Where the Cup Runneth Over Since 1854

Take a close look at this photo. See if you can find the following objects: 

1. A small statue of JFK's head. 

2. A "Wanted" poster for Abe Lincoln's assassin. 

3. Bulbous objects resembling tribal masks

4. A skeleton*

5. An orb*

6. A metal tripod that could be something straight out of the Titanic. It's just as old and covered in 3 inches of dust. The small objects dangling from this rod are wishbones. Legend has it several soldiers left these bones here -McSorley's Old Ale House - before leaving for WWII. The remaining wishbones represent those who did not survive the war to retrieve their bone. 

Of the million and one places in Manhattan to lose oneself in sweet toxic juices, I ended up at McSorley's Saturday night - the oldest bar in New York. Apparently they had quite the basement operation going when Prohibition was in full swing. Also, women were not admitted to the bar until 1970 when a Supreme Court ruling upended this restriction. When ordering a drink, one only needs to say "light" (ale) or "dark" (ale). For $4.50 they give you two mugs right off the bat. This joint was packed and bustling on Saturday; definitely the place to be if you're rambling around the East Village some evening looking to quench your thirst. 

*Trick questions. The "skeleton" is actually a window shade and the "orb" is a real light. 

Coffee Bar Hopping

My life is incomplete in one small but important area. 

Sure, I have a great apartment situation in a cute Brooklyn neighborhood. I am gainfully employed. I have a kickass room with shade #9 "Chelsea" walls. What more could one ask for in life, you say? 

Peeps, I am in desperate need of a quality cafe hangout. I'm talking about the kind of place with big comfy chairs where you can just kick back and get lost in a book for an entire day. I've managed to find great places in most of my former cities  - in Syracuse, the Barnes & Noble on Erie Blvd., and during my South Dakota internship, Coffee Smith and Red Rooster. By comparison, the New York B&N's are always filled to the brim with people. I suppose a fear of homeless people camping out in their stores may explain the absence of big comfy chairs and fire places. Alas, the store's cozy "escape" factor has been lost forever on me.

As a whole, the NY coffee scene pales in comparison to my former haunts. Especially when I think of the memories...the memories! My relationship with the Syracuse B&N escalated to the point where I joined a "chair gang" comprised of a 35-year-old nurse, a 70-year-old retired physicist, a 60-year-old bear hunter and myself (we still keep in touch). One scary night in SD leaving the Rooster, I agreed to drive an acquaintance home only to learn that he really just wanted my number...and to tell me that his ex-girlfriend had filed a restraining order against him. But oh Rooster, how could I forget your delectable ice cream drinks, your free coffee, your cheap used books? Sigh. New York, you have a very tall order to fill.

Today I set out once again to find The perfect place. This time I limited my cafe hopping to the Ft Greene area. Several caffeinated beverages later, I am still disappointed (though quite jittery). Here's a short breakdown of the places I've visited and where they rank: 

Best Food: Ortine Cafe

Very tucked-away and out-of-place; you would never know of this cafe's existence unless you actually passed it on the street. Great food, but expensive. It would be hard to spend more than a few hours here since A) I would go broke and B) my back would go broke from their hard restaurant-style tables and chairs. 

Best Coffee: Bittersweet

Great Mocha. Again, very uncomfortable tables and chairs. My neck started hurting after only 30 minutes of trying to read while sitting upright in perfect posture. 

Best Atmosphere: Tillie's of Brooklyn

Fun place; lots of people and live bands on the weekend. There's also walls filled with local art on the upper level. Their chicken sandwich is to die for. But then again, you'll find the same uncomfortable tables and chairs here. Also, it's a popular spot so I find myself constantly distracted by the comings and goings of others. 

Best Sweets: Green Apple Cafe

Tried this place for the first time tonight. Their mocha tasted very bitter; won't try that again. However, they have quite the selection of confectionary goodies (cupcakes, bars, pies, cakes). Sweets tend to have their way with me. 

Now, as soon as I find a coffee joint which embodies all of these traits, I will be one very happy girl. 

To Queens and Back Again: A Hobbit's Tale

Today I made the epic journey from Brooklyn to Queens to pick up a radioactive watermelon bridesmaid dress that I ordered two months ago. The David's Bridal people told me to try on the dress one more time to make sure it fit, so I did. After sliding into it, I could tell something wasn't right - it just didn't feel the same. Walking over to the mirrors, my suspicions were confirmed: I've lost some weight. Now I have exactly four months to start eating truckloads of food so I can fit into this dress. One of the bridal attendants told me that a smaller dress size would be too small, case closed. Ergo, I must wear this dress. I'm thinking a corset might add some girth, but corsets are also inclined to have a "flattening" rather than "fattening" effect. The eating begins...now.

Here's the kicker: my friend is having us wear full-length dresses and petticoats in late July. I have a feeling this has something to do with the conservative nature of her church. However, Wisconsin easily reaches temperatures in the 90's around that time of year. It could end up being the perfect 70-degree summer day, but who can predict Wisco weather in July? Unless my friend's tiny church has Central Air, it's pretty much a given that I'll be leaving the ceremony glistening with perspiration.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I bring you the dress. Make sure you choose the watermelon color swatch.

The Single Life: Day 7

I am enjoying these last few moments of silence before falling asleep in a bed that is entirely mine. I could get used to this. Aside from the occasional police siren which reminds me that I'm in New York, my quiet Brooklyn room feels like a world of its own.

At Day 7, it's disorienting to come home when it doesn't yet feel like home. But this place is growing on me a little more each day. Over the weekend I plan to paint my room a deep shade of Chelsea Purple. Fresh coat = fresh start? 

Sometimes when I daydream I think about all of the various turns my life could take in a matter of seconds...two weeks ago, I was still living with my ex, focusing on running to Whole Foods rather than addressing my feelings about the relationship. Now I'm ordering takeout nonstop and basking in the "me time" I so love. 

Goals for the week: serious girl bonding, room painting, reading, sleeping in -- and frankly my dear, not giving a damn.

Big Changes

You never know what life's going to throw at you.

For me, it was a gradual but growing unhappiness that reared its ugly head this week when RedSunRover and I finally called it quits. 

It's a funny thing, breaking up. My longest relationship before RedSun lasted 7 months, and that was in high school. Before that, my big fling was a second grade "boyfriend" who stood by me when all the girls decided to exile me from their group.   

Somehow, I managed to find an awesome Brooklyn apartment in less than 24 hours. Obviously I couldn't continue living with an ex, but the breakup happened to fall exactly one week before Feb. 1st. Like everything else in NY, the apartment hunt had to be an accelerated process. Finding one turned out to be much easier than I thought it was going to be; I can probably thank the tanking economy for this. 

It's going to feel weird not having a boyfriend, but I'm comforted by the fact that we had a great year together. I'm grateful this hasn't escalated into an extremely messy situation, and that I'll be able to stay friends with my ex moving forward. He's my best friend - always has been, always will be.  Let the healing begin.

Staycation

Subzero temperatures, a failing economy and cabin fever can only lead to one thing: Staycation!

Of course, we wouldn't dare leave Chewy behind.

RedSunRover and I spent Saturday night at Gild Hall in the Financial District. I was very impressed by the lodge-like lobby and Old English vibe. Deer horns on the ceiling reminded me of a decked out version of my family's hunting shack in Wisconsin (minus the outhouse). RedSun and I rented a Western flick and ordered in Dominos as any high roller guest would do ;)  My only complaint was that their restaurant was closed off for breakfast Sunday morn. No attempts were made by the Concierge to make their guests happy when we expressed our discontent at checkout. Too bad...this place was SO close to getting my seal of approval. My deprived stomach overrules over anything else in this decision making process. At least I have my cowboys (Ed Harris and Viggo Mortensen) to think back on with fondness. 

A Modest Proposal

Today I spent $200 on a bright watermelon dress to be worn this July in one of my best friends' weddings. I've got another "Heineken bottle" green dress waiting in the wings for my sister's wedding...which is postponed until further notice. Now, I'm a good bridesmaid: I love my friends and I'll wear a less-than-dazzling dress to keep them happy (for this occasion and this occasion alone). More than losing money, however, I'm concerned about losing all my single friends to the Other Side. Please come back!

I'm pretty old-fashioned by most standards, so it amazes me that so many of my friends/former classmates are married, with children, or both. Facebook keeps me updated on all the happenings, of course. When I see yet another "Mike and Stacy's Wedding Album," I experience a strange mixture of reactions: first, an appreciation for the aesthetic beauty of the ceremony, the wedding dress, the hair, the food, etc. Secondly, a big gold star sense of achievement in being able to retain my singleton status. Lastly, a feeling of big change in the world and my relationship to the people in it. 

For example...

During Christmas vacation I was going through some albums and happened upon a funny Wisconsin middle school basketball photo. In it we all look very wide-eyed, eager, full of promise. Fourteen years ago, none of us had kids, and now more than half do. FYI: I hated middle school. But now I want those young-silly years back! Most of my New York friends are unmarried, but I have a feeling this will change in the next few years. Conclusion: I need to relish these bachelorette days with bachelorette friends before they, too, venture to the Other Side  :(

I deplore you; Friends, please stay unmarried so we can hit the bars together Friday nights without worrying about feeding the kids, feeding the husband, or any other matronly duties I could insert here. Let's relish this time of freedom in our 20's; relish these peak years while our chests are still perky and our hips are narrow. There will be plenty of time for cute babies and smart-mouthed husbands. If you're thinking about getting married, please, come to New York so I can buy you a drink. It's the least you can do for a yet tied-down friend. Think hard before agreeing to that wedding proposal. Think hard before saying goodbye to late nights spent gossiping, reading Cosmo together, and counting down from 100 on the phone.

Princess Week

The first week of January shall henceforth be known as "Princess Week."

Two years ago - New Years Eve 2006 - I experienced a life-changing New Years holiday. It's not a day I remember with fondness. I spent most of the night hostessing at the lovely local Red Lobster establishment. Later that evening, I got stood up. A Syracuse "townie," of all people. I watched the ball drop from my couch, then turned in a few minutes later madder than ever.  As I've mentioned before, this was the catalyst which inspired me to move to New York (you can thank this boy for my blog). Whereas the poor guy, two months after standing me up, totaled his truck and got a DUI.

Okay, so about Princess Week - it started off a little shaky, but eventually gained momentum. I caught a horrible stomach virus in Atlanta four hours before my flight was supposed to take off. I'm sure you've been there. We're talking stomach flu where it feels like an animal is literally eating your insides. I couldn't eat anything but saltines and Sprite until Tuesday. When I got home, however, I only had to work one day because New Years Day was approaching. I was catsitting for my aunt and uncle at their expansive Upper West Side apartment. Cue many hours spent playing Nintendo Wii Mario Kart and watching such cable TV reality gems as "Platinum Weddings" and "What Not to Wear." 

My current boyfriend and I spent our New Years Eve/one year anniversary at Capitale, an investment bank-turned-fancy event venue with high vaulted ceilings and crests etched in all corners.  We spent three hours yesterday at Silk Day Spa getting deep tissue massages and sitting in the steam baths. After the spa we headed to Roth's Steakhouse for surf and turf. 

Who's laughing now?

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."