Girl in New York City

The last 3 days were billed as "End of My Singlehood" weekend where I, laden w/ several cute but not slutty outfits and a nice-sized budget, headed to New York City to indulge in all my single person habits of shopping, eating at fun restaurants, and having a few well-made drinks. Because said habits are actually quite harmless, I doubt I will cut back on them once I'm a married woman, but let's move on.

Friday (Day 1)
My friend, Jen D., flew out with me and after checking into our hotel (4 Points by Sheraton in Chelsea), we went to grab a bite at Corner Bistro. The place was divey and the burgers were crispy and good. We decided to walk around a bit after lunch and I just have to say this: if within 60 seconds you hit a street of never-ending shops, it's God trying to tell you something. We were on Bleeker, and it was good.

Highlights that day included:

- Getting fabulous boots from Sacco

- Almost getting kicked out of DKNY for taking this photo:

- Seeing Russell Simmons at Pastis

- Seeing a professional call girl working the room at Pastis

We rounded out our evening at the rooftop bar on top of a hotel, and went home fairly early to prepare for our big purse shopping day. Amusing sight on our way back: 2 trannies doing business by Penn Station.

Saturday (Day 2)

Something needs to be said about the availability of good food in New York...no matter where you go, there's always some great little deli around the corner, or a cute cafe for quick bites.

After getting something to eat, we headed down to Canal Street, where the daily business of wheeling and dealing was well on its way. I have been here at least once a year for the last 4 years, and it always amazes me how hard people hustle on this street. We visited a few spots (shady: back of a 1989 Dodge mini-van with wood paneling), but hit the jackpot when we met Benny. Benny is a cool dude with a killer retail location. We spent hours there, and came home with serious finds! My mother, from hundreds of miles away, managed to do some damage via cellphone. Bottom line is: If you need a fab purse, Benny's the guy.

Saturday night was a weird one for the books. After having a fun sushi meal at Nobu Next Door (which is probably more fun than Nobu itself), we decided to go to a few clubs. I had done some research on places people actually go to in New York, and felt like my selections were pretty safe. Who knew they would be jammed with lines out the door? You'd think in a big club/bar scene like New York, there'd be plenty of places for people to disperse? We didn't even make it into the 1st location because the line was down an entire city block.

Our next spot was a bar called Milk & Honey, supposedly real low key. We walked through LES to get to this place, and for those people who think LES is getting cleaned up? It's not there yet. What do we find when we get to the address? A scary door with a buzzer. The next 15 minutes were hilarious, and I'll just leave it at that. Random happening: When we scurried away from the "scary door", a weird pot-bellied, unbathed asian man in a whitebeater belched ever so appropriately as we passed him.

After that, we were all getting tired (since it was after midnight). So we hailed a cab and made our way back to the 14th st area where we had a ton of fun the night before. Here's where I tell you to beware of certain waitstaff late night if you aren't drunk enough. They are rude, incompetent, and just looking to start a fight with a potential patron. I was excited about getting a drink at a certain asian themed restaurant, but we had to leave before I punched the hostess/waiter. And I'm not even a violent person.

We surveyed our surroundings at this point and realized that any decent bar/lounge/club had a line. It was awful, and I realized that I didn't prepare enough for this trip. I would never let this happen for anyone else's party that I was planning. We finally sat down at a wine bar and did our champagne toast before dragging our tired (but cute) asses back to the hotel. Though it was a crazy night, I still think that we had fun on our adventure through some of the quirky parts of Manhattan.

Sunday (Day 3)

Thank God that Sunday is a day of rest. We got up late, lumbered down to Cafeteria for food (they made us wait...what else is new?), and got to see Dylan McDermott in the flesh while eating. Then Kim S. went home and Jen & I went back to Canal Street for one last look around. I actually think we were shopped out at this point. My luggage was seriously overweight from all the new purchases, and I was mentally exhausted trying to figure out how I was going to get it all home. Plus, I had shin splints!

We got to LaGuardia and had our last celebrity sighting of the trip: Kimora Lee Simmons (soon to be ex-Simmons) and her entourage, strutting down the terminal right past us! After that, we settled in at the gate, and hours later, made it back to Chicago. I didn't even get charged for having overweight luggage. ;)

What a trip!

What goes around.

Last Saturday was my 10-year high school reunion. It was organized by the Class of 1996 reunion committee, and took place at The Grand Central in Lincoln Park. I was listed as a "missing" classmate.

Where was I? At the same time the reunion was happening, I was in the North suburbs, watching my friend Coleen get married. If I wasn't at the wedding, I'm not sure if I would have gotten dressed up to see my former classmates. Part of me was replaying Romy & Michele's High School Reunion in my head (which by the way, was an entertaining movie). While I was neither Romy nor Michele in high school, it was still a slightly angsty time in my young life. There were a few notable "goods" then: I met my best friend Alison, developed a strong interest in social sciences and double majored in history/poli-sci at college, and the studly Humanities teacher who inspired a newfound respect for learning about ancient civilizations and made time fly by in class. The rest of it--teenage hormones, boy/girl drama, social confusion/embarassment, etc. etc--that stuff I could do without.

Lucky for me Alison decided to take it upon herself to drop in on the party and give me the details afterwards. I'm surprised to say that I was actually interested to hear how some people turned out.

The good news is: karma is a bitch. The first thing she pointed out and repeated several times is that the girls who were the "Queen Bees" of our class were no longer all that. Apparently, the last decade was not kind to some of their waistlines, fashion sense, and/or general abilities to groom themselves properly. Of all the women that attended, 5 or 6 looked like they were doing well. This was a huge victory for Alison and the rest of us who were traumatized by the perfectly hairsprayed fluffy hair, good lip gloss, and just-right outfits. These were also the girls that drank on weekends, were maybe a little fast (to their advantage) and had cute boys admiring them. We never felt like we could measure up to them. But here they are, looking less than perfect, looking you up and down, and some begrudingly telling you that you look fabulous. Because you do.

Another piece of good news: A lot of guys in high school were late bloomers. Those boys who were shy, slightly dorky, geeks, clumsy, whatever...they turned out handsome, sucessful, with great personalities. The potential for doing bigger things and the personality was there in each of them, but it took a little longer for them to grow into it. For the better, I think. It's like aging a fine wine. Maybe it cause a little grief back then, but like for the girls, things finally evened out for them, and now they are on par if not above the people they admired. And that is kind of nice.

Finally we get to the good-looking ones. Alison ran into her big crush (one of the good looking ones) who tormented her mercilessly for 4 years. It was pointed out to him that he didn't make her life easy in their mutual classes, and he admitted that was true but it was because he had a crush on her! The two spent the rest of the evening chatting, and were joined by his fellow good-looking friends of high school. Said friends couldn't stop fawning over her, telling her how wonderful she looked, and how different she was from back then. This I find the most ironic. Clearlly Alison has evolved from high school and blossomed into the wonderful person she was meant to be, and these guys who we secretly crushed on from afar years and years ago stayed the same. Not more interesting, more successful, and certainly not any less of any of it. But they finally really see and can't stop hitting on the girl they never noticed or wouldn't consider spending time talking to 10 years ago. Vindication!

This reunion got me thinking alot about who I am and how I got here. There were plenty of good moments to remember, coupled with some stinging ones as well. Both are needed to build character, as people like to say. It's a little scary how high school can affect your thinking and how the mentality and the cliques that build carry over into real life. By real life I mean one that is outside of a fish bowl such as high school, and sometimes even college. We get so caught up in the ethos of those particular systems because we're supposed to have this collective experience, and then what? What happens after you leave the pond?

Which begs the question: Do we ever really grow out of who we are then? I'd like to think so, but you can identify types of people everywhere you go, even in your workplace. At one of my former jobs, our office was run kind of like a mini-high school or fraternity. You could visualize who was the Big Man on Campus, the Popular Girl, the Social Director, the Drama geek...which can be a whole other post altogether.

Sometimes I wish I could do things over again with some knowledge of what I know now; there are so many things I'd do differently. But I can't, so I'm just going to have to save up the wise words for my children one day.

Age.

Aging is a funny thing. It happens when you aren't really looking. So much of our habits and perspectives are based on what part we are at in our lives. I never thought much about it until recently, when I realized that truly, I am getting older.

There are certain "great" ages, and some not so great. For awhile there, I was stuck at 18. Years 19 and 20 were blurry because while I can do so much more as a person, I was not 21. Couldn't drink, party, whatever. Not that I necessarily wanted to; it was more about having the choice of. Then I was happily 24. It was a good age because I was legitimate for the first time as an adult, no longer in school and with a decent 2+ years of work experience behind me. I lingered for a bit at 26, only because it seemed better than 25, and I had a solid career with a great relationship. Unfortunately, my life should have more purpose, says my dad, who likes to remind me that all of his sisters had atleast one child by the age of 20. My mother chimes in that she had me when she was 25. Not a chance in hell, I always shoot back.

27 has been hugely memorable because of so many things: the mind-blowing success of my job, becoming someone's fiancee with a wedding to plan, the conclusion of my job, not to mention traveling, friends with weddings & babies...I've probably been operating on adrenaline and emotions for the last 11 months.

27 has also memorable because it's the first time that my age has shown. Nothing stings more than the first time you are referred to as "ma'am". Or when you walk down the street and wonder "what is wrong with these kids who don't dress appropriately for the weather", or "why are they so sloppy?"

I have been repeatedly "ma'am"ed in the last two months. The first time was at a White Sox game. I was eating an ice cream sundae on the Club Level and I heard someone say, "Ma'am? Ma'am?" I'm not really paying attention because I know it can't possibly be someone talking to me. Then I got tapped in the shoulder. The kid sitting next to me wanted to know where I got the ice cream. I almost didn't answer him because I was in shock. The other times have been at stores, be it at a pharmacy or standing in line for books -- it's "ma'am" this, and "ma'am" that. Consider me officially scared.

The other day I took a good look in the mirror and noticed my face seemed different. My cheeks were not as puffy, more refined. My eyes and nose, which I used to hate because they seemed so tiny and inconsequential appeared distinct, like they were finally right. It was me, and yet it didn't seem like me. I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Days later, when I caught myself in the mirror again, I saw myself and decided that I was fine with it. I wouldn't trade away the lessons I've learned and the confidence I have now for a few less fine lines or to look a couple years younger. The bottomline is, age happens. It's the people who let it get them down or make them paranoid that suffer the most; those people who are the advertiser's dream consumer: people who love to buy products being hawked by the people of "mature age" on television and in magazines, so certain we need more hair, less hair, to cleans/purify/exfoliate/massage -- do whatever it takes to turn.

Don't get me wrong, it still gets me a little that there are people out there who see me as old. I feel this a lot when I am walking around downtown among my fellow students at the university. But it's true, I have had more worldy experience than them, and they in turn look young in my eyes. And that's fine.

Weekly anxiety

I'm feeling anxiety right now, and it's something that's going to sit in the bottom of my stomach every week, Monday through Saturday. There's one question that fuels this anxiety, and that is: what am I going to do with my fantasy football team this week?

Yes, fantasy football, or FF cause it's faster to type. This is my 2nd year playing fantasy football in a league that one of my friends put together. We play for no money, just bragging rights. Last year, I placed first in the regular season; second in the playoffs. I am obligated to mention we only had 8 teams which means it's virtually impossible to get bad players. I made a killing in the draft with LaDainian Tomlinson, and my personal favorites: Carson Palmer, Rudi Johnson, and Chad Johnson (aka the Cincinnati "Triplets"). It was hard to have a bad season when you get those players.

Before I get all geeked out and start yammering about the intricasies of FF, let me get back to the anxiety. Somehow, by the time we were doing the draft, our league had ballooned to 14 teams. The ideal situation is 10 or 12 as there were still unchosen players out there you could go to during the season who might do well. But with 14, we'd have to dig deep and speculate a lot more on who might turn out to be a great player.

I got to pick 11th, which isn't great. I think my team is just ok this year, and there are lots of question marks...which brings me back to that queasy feeling in my stomach. After the first week of games, I don't know if I'll do very well at all. What happened to my running backs? Am I really going to rely on my kicker to score the majority of my points? Or should I start add/dropping players because some of them just plain sucked in week 1? Gah!

Raindrops keep falling on my head.

Here's the thing about the fall season in Chicago...you're going to get some rainy days. I appreciate that because I don't mind rainy. It's good for the environment, and it brings a little variety to life. My problem is with the weatherman.

It doesn't matter what channel's weather man we're talking about, because even the great Tom Skilling has been off on occassion. Ask anyone on the street and he/she will tell you that the weather men in this town don't give accurate forecasts. And because they don't, I find myself ill-prepared to face the world. Within 5 minutes of stepping outside, the pant legs are soaked. My shoes are soggy (which is just gross. And even if I manage to bring an umbrella with me, the "light shower" the weatherman has told me about in detail in the morning news is actually a raging storm, with thunder, lightning -- the works. I look like I never finished my shower.

This happened to me on a Monday about a week ago. Chicago was pelted with rain, it was coming down like buckets with evil wind blowing every which way. On that particular day, I had doctors appointments and several errands to run. I wore some tasteful but appropriate Pumas knowing that I would be walking quite a bit, and also on some level that it was going to be wet outside. I had my umbrella ready. Apparently I was not the only one who didn't get the memo that it was going to be so awful. It was that day which prompted me to buy these critter wellies from J. Crew ($48). They come in plain navy or black, Morton Salt yellow with funky laces, and a pretty partial wool upper which may only be available by catalog.

Style-wise, I'm not totally sold on the rubber boots, though the little hound dog pattern is very East Coast prep. I figured with some argyle socks I might just pull off the look they are selling in the catalog. Functionally, they keep my feet warm and dry, and that's all that really matters when it's sopping wet outside.

It was wet outside this morning, and my fiance was experiencing delays at National Airport in Washingto DC, which usually meant that there was going to be some bad weather here. Were we supposed to get more rain? The weather men told me the majority of the rain was to end by mid to late morning with possible scattered showers in the afternoon. I checked the radar before I left the house. It looked like things were clearing up, so I decided not to lug my umbrella around since I brought it everywhere yesterday though it never rained. So why was I even surprised when I walked out of class this evening that it was pouring outside? In fact, it had been pouring for over an hour. This girl ran across the street to the Walgreens and shelled out the $15 they were charging for another umbrella.

The rain stopped 5 minutes later.

In the beginning...

Hello to my very select blog readers!

Welcome to the inaugural post of my new blog. My previous effort was abandoned two months into the project when a bunch of things in my life changed. I took a break from a day job, started working in earnest on the plans for my pending nuptials, and decided to become a student again. My friend Sue P. (fellow blogger and playwright) reminded me about the old blog, and I see now that I lost interest writing it because it wasn't thought out. I didn't have any idea of my purpose and what format I wanted to use. Since then, I have had a chance to look through some good blogs, and hopefully come up with a better way to pull things together. Then Sue and I started talking and we both decided to blog more, so here I am...clik clak.

This blog is generally about the people, places, events, news items, things, etc. that I come across as I go about my daily life. It may be trivial, amusing, serious, sarcastic -- whatever I'm feeling when I pull out my laptop to write. Once I get a better digital camera I'll incorporate more pictures taken personally into all this. In the mean time, you will find;

● better formatting (I'm starting to get the hang of this system!)

● pics of my subjects, courtesy of the world wide web

● reference links of significant people, places, or things to their appropriate entry in Wikipedia for your reference.

● bolding names for props

● bolding things you might want to looking up but I don't feel like linking


I hope to write in everyday...we'll see how it goes. Let's hope the well doesn't run dry!