thought it was so awesome that an elf hat and wee Christmas house was fashioned out of an old Panasonic HD TV box.
She did a good job of doling.
We all opened our respective gifts with holiday glee.
Everyone got something perfectly appropriate. I got a book of crossword puzzles and a DVD of "It's A Wonderful Life." Pat obviously got something his Santa knew he would like.
Momo got a gift certificate inside of a homemade MomoBot.
Sarra got a promise for a mail-delivered copy of "Planet Earth" inside of a handmade pop-up card. Ben, however, got a gift so horrible he threw it on the ground.
His Santa gave him a note that said, "You can keep this $20 bill or you can open the box. The choice is yours." But of course, for entertainment purposes, none of us would let him keep the money. Instead, our office Yankees fan got a Red Sox t-shirt, to his deep chagrin, and soon declared war on his Santa.
The two best gifts, however, were bestowed upon Ned (a t-shirt that says "I AM SMARTER BECAUSE I AM BORG"),
And John, who got his gift karma with a Victoria's Secret tuxedo thong. Some might say this is an inappropriate gift for one of the owners of the company, but those people probably wouldn't remember that last year, John gave our erstwhile receptionist Stephanie an awfully lacy teddy from Victoria's Secret. So, I guess you could say he had it coming. Luckily, he got a kick out of it.
The next day I hopped on a plane and made my West to sunny Arizona. It's been lovely to drive around town and flip between KSLX and KEZ and talk to Grandma and the parental units and go to Target and see old friends. I'll try to blog about Christmas here if I can, but I make no promises.
Okay you guys. Last night I went to one of the coolest parties I've ever been to, and I didn't even realize it until we left. As you may or may not remember, Dustin's the editor for a series of shorts about "Li'l Hipsters" for a website called Kid America Club, and the director of said shorts, Frankie, randomly invited us to his in-laws' Christmas party. (We went to his Halloween party a couple of months ago.) We thought this was a little odd since we've never met the in-laws but decided to go anyway. We thought, what the heck? Nothing like walking into a completely foreign situation with people you've never met.
We made our way over to the West Village after work. I thought to myself that either we would be totally overdressed or underdressed. We really had no idea what to expect of this place. We walked into the most amazing house I've ever been to in New York. Usually, in New York, when people describe "awesome" apartments that go for more money than my life is probably worth, the statement comes with an asterisk followed by a "well, awesome for New York." Those places are still quite small in comparison to most "awesome" places in, say, Scottsdale. But that's fine, we accept that because it's really New York itself that we're paying for, whether your residence is fantastic or in the ghetto. But this place was completely, unequivocally cool. And huge. Their kitchen was bigger than my bedroom. (Actually, MY kitchen is bigger than my bedroom, but that's beside the point.) They had a freaking gazebo in the backyard. For Pete's sake, they had a backyard. Anyway, my point is, the house was amazing.
I spent most of the night feeling awkward and out of place because I didn't know anyone, but after the fact I've realized that I should have gotten over it and mingled better. The crowd was a nice mix of young, artsy hipsters (Frankie's wife's friends) and older, artsy cool folks, not unlike the kind of people I described as inhabiting the National Arts Club. We realized that these are exactly the people that Dustin's older, artsy, cool parents who just moved to New York should be hanging out with. We called them and demanded they join us at the party. An hour later they showed up - by then the crowd had thinned a bit but we still had a great time. It was around this point that I realized a few things:
1) That painting of Marilyn Monroe on the living room wall is, in fact, a real Warhol.
2) Those paintings hanging in the family room were done by the owner of the house, Frankie's father-in-law, who is actually Brice Marden. A minimalist painter. A successful minimalist painter. He had a retrospective at the New York MoMA last year. Mind = blown.
3) That fabulous guy in the corner wearing a black velvet blazer, a bright purple silk tie, and purple flower in his lapel and chatting with dozens of people is, in fact, the amazing designer Zac Posen. ZAC FREAKING POSEN, people! All night I kept making eye contact with him and hoping against hope that he might make me his next muse. I'm still waiting.
Dustin's almost unbearably cool sister Phoebe (who complained to us that night of a rather "annoying" meeting she had been to at Vogue magazine that afternoon) chatted it up with this jewelry designer Waris and Mr. and Mrs. Stephens mingled with the bohemian elite (they don't have the awkwardness problem from which I suffer).
I talked to a few people, but I am sure beyond a doubt that there were poets, designers and artists there with whom I didn't get to chat (and probably would have embarrassed myself in front of anyway). Someday I hope to be cool enough and interesting enough and confident enough and fabulous enough to be able to eloquently converse with these people far better than I did last night.
But hey! I still got to see Zac Posen, so I'm happy.
Let's start randomly. The other day, Ned picked up a PS260 glass mug and the bottom completely fell off. Clean break. No shards of glass or anything. It didn't even make a sound. I guess Ned doesn't know his own strength.
In other news, I'm going to show you what a business function means when you live in New York and work in a zany industry like post-production. Sound Lounge was having their annual Christmas party on the West Side and everyone from PS 260 went together, including our erstwhile coworkers Patrick and Floyd, who stopped over just for the occasion. The party began in the PS 260 kitchen, where the Christmas antsiness was palpable.
I couldn't believe how many people we packed into the elevator.
This is what New York is. It's an insane party with a thousand people whom you may or may not want to speak with, free drinks, and people dressed up in animal costumes dancing.
There were so many people there, and no air conditioning, that the poor dancers must have been sweating like crazy under their costumes.
They had C-list furries too. I think this guy just wandered in off the street in a random bear costume.
Before long, Robert found an abandoned furry head and promptly put it on and joined the dancefest.
He's got some serious moves, let me tell you.
But he couldn't keep that kind of joy to himself. He passed it along to Dustin.
It's like if Teddy Ruxbin and the Pillsbury Doughboy had a love child.
We got our groove on, naturally.
Even Ned took a turn.
After that it was your basic BS-ing with acquaintances with dancing bears in the background. You know, like every other Wednesday night.
They had a hell of a mess to clean up the next day, I'm sure.
Well folks, I'm just tyin' up the workweek here. I'll try to post about our company Christmas scavenger hunt and gift exchange, but otherwise I'll probably see everyone who reads this blog in 2-5 days. I can't wait!!!
This photo I snapped at 9:30am outside of PS260... this is how crazy ladies in New York go for sample sales. This line stretched around the block for a brand called Hanky Panky. I may have posted a similar photo months ago, but I don't remember. I'm tempted to go myself, but will not, as I am saving my money for gifts for the ones I love.
And last night as Dustin and I walked around Grammercy Park, who couldn't be caught up in the holiday spirit after seeing this? Is this not the warmest, most inviting establishment you've ever seen?
It's the National Arts Club, and they always have fascinating people standing around outside or visible through the windows, like old men with beards and tweed jackets, smoking out of pipes and gesturing elegantly, or old ladies who look refined and intelligent and completely un-Botoxed in the most beautiful way. Basically, a lot of cool, classy old people.
Today I'm a little sick. Not totally, because I feel okay, but let's just say that if I was a singer on tour I'd have to cancel a couple of dates and hover over a humidifier whilst drinking ginger tea.
This weekend was cold. Frakkin' cold. Last year it stayed 50 degrees until February, and currently it's already in the 30s and snowing. Nevertheless, I made the trip out to Long Island to see Shannon and her new house (finally!). Unfortunately, I was so focused on our Target and mall shopping trip that I forgot to take pictures of the beautiful ride there. Riding the train was a nice, peaceful break to take and get out of the city, watching the turned leaves in their winter brightness go past.
However, I did take pictures of Shannon's new pad. It's freakin' huge!
Living room
Guest room
Bedroom
Chic bathroom
Gorgeous backyard.
As you can see, she's applied her impeccable style to the whole place. We went to Target and I got my fix and spent two gift cards I'd been hoarding for months. We walked around the mall for a bit and decided to get our photo with Santa. Shannon couldn't decide if she wanted her hair down,
or up.
But as you can see she's beautiful either way. Here's the keychain we got as a souvenir (sorry the picture's so wee. I forgot to take the full photo home with me).
I think Santa was happier than we were. He gave us some rad reindeer hats, not unlike the paper crowns you get at Burger King.
Then we hung out at the homestead till my train came. I was shocked at Shannon's couch's ability to convert to a recliner so adeptly.
She got a kick out of it.
The day went by fast, but it was lovely to hang with my Shannie. The next day it snowed and I didn't do anything at all. Which was awesome.
