Merry Christmas One and All

Enjoy the holidays, everyone!

I'm looking forward to my wee early morning flight to Atlanta tomorrow. My boyfriend is meeting my parents for the first time, so expect some funny stories to ensue.

In case you were wondering, here's my itinerary for the next few days.

1. Pack my bags

2. Sit around the Christmas tree in my bathrobe

3. Rid the world of darkness

4. Rescue young children from their plight of soiled clothing

5. Feed bamboo to starving puppies

Snow Daze

Yesterday involved a lot of running around, so today I've declared an official snow day. 

No subways, no slushy streets... just sitting around the Christmas tree in my apartment watching Netflix, drinking rum and coke.

Good times.

Falling Acid

Last week a few drops of "acid" fell on my head while waiting for a train in the subway station. Good omen or bad, I ask?

Good... I think.

The mysterious fluid-like substance dripped from the ceiling and smelled of rotting cabbage. I guess this is to be expected considering its source. BUT, it almost fell on my head and didn't. I happened to be covering my ears (two loud express trains were going through), and the drops only hit my hands. So instead of the drops falling into my eye and causing permanent blindness, I had really smelly hands. Bad stenches I can handle, blindness not so much.

I understand how carried away this might sound, but this is falling acid, people! Who knows where that water came from or what it passed through before reaching my hand *shudder*

Funny - I can spend 10 days in the woods and not desire a shower, but this geyser of foul water falls on me and it's pretty much the end of the world. It's the same with beetles vs. roaches: I can squish beetles with a tiny piece of toilet paper, but I can't even look at a dead roach without screeching like a murder victim.

Cities are the worst kind of dirty.

AWOL~

Dear Readers, 

Whoever you are, and wherever you are, my apologies for this huge lapse of posting in the blogger space continuum. I owe you a quick update as to what has been occupying so much of my time these last few weeks:

1. I got laid off. And then hired. Long story.

2. I went on LinkedIn and started "friending" anyone who lives in NYC and has ever attended Syracuse University. My search yielded about 30 page results. Sadly, a lot of people picked the "I don't know this person" response. So many that LinkedIn placed my account on probation. Any more networking stunts and they'll shut down my account for good (or so the LinkedIn gods tell me).

3. Going on interviews and nearly slipping in high-heeled shoes twice (once in Port Authority, once while running across the street in the rain). Screw heels.

4. Taking naps.

5. Making mixed cd's for family members using my excellent selection prowess.

6. Listening to Katy Perry's I KISSED A GIRL over and over and over.

7. Buying a coffee maker, which has already paid for itself. 

8. Learning to make a perfectly concocted pot of coffee.

9. Reading NO ANGEL by Penny Vincenzi. Great story, intricately-woven...but riddled with typographical errors in nearly every chapter. I was tempted to mark the mistakes with red pen and then send the book back to Overlook Press (ironic name for a publishing house?).  I've just started Roberto Bolano's THE SAVAGE DETECTIVES. Dirty. Scarily good.

10. Spending my days wrapped in blankets reading books and eating cookies - the apartment is drafty. 

11. Making a (half-hearted) attempt at going to the gym more. 

12. Watching NetFlix classics like THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING. Daniel Day-Lewis gives me shivers.

13. Making lists, because that's pretty much the epitome of fun (!)

14. Visited my old publishing office haunt and read this witty description of myself: "Most New Yorkers found her fresh-faced Midwestern outlook very charming." *twinkle*

15. Improving my culinary skills with each new day of unemployment. 

16. Looking for the slightest thunderbolt of creativity for a blog post. 

Would you buy this lamp?

I recently posted a few craigslist ads, one for a laptop bag and the other for a jungle lamp. 

The jungle lamp ad is a bit flightly, but considering the audience I think it just might work. 

PS - Any takers, let me know...

The Witches of Eastwick

So many post ideas, so little time. I've got a goodie in my head, but I'll need a little time to flesh it out...stay tuned.

Today I bring you a delicious excerpt from last Sunday's NY Times. Tis a book review by Sam Tanenhaus regarding John Updike's The Widows of Eastwick. One part really jumped out of the page. The novel is set in Nixon-era Rhode Island, but the description sounds a bit more like modern-day New York....

A triad of literal witches, sexually rapacious divorcees in their 30s, prey on the menfolk in a shabby-trendy Rhode Island seaside town and, as their power grows, also terrorize the local citizens...

And yet, despite their dream of female empowerment, the witches' fantasies center on a man, a mysteriously well-heeled newcomer 'with greasy curly hair half-hiding behind his ears and clumped at the back...Unsubtly named Darryl Van Horne, he is either Satan or his emissary, given to voluble though not quite coherent Mephistophelian theorizing. Aware the three divorcees are devil-worshipers, he lures them into the brick mansion, Eastwick's finest, which he has bought and gaudily refurbished. The 'malefactresses' cavort in Van Horne's 'eight-foot hot tub,' sexually servicing him and at times one another. They also greedily imbibe lethal cocktails, 'alchemically concocted of tequila and grenadine and creme de cassis and Triple Sec,'...

Sounds like wicked good fun to me. I wonder what Mephistophelian means. If Updike's book comes anywhere close to the quality of this review, I'm totally running out and buying a copy.

(image via Robots! Hot Girls! Monkeys! Weapons! And Vehicles!)

Choose Your Own Adventure!

In the beginning, there was R.L. Stine's Invaders of Hark. And it was good. Droves of children (myself included) devoured such tales of self-design like candy, meanwhile hoping not to fall down a well or accidentally eat a poison mushroom in the next chapter. Let's be honest: these tales are a fine wine that only get better with age.

In the next decade, man made digital format . And it was even better. Where will YOUR fortune cookie take you?

The latest turn in the choose-your-own adventure revolution comes in the form of online video, courtesy of my new favorite soap company, Dove. The story is called "Waking Up Hannah."

Viewers are able to explore three different storylines, all of them following a 20-something girl named Hannah who wakes up dazed and confused after a night of boozin'. From there she takes one of three routes: Energize, Refresh or Cool Moisture. You decide. FYI : you can also read through the text messages in her phone for the full Peeping Tom effect. The storyline you pick ultimately decides her fate in a blind date later that evening. Will poor Hannah stay cool and collected or find herself high and dry? Her destiny lies with you...

Best of the Best, Craigslist

Today we salute you, Craigslist guy, for teaching us how to sell, sell, sell. And for filling our lives with joy. 

1. Craigslist - Richmond, VA.

For complete image, click here. 

"8x8x16 Cement Block - $1"

2. Craigslist New York - Who could forget the infamous "super nanny" post.  

To view complete image, click here. 

To read the NY Times article stemming from this ad, click here. 

3. Craigslist, Nerd Edition

To view complete image, click here. 

4. Craigslist, Exorcist Edition

To view complete image, click here. 

5. Craigslist, Palin Edition

One of my personal favs. 

To view complete image, click here. 

6. Craigslist for Breakups

This one's called  "For Sale: Books for Insecure Women"

To view complete image, click here. 

7. Craigslist for Time Machine Entrepreneurs

To view complete image, click here. Then here. And here. 

Peace (cont.)

Peace, Love, Tranquility. Brought to you by several Wisconsin sunsets of the 1960's.

(aka Uncle "Shooter" Bob)

Peace

One thing I really miss about Wisconsin are the sunsets. This photo was actually taken on Kinney Road in Upstate NY. Funny to see a place so strinkingly similar only a few hours from the City.

Sometimes, as I lie awake at night trying hard to block out the sounds of taxis and ambulances, I pretend I'm back at Richmond Lake in South Dakota. I took a camping trip there by myself two summers ago. It was there I pitched a tent, toted a few bottles of Mike's Hard Cider, and watched the sunset on some rocks down by the water. The weather was cool and breezy. With lots of crickets. Wrapped up in my sleeping bag the first night, I played some old Guy Clark tunes on my ipod until I fell sleep.

(photo via Bedlam Farm)

Daily Puppy

Check out Murphy, today's daily puppy!

This site always makes me smile :)

Table Talk

Not to sound like a snoop, but I tend to make it my business to know other people's business. What's great about eating out in New York is that it involves a goodly amount of eavesdropping as well as my other favorite pastime - eating. The eavesdropping factor is especially high on weekends. Also when the table on either side of yours is six inches away.

A man and a woman at a Tapas Bar, Flor De Sol in Tribeca, were too consumed with their present situation to notice my listening in. I kept overhearing the phrase "Investment Banker." Turns out the woman is a disgruntled divorcée turning their dinner into a vent session. Her friend and victim, Man, spends the majority of the dinner bobbing his head and chiming in a time or two. The poor guy had definitely counted on a happier ending for the evening. Woman's plans only went as far as defining her lonely, passionless, disolate life. I proceed to dub her official representative of C.R.A.P.P.Y. - coalition of restless, angry, pragmatic, power-hungry 'Yorkers.

"I could be a soccer mom driving an Escalade right now, but I would be miserable."
"I miss having that crazy, animalistic sex...I hope you get to experience that someday."

Show Me the Money!!

These are some hard economic times. The signs are everywhere.

Happy Joel's Super Fun Time Weblog

Now here's an artist one can admire and respect. This post goes out to Joel Ross, founder of Happy Joel's Super Fun Time Weblog and professional contest entry winner at large. Allow me to explain. Joel likes entering online video contests. After winning a few $100K contests, he decided to turn it into his day job. And the videos are pretty out there. I'd describe them as cult classics best enjoyed by those who embody great whimsy and flair (i.e. myself, Ms. Peep Show Hall-a-Thon, hired publicist of Joe Samsonite). At the very least, I would recommend these videos to groups of people on Speed or some other mind-altering substance (not that I endorse such measures, but hey, this is America).

I'll let you decide for yourself.

According to his site, Joel lived in Dayton, Ohio, until the age of 18. He works on an average of 7-8 contests at a time - some involving monetary prizes, others a lifetime supply of chocolate milk.

The way I see it, learning to get people to vote for me in online video contests and building my contest army is just to pave the way for my eventual run for President of the United States.

Click my links, join my contest voting army, help me live the dream.

One of my co-workers knows Happy Joel and told me the story behind these mug shots. Once a cop tried pulling Joel over for speeding. Joel wanted to wait until he reached town because he heard it was dangerous to stop for one car in a rural area* Eventually, an entire squad of police cars followed him into town on a low speed chase. When he got out of his car, the cops said something to the effect of "What happened?" Then they all burst into laughter.

*The rule is to not pull over for unmarked police cars in rural areas, and to dial #77 when doing so.

Live from Santa Monica

Wooo!

So I'm sitting here in a hotel room on the West Coast, pondering how to spend the rest of my day. Here for work, I just finished the hardcore training aka sales megaconference portion of the trip. My flight doesn't leave until tomorrow so I think I'll just idle the day away... staring at...the ocean! I can see it from my balcony window (sorta). As I anticipated, Cali has been idyllic and nothing less than awesome. Monday and Tuesday were literally booked from the time I woke up down to the minutes I grew too tired to hold a salty margarita. But not to fear, we managed to squeeze in some fun betwixt all the chaos... fo' sho'.

At first, Los Angeles reminded me of Jersey with a lot of palm trees. I think it was all the flat buildings and stale surroundings. But everything got better once I saw the ocean. The clean, tropical smell in the air replaced thoughts of Jersey with thoughts of Florida. Unlike muggy Fla., mornings here have been foggy and cool - the beach photo above was taken at noon.

Last night, bleary-eyed after a day spent staring at PowerPoint slides, our sales crew of 50 people headed to this awesome Mexican restaurant in Santa Monica, El Cholo. Afterward, most of us headed to a chi chi bar across the street, Temple. Old School jazz tunes circa 1930 filtered through the club from Suzy and the Solid Senders. Solid they were. A few minutes into the night, this random guy came up to me and asked, "Are you Laura from __(insert fictitious company name here)__ ?" Umm, no. I spotted a few co-workers across the room and slowly headed their way for safety.

As for the rest of the evening, good times all around.

My Job Rocks

"Here a news flash for you: college kids is po."

Haha, no, actually: I have the coolest job ever.

Not only are they flying me to L.A. this weekend for training, where I'll be staying at a ritzy hotel in Santa Monica, but I get to work with some of the most interesting characters.

I had such a crazy time last night hanging out with my new office peeps. I'd love to tell you about it, but as it involves the imbibing of beverages and other incriminating events I have to keep the details under wraps. Suffice it to say I'm really enjoying myself, and the end of last night went something like this:

I experienced one of those classic NY moments. Sitting in the taxi next to RedSunRover on our way to Brooklyn, I stared at the skyline looming in front of us, savoring one of the last few warm nights in the City. I felt the fullness of being wined and dined like a rock star. My former travails with the roaches and the pyscho cat wench and the pot smoking roomate suddenly seemed far far away.

I'm Still Here...Promise

I know it's been a while since I last blogged, and I feel terrible about it, especially since there are so many things going on that I want to talk about. Where to start. First off, I started my new job at a Dot Com, and things are going pretty well so far. The office is predominantly male, which leads me to believe my in-depth discussion of the Brett Favre Saga in my interview probably helped more than I thought. It's not the first time I've relied on the Packers as a conversation piece. About a year ago, I got stuck discussing the offensive line with a slew of cops in the subway station while they were giving me a ticket.

Cop 1: "Can I see your driver's license, m'am?"

(Me handing it over, pissed that I actually got caught trying to squeeze through the turnstyle with a friend)

Cop 2: "Wisconsin, heh?"

Cop 3: "You a Packers fan?"

Me: "Yeah."

Cop 2: "They have a pretty good offensive line, don't they?"

Me: "Yeah. They're really young."

(I refused to add any further commentary)

Cop 3: "What about Ryan Grant, he's pretty good."

Me: "Yeah, he is."

Cop 4: "Do you own a cheese hat?"

(I am officially insulted.)

Me: "ACTUALLY, it's common knowledge that people from Green Bay don't usually wear cheese hats. They're more popular with fans from Milwaukee and Chicago."

Cop 4: "Oh...Well, sorrr-y"

That's pretty much end of story. What would have been a very awkward 10 minutes of silence concluded by me getting slammed with a $60 city summons became an annoying (yet harmless) forum entailing idiot New Yorkers discuss a team they know nothing about. Telling off Cop 4 was totally worth the $60. Haha.

And on that note:

Have a great day~

Hearts

Later kids -- I'm outta this City for an extended vacay in America's Dairy Land. As luck would have it, I'm going to hit both my hometown's annual Dairy Fest and the football season opener. Not too shabby. 

My sister made fun of me today for sounding British on the phone -- maybe I'm unconsciously trying to counteract my bumpkin accent ("Well, I reeally doan't knoa what to saaey...") Or maybe it's because I'm reading Mansfield Park for the second time around. So I made a point to daintily clutch RedSun's arm earlier today, saying very aristocratically, "Let us venture forth into this street."

(Thanks Uncle Bob for the photo)

How I Survived Hurricane Bing, Cont.

So maybe my weekend wasn't quite as stressful as a Category 6 Hurricane. But I'm of the belief that first impressions are the longest lasting, and I was bound and determined to make a good one. So I spent the day before their arrival making the apartment shiny and well-stocked with "mother approved" food. I was soo glad our roach problem had been resolved -- a few months ago a thriving family of roaches took up residence in everything from our bed to the kitchen counters. During this time we were also without a fridge because the old one stopped working and our landlords are flakey (Getting it replaced turned out to be a good thing, as the old one had roach eggs embedded in the top folds of the freezer door. The microwave faced a similar fate). I hope you're not eating while reading this.

Back to the parents. In the days leading up to their arrival, they started calling a lot, and I had a feeling they were going to be very "involved" aka smothering. I've been told that Asian parents are a lot like Jewish parents -- frugal, doting and very proactive in their childrens' education. My parents rarely call and have always let me do my own thing, one reason why I grew up to be a self-sufficient little lady. But I knew Mrs. B was slightly torn about RedSun not dating a nice Asian girl: "I don't mind, but if I had my druthers..."

The Parents arrived with several gifts in tow: a box of chocolates, fruit bars, trail mix, Bed Bath and Beyond coupons, moon cakes, rice pockets (pronounced: "Doong"). All seemed well when I met his mother and she hugged me rather than shook my outstretched hand. Mr. B -- who has a very heavy southern accent -- came across as jovial and easy going. RedSun later told me he could sense his father's approval. As the weekend progressed, Mr. B and I formed a bond over our love of coffee and sweets first thing in the morning.

Within a day, Mr. and Mrs. B revamped our fridge to include a highly organized system of fresh produce and other properly arranged foods. They continually fretted over RedSun's recent weight gain and his predisposition to high blood pressure *Cue disapproving glances toward RedSun's midsection* They also bought me a pair of headphones after overhearing me tell RedSun I needed a new set. And they bought paper towels. And a new mini garbage for our bathroom (a South Dakota mate puked in ours one week previous).

Only in rare moments did I feel annoyed: once, when RedSun's mom rearranged the kitchen -- "But where do you put the wet dishes??" *disapproving glance* Of course, everything was put back in place the moment they left for Memphis. Next - the parents' desire to eat semi-authentic Asian food for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I can only take about one or two Asian meals a week before I peace out. We managed to find a middle ground. Lastly - and this one really isn't her fault - Mrs. B reminded me of a former high school boyfriend's mother, who once "stumbled on" an important diary we kept, and then proceeded to read its passages. Both moms came across as very smiley and friendly, but the friendliness always makes me wonder whether they approve or it's all a facade to keep their baby boys happy.

On a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 being the Manson family and 5 being the Cleavers, I'd rate the Bing Peeps a 4.

How I Survived Hurricane Bing

RedSunRover and I were on our best behavior this weekend as a highly volatile storm system - now classified as a Category 6 on the domestic scale of storm fronts - descended on our tiny apartment. In other words, Mama and Papa Bing (The Parents) came for a little visit.

I am happy to report I survived the weekend with only a few mental bruises and elbow scrapes.

Before I recap the weekend, allow me to shed some light on a few factoids:
1. RedSun is the only child and Erin is the eldest of two siblings.
2. RedSun is Asian; Erin's roots are of a feisty Irish/German persuasion.
3. Erin is a neat freak.
4. RedSun has a more "relaxed" approach to what qualifies as clean.
5. Erin grew up staging stuffed animal weddings and fake church ceremonies in the heartland of Wisconsin; RedSun grew up experimenting with firecrackers on the mean streets of Memphis.
6. RedSun's parents call every couple of days; Erin's parents call once every two to three weeks.
7. RedSun will eat anything, including rice every day of the week; Erin follows a strict diet of cheese, milk, bagels and meat. Repeat.

To be continued....

(photo via This Is Glamorous)

Oh Brave World

I am looking out at you from my window above.
Ever dreaming,
Ever scheming,
Wondering what the next day will bring.

I am sitting on a tire swing at a friend's house.
Falling backwards while holding the chains,
Rust marks on my hands later transferred to my jeans,
Hand-me-downs, maybe,
Or pants I've long outgrown.

I am lost in a City I've yet to outgrow.
Asking for directions from an Irish tourist,
I find my way again,
Until my next venture, at least.

I am lost on a dirt road by a swampy marsh.
Grandpa tells me to turn off at a certain path,
A grassy knoll I never find,
My shotgun and the cattails my only companions.

I am running through a corn field with my dog.
She likes to trip me by running too closely behind,
So we walk to a creek filled with deer bones instead,
And design a fort of sticks.

(photo via This is Glamorous)

Moving Moving Must Keep Moving

I can already tell this is going to be one of those months where I end up feeling like 3 years have passed.

Last Wednesday, I got a job offer at a Dot Com (!), and the very next day friends from South Dakota arrived. Followed by a crazy weekend spent running around revisiting the sights of NYC and cleaning vomit off my boyfriend's computer desk. I have two days to get the apartment spick and span; tomorrow, I'm meeting my boyfriend's parents for the first time. And two days after my last day of work (Sept. 4), I'm flying to Wisconsin to see a Packer game. Two weeks later I'm getting flown to L.A. for training. Phew. So exciting and life altering and disorienting and insomnia inspiring because I want to savor every moment!

And to top it all off, I had to bring Sally to the Genius Bar yesterday for repairs...so no laptop for a week :_(

My 70-something friend Joe from the Syracuse Barnes and Noble clan (have I mentioned I was part of a Barnes and Noble clan?) sent me this photo as a response to the glamor shot of my mom sailing. Just when I thought this month had packed in every possible location from my past, Joe brings a little Syracuse air into the mix. Pretty stylin' there, Joe.

Sailing

Who is this at first glance?

Bet you thought it was me. Gotcha!

Actually, my uncle took this of my mom in 1980, when she was a senior in high school.

I love her natural, effortless beauty in this pose. 

Sunrise

Sometimes I wish I could jump down a rabbit hole and end up here.

Thinking about my upcoming trip to Wisconsin makes me want to frolick... and make garlands out of daisies...and take lovely photographs...

(via Bedlam Farm)

Spoil Me

Yesterday my mom came to visit for the first time since I moved to NY! I was thrilled, no doubt about it. And the weekend just so happened to coincide with her 40-something birthday (yea, my mom punted me from her womb at the ripe old age of 22). I took several photos of our day filled with overpriced excursions - followed by counter tactics such as scouting for knockoff designer purses on Canal St., then smuggling miniature Heineken kegs in named purses. After taking the photo above I went back to where RedSunRover was waiting. I said, "I took a photo of my mom's first pedicure."

RSR: "When was that?"

Me: "A few seconds ago."

I, on the other hand, have had three pedicures this year. With New York being a culture hub and all, it's easy to feel spoiled... but no worse than Suri Cruise and her designer outfits worth more than my entire closet...

1. Access to some of the best doctors and dentists in the world. My dentist is so personable, he'll follow up the next day even for a regular cleaning. I have the cell numbers for both my dermatologist and dentist on standby.

2. Getting paid $15/hour to babysit or pick up the poo of someone else's dog. (Unspoiled: accidentally wheeling your suitcase through a leaning tower of dog poo and then having to scrape it off with paper scraps).

3. Designer clothing stores within a 15-minute walk. Even better: A lovely McDonalds establishment two blocks away so I can get iced hazelnut coffee any time of the a day.

4. Free classical, bluegrass, jazz music in the subway. And impromptu dance troupes. And percussion instrument sessions involving 10-gallon buckets.

5. Speaking of the subway system, $81 a month for an unlimited subway pass. Rising gas prices don't matta so much in this town.

6. Dropping off my laundry for someone else to wash and fold. I don't mind shelling out 75% of my laundry bag's weight, not one bit.

7. Paying less than the $700/month I was paying to live in a one-bedroom apartment with two other girls. (Believe me, this is a bargain for Manhattan). Thanks, RedSunRover!

8. Easy access to my favorite spa, Spa Belles, two blocks from work. Overpriced, true. But necessary pampering for a Midwest Mommy who used to run on gravel roads without shoes as a child. (I'm sure she'd be tickled to know I'm letting the world in on this).

9. Living in a city everyone is dying to visit. What better excuse not to spend money on plane tickets to see friends & family? Like I always say, "If you can't get home, get home to come to you."

10. Feeling like a NYC expert when friends visit, even though I'm not.

Pic of the Day #2

Okay, so once again I am posting photos that have nothing to do with living in New York. But these are too funny to be ignored!
(via Confessions of a Pioneer Woman)

Have a great weekend everyone!

Pic of the Day

I never thought I'd see a cow reading William Butler Yeats. But here it is. Oh Bessie, do you ever long for your own Maude Gonne?

She's thinking:
-"Aye me, sad hours seem long."
-"Yes, Erin...Forlorn, I must travel this world alone."
-"I'm so hungry."

She's reading:
"Brown Penny"

I whispered, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.'
Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.
O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

Photo courtesy of Bedlam Farm.

The Great Sport of Life

I met a guy at a bar once.
As I was about to leave, he asked for my number.
In the spirit of fun, I gave it to him. Nobody meets people in bars anymore, or so I thought. The next time we met up, it was at my favorite Packer bar, where we watched my boys trounce the Oakland Raiders, 37-27.
Four months later, we moved in together.

Ah, such is the pace of life in NY, especially when it comes to dating. But I digress. Today is about football. Yesterday, August 11, kicked off a special time of year, a time of new beginnings. A holiday season of testosterone, if you will. From now until February, I’ll be spending my Sundays in front of televisions the size of Buicks, checking conference rankings, fantasy picks, ESPN montages, and the occasional man-to-man butt slap.

As a girl who enjoys many activities associated with men (gambling, fishing, hunting) football has a strange power over me. It transports me to a different place in time. It makes me happy in ways few other activities can. Not to mention slightly hot and bothered, depending on the team. It’s very freeing to be able to scream and swear without anyone getting upset (except that one time I shouted WHO CARES ABOUT THE GIANTS?) whoops.

Football is a lot like dating. You go into the situation full of anticipation and high hopes. Using the right combination of plays and textbook maneuvers, there may be a chance to score. Whether you’re watching or playing, there’s a lot of down time involved. There’s the adrenaline high of winning, and the crushing blows of losing.

So here’s to a great season and a great sport. May the best
manteam win.

Nostalgia. Gets me every time.

This photo beautifully captures the essence of life on Bedlam Farm, a blog written by Slate contributor Jon Katz. I check his blog constantly for daily updates on three adorable pups: Lenore (pictured here), Rose and Izzy. Katz, also a Random House author, spends a great deal of time exploring the personalities of Lenore, the Lover, Rose, the Workaholic, and Izzy, the Healer.

As I do not have A) the time B) the money or C) the space for a dog in the City, I have decided to live vicariously through Katz's blog. And dog sitting jobs. Side note: A few weeks ago, I read John Grogan's Marley and Me. You would have thought I was reading about AIDS orphans in Africa, the way I carried on like a wee baby during the sad parts. Now this may come as a shock, but I also cried while watching Air Bud a few years ago.

To read the backstory of Lenore the Lab and Brutus the Ram, click here.

Tired.

Does anyone else feel this way when 5 o'clock rolls around? Today was just one of those days. Thank goodness I wore my red feather boa so I had something to use as a floor cushion. (Okay, so that's not really me, but it works)

Photo courtesy of 20x200, great art for $20 and up.

Does This Make Me a Bad "Working Girl" ?

This is a response to "Bored On a Summer Friday," brought to you by the awesome bloggers of Working Girl. Their blog encompasses everything job newbies need to know about entering the work force, from networking to annoying people in your cube space to office hangovers. I love it!

Now the "Summer Friday" post explores a very interesting tally of websites for whiling away a sluggish workday. One such site, Gawker Stalker, is A-Okay in my book. It's a definite ego boost to know the celebs think your neighborhood is the place to be and be seen. But why is it the fashionista sites Jezebel and FabSugar just don't light my fire? Maybe it's because I'd rather be checking ESPN.com and the stock market (google+"UNG") every five minutes? Bad Working Girl I? Guilty as charged.

Exhibit A: Fabulous Working Girl - chic, sophisticated, stiletto wearing martini drinker

Exhibit B: Me - rider of sheep, ripped jeans, beer chugging awesomeness

All the Cool Kids Gamble, You Should Too

At the risk of alienating friends, I have to say I'm not a huge Jersey fan. But I LOVE Atlantic City. Among a series of "firsts" I've accomplished in the last year (first real job, first apartment, first move-in with a boy) I've actually won money via gambling. I won $120 three weeks ago playing craps. We went back last week and I lost $40 back. And I have never had so much fun losing at something!

I've been to Atlantic City five times since January. I'd be going every weekend this summer had I inherited baller funds from a rich dead aunt or something. My avid gambler boyfriend (think Bling Bling meets Kung Fu Panda) will have to suffice. Even when I think we should stay home and save money, he's always enticing me with "I'm due for a win" and other lofty lines. Leaving the City is what keeps us sane, and I have Atlantic City to thank for that. Here's just a few of the things I love...

The Beach: Even if you're not into gambling, chances are you're at least a fan of lying on the beach and sipping frosty drinks. Hungry? No prob. There's at least two full-service bikini bars on the beach. And you can't miss the scrappy beach vendors lugging large ice boxes full of $1 treats.

The Bums: I've found Boardwalk Bums to be a lot more creative in their peddling methods (i.e. guitar guys doing Johnny Cash voice-overs) than NYC bums. Using one's musical talents - or lack thereof - tends to be the rule. And then there are entertainers by default, such as the ripped runner we saw toting an oversized piece of driftwood across his shoulders. We couldn't help chuckling over how ridiculous he looked - "Gee whiz... can I get a lift? teehee"

Free Drinks at the Tables: Need I say more?

Free Trip Money: This is a big IF, but if you come out ahead at the tables, the winnings can be used to pay off the trip. We only broke even once, but let me say this prospect is enough to get me on a crappy Greyhound bus. Which, by the way, is $15 round trip per person - less than what you would spend on a taxi ride to the Upper West Side.

Great Food: Two words - Stephen Starr. We're talking top-notch food at very reasonable prices here people. My personal fav is the trendy Buddakan, a restaurant fit for a Buddhist colony. Their asian fusion theme transcends everything, from its meticulous food designs to an atmosphere of dark wood swathed in sheets of satin. And PS - their chickpea ravioli is to DIE for. If you look closely at this picture, you'll see there are lights glowing from within the table. Not bad, eh?

And if the food isn't enough to get you there, maybe this terrace view will:

OMG

Is it possible?! Laura Ingalls on Broadway? With Melissa Gilbert playing Caroline "Ma" Ingalls! My knees feel weak just thinking about it. Having watched the TV show religiously (RIP Michael Landon), read the books, and visited De Smet, SD, along the Laura Ingalls Wilder Historic Highway, THIS I gotta see.

Now excuse me while I mosey on over to the Ol' Amazon Outpost for a few staples ...

It's Storytime, Kids!

Today I read an article about this hilarious Craigslist Ad seeking a sitter for "5 Kids, Including an 18-year-old" Hmmm...that situation sounds vaguely familiar. As a former nanny-for-hire, I probably would have considered such methods of torture had the opportunity presented itself. "Reduced rent! Score!"

I never had to deal with a coddled Ivy League Brat, but there were a few incidents which gave me pause and questioned my sanity.

Gather 'round, everyone!

Rewind to one year ago *~(fog sequence)~*

"I HATE you! You're the worst babysitter ever! You're NEVER coming to my house again!" said Porcelain Princess No.1, her pigtail braids shaking with rage. Tears pooled in her eyes and streaked down her cheeks between fits -- I swear I caught a whiff of hydrocholric acid. "I DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU!" she screamed.

Porcelain Princess No. 2, identical in appearance to No. 1 but slightly less scheming at this exact moment, surveyed the scene with much smugness. "You have to do what Babysitter says, she's in charge," said No. 2. The girls, 5 years old, were undoubtedly the apple of their parents' eye. Beautiful with bright brown eyes, chesnut hair and pale skin, they had learned to work their charm at an early age.

Their younger brother, only a few months old, crawled around the playroom floor without a care in the world. The twins' older brother, Naughty Jack Turner, pretended to ignore the unfolding scene while playing in a life size plastic kitchen.

Minutes earlier, Naughty Jack Turner, in an oft-repeated attempt to punish his attention-stealing sisters, randomly hit Porcelain Princess No. 1. He hit her until she became so enraged I couldn't stop her retaliations. She needed a time-out. But apparently No. 1 was not used to being disciplined in such a manner. She refused to sit down. I had to literally restrain her so she wouldn't get up from the seat. She did not like this. One. Bit. She screamed and kicked and scratched and flung a toy at me until I was able to free one hand and take it away. I had never seen a child so possessed and mad at the world before - it was as if Dr. Frankenstein's creature invaded her body ("Baaaaaaaar!") I doubt their mother noticed the flecks of blood on my arms later that night.

"This is it," I thought. "I am never babysitting for these horrible, horrible children ever again." But sure enough, a week later when they called and I was still without a full-time job, I caved.

Hip City Kids vs. Children of the Corn

I think about the future often. Especially when it comes to topics regarding career goals, family and LOCATION. I know I don't want to live in a big city forever, but I doubt I could ever go back to living in a town of 600 people. It's beautiful and clean and friendly and spacious and inviting, but so... so...isolated. (I feel like a complete snob saying that, but it's true).

A few months ago, while mentally comparing my wholesome, sheltered youth to the crazies and scam artists of New York, I casually thought aloud to one co-worker, "You know, I could never raise my children in the City." Little did I know she grew up in Brooklyn. She had also been subjected to this very comment numerous times over the course of her life, and this time she wasn't going to take it lying down. The fuse had officially been lit.

Do children enjoy a better quality of life in the city, the suburbs, or rural communities? What an interesting debate!

Our conversation was pretty heated; I was on the receiving end of more than one insinuated jabs about us country kids spending all our time getting drunk and drugged out at pit parties. (Pit Party: a party which takes place in remote locations such as woodsy areas and dirt roads, thus minimizing interference from local authorities. In the case of a police bust, the accomodating forests double as excellent cover from search lights). Her argument was simple: because there is so little to do in the country, teens are more apt to spend their time experimenting with booze and drugs. She added, children have more opportunities in larger cities by virtue of their easy access to larger school systems and college preperatory high schools.

So here's my deal. I wouldn't trade my childhood years in Timbuktu, WI, for a million city opportunities. I love that one of my earliest memories entails me skipping down the road, completely broke out with the chicken pox, excited to see cows. Just cows. And I love that my school bus driver was the sweetest red-haired lady, who, when irked by the naughty boys, would throw them in a garbage can. I love that I not only know how to hail a cab, but also how to skin a deer and drive a forklift. I love that there were only 8 kids in my grade school class, and that three of them were cousins (I still remember most of their birthdays). I love that we had a huge playground surrounded by fields, not the fenced-in parks of NYC which remind me of dog runs. I love that our favorite game growing up was not Super Nintendo, but a game called "Orphans" in which we pretended to live under a bridge a la the Boxcar Children. I love that we kept the key to our house on a pink shoelace under a window 10 feet from the door. I love that most of my town idolized the Green Bay Packers because THAT was the only thing to do. And of course, there were drawbacks, and I did get bored sometimes, but that's life.

When I did enter the real world, it was (and continues to be) a rude awakening. And in most cases, that's a good thing. Until high school, I had no idea there were religions in the world beyond Catholicism and Lutheranism, mainly because I didn't get the exposure to diversity most city kids get. And I'm still prone to scams and scammers because I am so inherently trusting of other people. BUT! I'm learning. I sometimes wonder what my life would be like now had I grown up in the city, but truth be told, it really doesn't bother me that I'll never get to find out.