Thursday, October 18, 2007
My new Baby
Her name is Baby. She is black, sleek and smooth. She is confident, young and fast. She is my new car baby and I love her!
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
The Bad The Worse and The Ugly
Dating is not a pretty matter. Well at least it hasn’t been on many occasions for me. I thought a nice little recap of my experience thus far was long over due.
Let’s start in High School.
This gal has always been open to all kinds of people. It is what I love. I try to give everyone a chance (that is after judging them immediately of course) and here’s where it has left me.
Picture it. High school sophomore year. I visit my friends mom at work. The next day she tells me that one of her co-workers saw me, and asked for me. “He would die to go out with you”. She said. Hmm, well hadn’t been out on a date in a long time and I certainly did not want the situation to become deadly. “Why not”? I thought.
The Redneck (yes his neck was red)
He met me at a coffee house downtown (before I was permitted to drink legally). He pulled up in a red pick up truck, with a confederate hanging from the back. After a nice conversation he told me about his pets, a few sheep, some cows, some horses, and goat. This girl from NY said those are not pets, that my friend is a farm. Old McDonald had fewer animals than this guy. He was very nice, I would have maybe been able to look past his missing teeth and balding at 20 but…..I pray every day that the south will not rise again and animals stay in zoos or in the wild where they belong. Luckily enough I got out of that one.
The Bosnian
A very attractive guy that I met out at the bar in my college/home town. He was sweet, made Turkish coffee for me, and looked like Jude Law. Yum. Valentines day my new friend picked me up and presented me with a rose, a beautiful start to an evening that changed abruptly. He the entire way to his house told me a story about a girl from my college who he was in love with. A girl that he had met and she rejected him. It happens to the best of us, I thought. Then he told me who she was. She turned out to be a good friend of mine with whom I studied in Italy. She was possibly one of the sweetest girls I had ever met. I may be a good person, but she is a great person. This is where it started to go down hill. We went back to his house, where he presented me with a box. I opened the red, Wal-Mart, jewelry box to a gold, heart shaped necklace. I have never once in my life owned a gold item of jewelry. Well by choice. So here, my new beau after talking insistently about a friend of mine whom he loved gave me one of the ugliest forms of affection I have ever received. He had single handedly ruined two of my favorite things, flowers and jewelry…..I was at any moment expecting a box of chocolate covered insects. So I said goodbye to Turkish coffee and Bosnian actor look a likes and took myself home.
The Compulsive Liar
Now I was going to just do bad dates but I couldn’t resist this one (and I saw the Bosnian for more than one date so now multi-dates or relationships (ick) are included). Now we get to one of the worst.
Facts:
Attractive – Ethnic – Hispanicy - Male
From New York
Previously married
Moved from Hawaii
Masters in International Business
In a Jazz band
Surfer
True Facts:
Male
The Loser
So. Even though I get asked out quite a bit, everywhere and anywhere, I decided to give internet dating a whirl. This last one and the most recent date was a product of this endeavor.
Picture/Profile
Attractive
Creative
Older aka 30’s
Man
After a few phone calls back and forth I was on my way back from traveling back from PA and he called again. I had just gotten off the bus from a very long, fabulous, and crazy weekend. Yes I did say PA.
“Why don’t you stop by for a drink on your way home?” He asked.
“Well I look horrible”. I said.
“I have just been on a bus for 2 hours and I have been traveling all day”.
“Just stop by a coffee shop to freshen up”. He replied.
“The correct answer is, you always look gorgeous”. I informed him.
“Are you hungry”? He asked.
“No I ate before leaving PA”. I said.
“Good, cause I’m stuff”. He said. –I interpreted this as…….I am cheap and will not pay for dinner.
I arrive. I did not look that bad. I was wearing a black fitted skirt, a white collared shirt, a black vest and high heels.
“Is that what you wear traveling”. He asked in a non complimentary way.
“Yes”. I replied.
“Well, you’ll change your shoes when we go for walks, right?” He asked. I should have known then.
I looked him over. He looked about 10 years older than his picture. He was short, poorly dressed, lived in great building but….wait what’s this???? He was completely bald in the back. If that wasn't enough here are just a few more of the lovely qualities and characteristics of my Sunday night date.
In no particular order
Unemployed
Unattractive
Doesn’t drink alcohol because it puts him to sleep
Only thing in his realm of interest was rock bands (something I know nada about)
Last 3 girlfriends were manic depressive/bi polar….does that make it his last 6???
Asked if I was on any mental illness medication
Asked how I felt about marijuana?
Germaphobic – and living in one of the dirtiest cites in the US
When the check came he gave me a story about having lost his ATM card that day.
When I put in my share I saw him getting quarters out of his wallet. I offered to take care of the whole $7 bill.
When I told him I was taking a cab home…instead of offering me fair…he offered to walk me to the bus stop instead. And criticised me for taking a cab home even though I was by myself at 10:30pm.
I hailed a cab. Told the sweet cabbie the whole story. And e-mail my date a nice little note the next day.
Dear Loser,
So glad I had the opportunity to meet you last night. I do not think you are what I am looking for right now.
Take Care.
Your girl,
Lucky to get out of this one
He wouldn't have liked me long term anyway. Since I am not bi polar, dont own hand sanitizer, walk around the city in high heels, and oh wait have to go to a job everyday. Bummer. :-)
Your girl,
Really Lucky
Let’s start in High School.
This gal has always been open to all kinds of people. It is what I love. I try to give everyone a chance (that is after judging them immediately of course) and here’s where it has left me.
Picture it. High school sophomore year. I visit my friends mom at work. The next day she tells me that one of her co-workers saw me, and asked for me. “He would die to go out with you”. She said. Hmm, well hadn’t been out on a date in a long time and I certainly did not want the situation to become deadly. “Why not”? I thought.
The Redneck (yes his neck was red)
He met me at a coffee house downtown (before I was permitted to drink legally). He pulled up in a red pick up truck, with a confederate hanging from the back. After a nice conversation he told me about his pets, a few sheep, some cows, some horses, and goat. This girl from NY said those are not pets, that my friend is a farm. Old McDonald had fewer animals than this guy. He was very nice, I would have maybe been able to look past his missing teeth and balding at 20 but…..I pray every day that the south will not rise again and animals stay in zoos or in the wild where they belong. Luckily enough I got out of that one.
The Bosnian
A very attractive guy that I met out at the bar in my college/home town. He was sweet, made Turkish coffee for me, and looked like Jude Law. Yum. Valentines day my new friend picked me up and presented me with a rose, a beautiful start to an evening that changed abruptly. He the entire way to his house told me a story about a girl from my college who he was in love with. A girl that he had met and she rejected him. It happens to the best of us, I thought. Then he told me who she was. She turned out to be a good friend of mine with whom I studied in Italy. She was possibly one of the sweetest girls I had ever met. I may be a good person, but she is a great person. This is where it started to go down hill. We went back to his house, where he presented me with a box. I opened the red, Wal-Mart, jewelry box to a gold, heart shaped necklace. I have never once in my life owned a gold item of jewelry. Well by choice. So here, my new beau after talking insistently about a friend of mine whom he loved gave me one of the ugliest forms of affection I have ever received. He had single handedly ruined two of my favorite things, flowers and jewelry…..I was at any moment expecting a box of chocolate covered insects. So I said goodbye to Turkish coffee and Bosnian actor look a likes and took myself home.
The Compulsive Liar
Now I was going to just do bad dates but I couldn’t resist this one (and I saw the Bosnian for more than one date so now multi-dates or relationships (ick) are included). Now we get to one of the worst.
Facts:
Attractive – Ethnic – Hispanicy - Male
From New York
Previously married
Moved from Hawaii
Masters in International Business
In a Jazz band
Surfer
True Facts:
Male
The Loser
So. Even though I get asked out quite a bit, everywhere and anywhere, I decided to give internet dating a whirl. This last one and the most recent date was a product of this endeavor.
Picture/Profile
Attractive
Creative
Older aka 30’s
Man
After a few phone calls back and forth I was on my way back from traveling back from PA and he called again. I had just gotten off the bus from a very long, fabulous, and crazy weekend. Yes I did say PA.
“Why don’t you stop by for a drink on your way home?” He asked.
“Well I look horrible”. I said.
“I have just been on a bus for 2 hours and I have been traveling all day”.
“Just stop by a coffee shop to freshen up”. He replied.
“The correct answer is, you always look gorgeous”. I informed him.
“Are you hungry”? He asked.
“No I ate before leaving PA”. I said.
“Good, cause I’m stuff”. He said. –I interpreted this as…….I am cheap and will not pay for dinner.
I arrive. I did not look that bad. I was wearing a black fitted skirt, a white collared shirt, a black vest and high heels.
“Is that what you wear traveling”. He asked in a non complimentary way.
“Yes”. I replied.
“Well, you’ll change your shoes when we go for walks, right?” He asked. I should have known then.
I looked him over. He looked about 10 years older than his picture. He was short, poorly dressed, lived in great building but….wait what’s this???? He was completely bald in the back. If that wasn't enough here are just a few more of the lovely qualities and characteristics of my Sunday night date.
In no particular order
Unemployed
Unattractive
Doesn’t drink alcohol because it puts him to sleep
Only thing in his realm of interest was rock bands (something I know nada about)
Last 3 girlfriends were manic depressive/bi polar….does that make it his last 6???
Asked if I was on any mental illness medication
Asked how I felt about marijuana?
Germaphobic – and living in one of the dirtiest cites in the US
When the check came he gave me a story about having lost his ATM card that day.
When I put in my share I saw him getting quarters out of his wallet. I offered to take care of the whole $7 bill.
When I told him I was taking a cab home…instead of offering me fair…he offered to walk me to the bus stop instead. And criticised me for taking a cab home even though I was by myself at 10:30pm.
I hailed a cab. Told the sweet cabbie the whole story. And e-mail my date a nice little note the next day.
Dear Loser,
So glad I had the opportunity to meet you last night. I do not think you are what I am looking for right now.
Take Care.
Your girl,
Lucky to get out of this one
He wouldn't have liked me long term anyway. Since I am not bi polar, dont own hand sanitizer, walk around the city in high heels, and oh wait have to go to a job everyday. Bummer. :-)
Your girl,
Really Lucky
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Monday Night Lights
So it is the second week of my new old job. After work I test drove my first car, my first reliable car and still made it to the train to dinner.
We went to a small little European Wine bar called ino. It was smack in the middle of an intersection of about 5 roads that were conveniently under construction. After calling the restaurant from 1 block away I finally made it to the dimly lit haven that sells full heavy glasses of wine and Italian savory treats. I waited at the bar and watched the bartender pour my perfect glass. The glass was half full when the bottle ran out. In no greater time than 4 seconds he slide a stool over with his foot, propped himself up, grabbed a bottle of wine, swung it and himself down and uncorked it. It was the most fluid sexy act I have ever witnessed in a bar. After my Sangiovese, rugala and parmesan salad and two pieces of fresh tomato and basil bruschetta. I looked around the room. Even though there were only a handful of tables, many of them were filled with true Europeans. I always found it interesting that even when they go abroad they search for what they have at home. Maybe because they know what they have is right.
I made my way back to the subway.
On the subway ride home I experienced something that one can only experience in New York, the unexpected, the odd, the humorous and humanity. I got on the packed subway at around 10:00pm. And I changed over to the express train that would take me up to Harlem at 14th Street. Every seat was full on this train. Then this gentleman in plain looking golf like shorts, a white tee-shirt, sneakers, sunglasses carrying a base guitar and amp got on. I had never seen him before. He sits downs and says with confidence, karisma and serious cool…this one is for the beautiful Indian lady with the nice smile. He looked at her. No one looks at one another in New York. The first thing I told my PA mom when she came to visit was “Don’t look anybody in the eyes”. She was shocked. This was the complete opposite of what she though civilized people do. Then she realized well “this is new york”. What was more surprising than his candor was that she smiled back and then looked and me and smiled. We all waited in anticipation of what this comedian was going do sing. “Dun dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun dun dun dun dun, I got sunshine, on a cloudy day” (everyone was smiling) “when its cold outside, I got the month of may…this one is for you Indian lady with the pretty hair and smile”. “This next song (he continued) is you the gray haired lady right there. Gray haired lady this is for you”. There was a pause. “I”VE BEEN REALLY TRYING BABY…….COME ON…..LETS GET IT ON….this is for you you sexy gray haired lady”. Pause “This next song is for the Puerto Rican “Wantana meda whinta wantana medaaaaaa wanita wantanameda”. “Now for all the Africans on the Train”….and this went on. For ten stops, half an hour. Every single person on the train was smiling. We were all looking at eachother. For the first time in a long time these New Yorkers were people in public. I took his picture. I wanted to remember this forever. This happiness that this one man caused.
I walked home not feeling tired from my late dinner and show and the girls next store (not to be confused for…but could be confused for…Hugh Heffners girls next door) were up. They were getting ready to out. For the first time in a long time I wanted to go. Clubs are not usually my thing. They generally are a lot of posing, prodding and people from New Jersey trying to impress other people from new jersey by trying to be “new york”. Don’t they know all they have to do is not look people in the eye? But this night I felt like going out. I made my hair big (very easy to do) and slipped on my black dress, a pair of high heels later and I was off. The four girls jumped into the white porsche that was owned by the rapper boyfriend of one of my friends and we headed downtown to a club. We got to a club and stood behind the velvet ropes with all the other beautiful people. Then we noticed something. Something strange even for New York Club life (the underworld as I call it). They were only letting in ugly people with tee-shirts, backpacks, holey jeans and crocs. CROCS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All the beautiful people were left out. I had no idea what was going on. We left and went to another club “Soul”. This haunt was hip hop and that night all the players were out. Oh no not the players that are usually out on the town on a sat night to pick up chicks but actual players. These guys played for the Knicks, the Jets and the Giants. It was till we left the club that I realized the guy at our table that we were hanging out with (note our table…we took it over) plays for the Giants. It explained the weird colors in their décor. As soon as we left the club around 4:30am my friend realized someone took her blackberry. She went haywire, nuts, crazy, started screaming. I felt awful but…..it was a phone, not a person, not a pet, a phone. Phones can be replaced but she felt someone had taken her soul (how I would also feel if my phone were missing). She started freaking out. I calmed her down and as I calmed her down one of the girls next door sneaked off with a player not sure in what sense. I finally got our girl back to the car. She speed off in her porsche and when the police behind pulled up next to her she rolled down the window and yell “What do you do when some girl steals your phone”. And then she drove off. Needless to say at 4:30AM we got pulled over by the NYPD. 3 tickets later, a search of a rappers car, my mind going through all proper search and seizer procedures, the mini therapy session in the front seat and a conversation with T-Mobile we where heading home. I washed my face, looked at the clock, set my alarm and prayed I woke on time, two hours later.
Tuesday night I went home and turned out the lights.
Your girl,
Lucky
We went to a small little European Wine bar called ino. It was smack in the middle of an intersection of about 5 roads that were conveniently under construction. After calling the restaurant from 1 block away I finally made it to the dimly lit haven that sells full heavy glasses of wine and Italian savory treats. I waited at the bar and watched the bartender pour my perfect glass. The glass was half full when the bottle ran out. In no greater time than 4 seconds he slide a stool over with his foot, propped himself up, grabbed a bottle of wine, swung it and himself down and uncorked it. It was the most fluid sexy act I have ever witnessed in a bar. After my Sangiovese, rugala and parmesan salad and two pieces of fresh tomato and basil bruschetta. I looked around the room. Even though there were only a handful of tables, many of them were filled with true Europeans. I always found it interesting that even when they go abroad they search for what they have at home. Maybe because they know what they have is right.
I made my way back to the subway.
On the subway ride home I experienced something that one can only experience in New York, the unexpected, the odd, the humorous and humanity. I got on the packed subway at around 10:00pm. And I changed over to the express train that would take me up to Harlem at 14th Street. Every seat was full on this train. Then this gentleman in plain looking golf like shorts, a white tee-shirt, sneakers, sunglasses carrying a base guitar and amp got on. I had never seen him before. He sits downs and says with confidence, karisma and serious cool…this one is for the beautiful Indian lady with the nice smile. He looked at her. No one looks at one another in New York. The first thing I told my PA mom when she came to visit was “Don’t look anybody in the eyes”. She was shocked. This was the complete opposite of what she though civilized people do. Then she realized well “this is new york”. What was more surprising than his candor was that she smiled back and then looked and me and smiled. We all waited in anticipation of what this comedian was going do sing. “Dun dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun dun dun dun dun, I got sunshine, on a cloudy day” (everyone was smiling) “when its cold outside, I got the month of may…this one is for you Indian lady with the pretty hair and smile”. “This next song (he continued) is you the gray haired lady right there. Gray haired lady this is for you”. There was a pause. “I”VE BEEN REALLY TRYING BABY…….COME ON…..LETS GET IT ON….this is for you you sexy gray haired lady”. Pause “This next song is for the Puerto Rican “Wantana meda whinta wantana medaaaaaa wanita wantanameda”. “Now for all the Africans on the Train”….and this went on. For ten stops, half an hour. Every single person on the train was smiling. We were all looking at eachother. For the first time in a long time these New Yorkers were people in public. I took his picture. I wanted to remember this forever. This happiness that this one man caused.
I walked home not feeling tired from my late dinner and show and the girls next store (not to be confused for…but could be confused for…Hugh Heffners girls next door) were up. They were getting ready to out. For the first time in a long time I wanted to go. Clubs are not usually my thing. They generally are a lot of posing, prodding and people from New Jersey trying to impress other people from new jersey by trying to be “new york”. Don’t they know all they have to do is not look people in the eye? But this night I felt like going out. I made my hair big (very easy to do) and slipped on my black dress, a pair of high heels later and I was off. The four girls jumped into the white porsche that was owned by the rapper boyfriend of one of my friends and we headed downtown to a club. We got to a club and stood behind the velvet ropes with all the other beautiful people. Then we noticed something. Something strange even for New York Club life (the underworld as I call it). They were only letting in ugly people with tee-shirts, backpacks, holey jeans and crocs. CROCS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All the beautiful people were left out. I had no idea what was going on. We left and went to another club “Soul”. This haunt was hip hop and that night all the players were out. Oh no not the players that are usually out on the town on a sat night to pick up chicks but actual players. These guys played for the Knicks, the Jets and the Giants. It was till we left the club that I realized the guy at our table that we were hanging out with (note our table…we took it over) plays for the Giants. It explained the weird colors in their décor. As soon as we left the club around 4:30am my friend realized someone took her blackberry. She went haywire, nuts, crazy, started screaming. I felt awful but…..it was a phone, not a person, not a pet, a phone. Phones can be replaced but she felt someone had taken her soul (how I would also feel if my phone were missing). She started freaking out. I calmed her down and as I calmed her down one of the girls next door sneaked off with a player not sure in what sense. I finally got our girl back to the car. She speed off in her porsche and when the police behind pulled up next to her she rolled down the window and yell “What do you do when some girl steals your phone”. And then she drove off. Needless to say at 4:30AM we got pulled over by the NYPD. 3 tickets later, a search of a rappers car, my mind going through all proper search and seizer procedures, the mini therapy session in the front seat and a conversation with T-Mobile we where heading home. I washed my face, looked at the clock, set my alarm and prayed I woke on time, two hours later.
Tuesday night I went home and turned out the lights.
Your girl,
Lucky
Monday, September 10, 2007
UN-derneath the Glamour
Well just another weekend in New York:
- Gala at the UN.
- Drinks at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (drinking in a museum always a good thing)
- Birthday party
- And Dinner with a good friend.
The Gala and Everything Afta
So to get ready for my gala event on Sat. this gala had to take her very formal black (of course) dress to the tailor. I found one near the day spa I go for maintenance and on some days the works. They tailor was sweet and assured me that my dress straps would be mended by the next day. Relieved that now I could attend the event without fear of causing a international scene. I went home, got in bed and watched law and order. My friend was celebrating her 26th birthday that night. So at about 11:00 I got dressed and headed downtown. After having one of the best mojitos I’ve ever had and salsa dancing with my very happy happy birthday girl I went home. Went to bed and woke up refreshed, at 12:30pm. Whoops. It was still plenty of time to get to my tailor and pick up my gown for the evening. After running errands I came home, took a nice relaxing shower and listened to La Traviata with Pavarotti. Ever since his death (just shy of a week ago) the opera that makes me cry normally has been playing through my mind in a constant stream. I put the dress on. Perfect. I looked stunning. I put on the new Chanel lip gloss that I bought for the event at Saks the day before and I walked out of my brownstone in Harlem, hailed a cab and headed downtown.
Since it was the UN I didn’t feel that I could go UN-escorted. I imported from PA a friend that has been sweet enough to accompany me to by now tons of events. It’s a go thing he likes free dinners and drinks. I was meeting him at a friend of a friends apt. As I was about to pay the driver I reached into my purse and “pop” my strap broke. The brand new strap that the oh so nice tailor replaced broke right there in the car. Nothing was exposed but the cab driver started freaking out. “Oh no miss, oh no”. I calmed him down assured him I would be ok, gave him his fare and a nice tip. Just then I noticed we happened to stop in front of a dry cleaners/Tailors that was open. I hopped out of the car (not to aggressively of course) walked in and approached a man diligently working at sewing machine. “Is there anyway you can help me. I was just in a cab and my strap broke. Is there any way you can fix it”. He looked at me. I was completely put together, not a hair of mine was out of place, in a dress that looked tailored with the execption of one spaghetti strap hanging off my shoulder. Without a word he turned back to his machine, took a needle and some black thread turned back to me and said “don’t move”. I assured him that I wouldn’t move let alone breath and in five minutes and five dollars later I was reinforced and back on the street.
The gala was gorgeous. My date and I got there just before sunset and could see the lights of the city slowly emerge around us from the balcony of the UN. After many drinks, a dinner, speakers and mingling we were out of the UN and on our way home. We decided to stop at a bar that I had wanted to go to. “Top of the Tower” located next door to the UN. We took the elevator up to the 26th floor, the doors open and again my breath was taken away by the scene. There was a grand piano being played by a gentleman in a tuxedo. The keys were creating the great tunes of Gershwin and Irving Berlin. Large open windows that gave a panoramic view of midtown at night were the backdrop to small tables and soft leather couches. After a dirty martini and by no means dry conversation we headed home.
A beautiful evening.
The next day we had brunch at my favorite café in Harlem where the cappuccino tastes like it came from Italy and the staff takes as long as it would to bring it to you from there. I brought my friend back downtown around the corner from my new favorite tailors to his friends house.
After we said goodbye I decided to walk, walk the streets of my city. I walked all the way from the Mid 30’s to the Mid 60’s. I called friends and relived the details of the night before. I found a spot in Central Park at center of an intersection of a few of the paths. I sat down and enjoyed the shade and the nice weather.
After people and pigeon watching I continued my walk north and ended up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. If you can recall it is one of the 7 wonders (according to my new york experts) in New York. After finding out the Impressionist exhibit I wanted to see was closed, and the fashion exhibit under construction I decided to check out the American wing which I hadn’t seen before. It was then I noticed on my map that there was a Modern collection that I hadn’t been to. I saw a name listed, “Bonnard”. Piere Bonnard is my favorite artist. He was a French and post impressionist painter. The first time I saw his art it was like seeing my dreams in paint. I love every piece. He isn’t nearly as popular as Monet, or Picasso and does not have nearly as many pieces but every piece I get the opportunity to see is a treasure. I anxiously made my way to the Modern Art gallery. I walked into the vast room and looked around at the different pieces. I saw it right away. Across the room there where three pieces that had to be his. Like a school girl seeing her latest crush I felt overcome with giddiness. His art makes me happy. “After Morning bath”, I love the titles. All of his pieces are as if you happened to open a door and walk into a room. The Met had 5 of his pieces. There was no way my day could get any better. I walked past the roman sculptures to the elevator and went up to the rooftop garden café. The vast patio looks over Central Park. It is just breathtaking. The weekend thus far had been a vision landscapes. After the annoying couple that took 5 hours or so to order a cookie, bottle of water and an ice cream cone I got my fruit and Pelligrino and sat down. The only seats that were left were snatched up by the couple who cut in line and then created one by taking so long. Then I noticed an older gentleman sitting by himself smoking. I thought he was the same gentleman that I took the elevator up with, who was celebrating his birthday in the Trustees dining room. I asked him if I could sit down. We started talking. I found out he also had a love for both New York and Pennsylvania. He graduated in 1955 from a college in one of my favorite towns, a town I was planning on going to the following weekend. After a long chat I said “Happy Birthday” again and went home. I walked the remaining 20 blocks back to my Upper Upper west side stoop.
I stopped by the grocer near my house. Picked up a few items and went home. My good friend Dre was coming over. I made us a simple chicken dinner and we watched tv.
Between Pavarotti, Gershwin, Dueling Tailors, the United Nations and my friends (old and new) I would say this weekend was not bad. Well really that’s an UN-derstatement.
Cheers,
Lucky
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Retiremonth
When you have a life like this what’s a girl to do??? Simple “Retiremonth”.
When life gets tough Retiremonth
When your out of luck Retiremonth
When you need a nap Retiremonth
And you’ll be on your way
To a bright and beautiful day
So now you might be asking…so what is this Retiremonth??
Well when you leave a job for a crappy job. Your boss tells you you’re stupid. Your coworkers biggest concern is if there is milk for their cereal. And the banshee in the corner is your boss. You quit take a month off and go back to what works. For me that is returning to the new old voice of a very green company that sets the bar pretty high. But not too high…..so you can still sit at it. The month off, in between, that my friends is what I like to call Retiremonth.
So what did I do for my one month hiatus?
Well. I didn’t carry my phone with me most places. Don’t worry it wasn’t turned off. That would mean the endJ
Went to lobersterfest in Maine.
Went to Musikfest aka Beerfest in Bethlehem PA.
Took a lot of naps.
Went to Carlisle had it shut down on me…there was a black out
Went to DC.
Still didn’t get to see the Lincoln Memorial. I like to keep my men waiting.
Laid out by a pool on a rooftop in D.C.
Laid out by a pool at a friends house in PA.
Had champagne on a rooftop in NYC.
Slept in and on:
5 Beds
4 Pull outs/couches
1 Floor
(none of which were my own)
Though this sounds like a lot. It was relaxing because I was able to spend time with those who mean the most to me, my friends and family. So even though I might not have another retiremonth for another quarter century or so….I feel pretty luck that I got to take advantage of one in between chaos and what I like to call coming home.
Your girl,
Lucky
When life gets tough Retiremonth
When your out of luck Retiremonth
When you need a nap Retiremonth
And you’ll be on your way
To a bright and beautiful day
So now you might be asking…so what is this Retiremonth??
Well when you leave a job for a crappy job. Your boss tells you you’re stupid. Your coworkers biggest concern is if there is milk for their cereal. And the banshee in the corner is your boss. You quit take a month off and go back to what works. For me that is returning to the new old voice of a very green company that sets the bar pretty high. But not too high…..so you can still sit at it. The month off, in between, that my friends is what I like to call Retiremonth.
So what did I do for my one month hiatus?
Well. I didn’t carry my phone with me most places. Don’t worry it wasn’t turned off. That would mean the endJ
Went to lobersterfest in Maine.
Went to Musikfest aka Beerfest in Bethlehem PA.
Took a lot of naps.
Went to Carlisle had it shut down on me…there was a black out
Went to DC.
Still didn’t get to see the Lincoln Memorial. I like to keep my men waiting.
Laid out by a pool on a rooftop in D.C.
Laid out by a pool at a friends house in PA.
Had champagne on a rooftop in NYC.
Slept in and on:
5 Beds
4 Pull outs/couches
1 Floor
(none of which were my own)
Though this sounds like a lot. It was relaxing because I was able to spend time with those who mean the most to me, my friends and family. So even though I might not have another retiremonth for another quarter century or so….I feel pretty luck that I got to take advantage of one in between chaos and what I like to call coming home.
Your girl,
Lucky
Friday, July 13, 2007
I Wonder Wonder
At a dinner party that would make any New Yorker jealous (except for the unfortunate few setting next to us) the fabulous four (The Darlings, My gal Friday and myself) decided that New York deserved 7 wonders. This was decided after none of us really knew what the 7 wonders of the world really were. Then we thought there were also natural wonders. And apparently there is search committee to find the modern wonders of the world since no one seems to remember the old ones. So it is with great pride that I announce the 7 wonders of The Marvelous City of New York.
(drum role please)
7 WONDERS OF NEW YORK
STATUE OF LIBERTY
THE SUBWAY
CENTRAL PARK
THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART
THE NEW YORK STOCK EXCHANGE
THE FOOD
THE PEOPLE
There they are. The a list of all A listers of NYC. It took the entire dinner from the first bottles of wine, through the appetizers, and well into the entrée before the list was finalized. There where heated debates, attempted vetos and lots of laughter. The people are definitely my favorite of the 7 wonders of NY and in particular the ones at our table last night.
Cheers,
Lucky
(drum role please)
7 WONDERS OF NEW YORK
STATUE OF LIBERTY
THE SUBWAY
CENTRAL PARK
THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART
THE NEW YORK STOCK EXCHANGE
THE FOOD
THE PEOPLE
There they are. The a list of all A listers of NYC. It took the entire dinner from the first bottles of wine, through the appetizers, and well into the entrée before the list was finalized. There where heated debates, attempted vetos and lots of laughter. The people are definitely my favorite of the 7 wonders of NY and in particular the ones at our table last night.
Cheers,
Lucky
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
My Meny
List of Men I have dated/gone on a date with/excluding all those not permitted to date by their wives
German Med Student
Italian Investment Banker
Current weatherman then high school junior
Current f-up and then high school drop out
Compulsive Liar
American Italian teacher
Librarian
Indian Pilot
Hippie
Sports Photographer
Bosnian
Accountant (was a write off)
Forrest Ranger then Marine
Bouncer
Hedge Fund/Philanthropist
Redneck
List of Men I have fallen in love with
Scottsman
German Med Student
My Best Friend Dean
German Med Student
Italian Investment Banker
Current weatherman then high school junior
Current f-up and then high school drop out
Compulsive Liar
American Italian teacher
Librarian
Indian Pilot
Hippie
Sports Photographer
Bosnian
Accountant (was a write off)
Forrest Ranger then Marine
Bouncer
Hedge Fund/Philanthropist
Redneck
List of Men I have fallen in love with
Scottsman
German Med Student
My Best Friend Dean
Monday, July 9, 2007
Best Weekend Ever
So I really started the weekend on Thursday. My soon to be ex company threw a party. Some of the clients were old pals from my former employer. I invited some of my fabulous girls as back up against the crazies at my office. We all looked gorgeous. After tons of hellos, a few beers, lots of good music and public humiliation from my current boss/fascist dictator I went home. I was the first one in the office the next day and the only one until 11:00am.
Friday. By the end of the day I was able to talk to Mussolini and he informed me that “I was not as smart as he thought I would be but he thought I had potential”. I was almost ready to inform him that I was potentially out of there but I let it slide.
Off to the Soho house to meet one of my old colleagues for a drink/advise/and a little fabulous sun by the pool. She became my new mentor. I informed her of Muss’s depiction of me and our conversation. We came up with a plan, and then I noticed the shoes of the gent next to me. Pink. Hmm I thought. My mentor got up to use the loo and I commented on my neighbor’s footwear.
“Nice Shoes”. I said.
“Thanks, they are Kung Foo shoes”. He said
Now I consider myself somewhat of a shoe guru. But never in my travels amongst Ferrigamo, Choo, Manolo, in an endless world of pumps, sling backs and kitten heels had I ever heard of Kung Foo shoes. I was intrigued.
“What makes them Kung Foo shoes”? I asked.
“They have a flat surface as the sole”. He said with a half grin.
I didn’t really understand. They looked like pink keds attached to a thirtysomething year old man with an eccentric grin.
“These are Kung foo shoes then”. I said confidently.
I pointed to my black wedges.
“They are flat on the bottom you see”?
He grinned.
My mentor returned and introductions were made.
“Fabulous mentor this is Kung Foo Irving”
“Kung Foo Irving this is the most fabulous woman in new york who just agreed to be my mentor”.
Both smiled.
Mentor had to run off. We kissed in the air near our cheeks and she was off. I returned to my Kung Foo friend.
Then there was the call. My twin, on of my best friends from DC was on the phone. She had just arrived in New York and was coming downtown to meet me. Kung Foo Irving had a great idea.
“Why don’t I put your friend on the list”? He suggested.
“Sure”. I replied.
“Twin, Kung Foo Irving..whom you haven’t met yet…my new friend is going to put you on the list. Just tell the cab driver to drop you off at 13th and 9th Ave in front of the Soho house. Tell them you are on the list and come up to the roof”.
This was fabulous. My twin should come to NYC for the weekend and start at the top of one of the coolest clubs in the city.
“I am wearing a tank top, flip flops and jeans is that ok”. She asked.
“You look gorgeous in whatever…..but….if you have heels to change into that would be great, and maybe change your stop”.
“Done”. She said and we hung up the phone.
I thanked my new friend. He was cute.
Not five minutes later my fabulous twin bound up the stairs and across the deck spotted with euros and yuppie new Yorkers.
She looked gorgeous. She was wearing jeans, and black top, and read and tan 1950’s like pair of heels. She looked amazing.
“Twin I would like to introduce you to Irving”.
We all sat around had a beer and then head off to my favorite Italian restaurant. It is one of the only Bolognese restaurants in New York, with home made pasta, great Sangiovese and a wait staff that never changes we were off. Kung foo had been invited but he had a pressing engagement at home. Something about an ex girlfriends dog.
My girl Friday met Twin and I and we had a fantastic meal. Stuffed we took a cab all the way home and crammed into my very full at this point queen bed.
Not a bad way to start the weekend.
Friday had to move to Brooklyn the next day so she went home to pack her belongings.
Brunch.
So Twin and I met up with my somewhat famous artist friend that happened to be doing work at Madame Trousseau’s wax museum in Times Square. He met us for breakfast at a little Brassiere on 53rd that we found out that was open 24 hours a day. He had little French donuts, and red wine. Twin had eggs and a large coffee I had yogurt and granola and one of his donuts along with my big cup of coffee. We walked around town for a little bit, got rid of the artist who had to go do some research at the museum and Twin and I headed downtown to the West Village to hang out with my oh so glamorous, fabulous friend Perry. Perry who is gorgeous, intelligent and lives in the very posh part of town invited us over to lay out on his roof. Unlike the soho house to ascend to the roof deck one had to shimmy up the fire escape. We got our towels, our beer and our glamour and shimmied right up. All of New York was in front of us.
“Let me give my grrlsss the tour”. Perry started.
Twin beamed she already loved him as much as I did.
“There she is the empire state building. She sits right next to Ms. Chrysler building”. Perry often used the feminine instead the simple neutral and boring article “the”.
“And if you look closely”. He continued.
“Look toward those three buildings over dere, the small one on the left”. He stated.
“Dat is where Ms. Nicole Kidman lives”. He smiled.
Twin and I loved it. We ate lunch, laid out and drank really good Belgian beer Perry’s new drink thing. We left the west village drunk, tired, sun kissed and fabulous.
“How else she be”? I ask joo.
We went home and took a nap and woke up late. We got dressed. I dressed Twin in a beautiful black cotton dress that one of my Darling friends designed. We met Friday and Friday’s soon to be ex-room mate with her soon to be fiancé after he broke up with his soon to be ex-wife. Very Very confusing. We went to Martigenti’s a very European fun bar/restaurant in lets call it soho sud. It really is in Little Italy but we will ignore that slight detail since the place was in its own little world anyway.
I realized by the end of dinner that I had left my ATM card in the ATM this AM. Oh no. I had enough cash to pay my bill then I called my bank and put my funds on hold and went to the next bar. Since the soon to be fiancé of Friday’s soon to be ex roomie was from London we took gang to Puck Fair and upscale kind of pub in Soho proper. After a few pints we headed home.
Twin and I woke up, went to my favorite brunch spot in Harlem. I treated my twin and myself to a wonderful brunch. Since the weather had been perfect all weekend we decided to go for a walk in central park. We walked around the conservatory gardens. We joked about the soho house, kung foo shoes, somewhat famous artists and fire escapes.
We were truly lucky. The both of us. I took her to the subway where she made her way back downtown to get a bus and go home.
I had just received a text from Kung Foo Irving.
“Did you and DC have a nice time this weekend?” He asked.
“Best Weekend Ever” was my reply.
Friday. By the end of the day I was able to talk to Mussolini and he informed me that “I was not as smart as he thought I would be but he thought I had potential”. I was almost ready to inform him that I was potentially out of there but I let it slide.
Off to the Soho house to meet one of my old colleagues for a drink/advise/and a little fabulous sun by the pool. She became my new mentor. I informed her of Muss’s depiction of me and our conversation. We came up with a plan, and then I noticed the shoes of the gent next to me. Pink. Hmm I thought. My mentor got up to use the loo and I commented on my neighbor’s footwear.
“Nice Shoes”. I said.
“Thanks, they are Kung Foo shoes”. He said
Now I consider myself somewhat of a shoe guru. But never in my travels amongst Ferrigamo, Choo, Manolo, in an endless world of pumps, sling backs and kitten heels had I ever heard of Kung Foo shoes. I was intrigued.
“What makes them Kung Foo shoes”? I asked.
“They have a flat surface as the sole”. He said with a half grin.
I didn’t really understand. They looked like pink keds attached to a thirtysomething year old man with an eccentric grin.
“These are Kung foo shoes then”. I said confidently.
I pointed to my black wedges.
“They are flat on the bottom you see”?
He grinned.
My mentor returned and introductions were made.
“Fabulous mentor this is Kung Foo Irving”
“Kung Foo Irving this is the most fabulous woman in new york who just agreed to be my mentor”.
Both smiled.
Mentor had to run off. We kissed in the air near our cheeks and she was off. I returned to my Kung Foo friend.
Then there was the call. My twin, on of my best friends from DC was on the phone. She had just arrived in New York and was coming downtown to meet me. Kung Foo Irving had a great idea.
“Why don’t I put your friend on the list”? He suggested.
“Sure”. I replied.
“Twin, Kung Foo Irving..whom you haven’t met yet…my new friend is going to put you on the list. Just tell the cab driver to drop you off at 13th and 9th Ave in front of the Soho house. Tell them you are on the list and come up to the roof”.
This was fabulous. My twin should come to NYC for the weekend and start at the top of one of the coolest clubs in the city.
“I am wearing a tank top, flip flops and jeans is that ok”. She asked.
“You look gorgeous in whatever…..but….if you have heels to change into that would be great, and maybe change your stop”.
“Done”. She said and we hung up the phone.
I thanked my new friend. He was cute.
Not five minutes later my fabulous twin bound up the stairs and across the deck spotted with euros and yuppie new Yorkers.
She looked gorgeous. She was wearing jeans, and black top, and read and tan 1950’s like pair of heels. She looked amazing.
“Twin I would like to introduce you to Irving”.
We all sat around had a beer and then head off to my favorite Italian restaurant. It is one of the only Bolognese restaurants in New York, with home made pasta, great Sangiovese and a wait staff that never changes we were off. Kung foo had been invited but he had a pressing engagement at home. Something about an ex girlfriends dog.
My girl Friday met Twin and I and we had a fantastic meal. Stuffed we took a cab all the way home and crammed into my very full at this point queen bed.
Not a bad way to start the weekend.
Friday had to move to Brooklyn the next day so she went home to pack her belongings.
Brunch.
So Twin and I met up with my somewhat famous artist friend that happened to be doing work at Madame Trousseau’s wax museum in Times Square. He met us for breakfast at a little Brassiere on 53rd that we found out that was open 24 hours a day. He had little French donuts, and red wine. Twin had eggs and a large coffee I had yogurt and granola and one of his donuts along with my big cup of coffee. We walked around town for a little bit, got rid of the artist who had to go do some research at the museum and Twin and I headed downtown to the West Village to hang out with my oh so glamorous, fabulous friend Perry. Perry who is gorgeous, intelligent and lives in the very posh part of town invited us over to lay out on his roof. Unlike the soho house to ascend to the roof deck one had to shimmy up the fire escape. We got our towels, our beer and our glamour and shimmied right up. All of New York was in front of us.
“Let me give my grrlsss the tour”. Perry started.
Twin beamed she already loved him as much as I did.
“There she is the empire state building. She sits right next to Ms. Chrysler building”. Perry often used the feminine instead the simple neutral and boring article “the”.
“And if you look closely”. He continued.
“Look toward those three buildings over dere, the small one on the left”. He stated.
“Dat is where Ms. Nicole Kidman lives”. He smiled.
Twin and I loved it. We ate lunch, laid out and drank really good Belgian beer Perry’s new drink thing. We left the west village drunk, tired, sun kissed and fabulous.
“How else she be”? I ask joo.
We went home and took a nap and woke up late. We got dressed. I dressed Twin in a beautiful black cotton dress that one of my Darling friends designed. We met Friday and Friday’s soon to be ex-room mate with her soon to be fiancé after he broke up with his soon to be ex-wife. Very Very confusing. We went to Martigenti’s a very European fun bar/restaurant in lets call it soho sud. It really is in Little Italy but we will ignore that slight detail since the place was in its own little world anyway.
I realized by the end of dinner that I had left my ATM card in the ATM this AM. Oh no. I had enough cash to pay my bill then I called my bank and put my funds on hold and went to the next bar. Since the soon to be fiancé of Friday’s soon to be ex roomie was from London we took gang to Puck Fair and upscale kind of pub in Soho proper. After a few pints we headed home.
Twin and I woke up, went to my favorite brunch spot in Harlem. I treated my twin and myself to a wonderful brunch. Since the weather had been perfect all weekend we decided to go for a walk in central park. We walked around the conservatory gardens. We joked about the soho house, kung foo shoes, somewhat famous artists and fire escapes.
We were truly lucky. The both of us. I took her to the subway where she made her way back downtown to get a bus and go home.
I had just received a text from Kung Foo Irving.
“Did you and DC have a nice time this weekend?” He asked.
“Best Weekend Ever” was my reply.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
The Weekend
Friday I left work and was able to have a few cocktails with my new co-workers. We sat outside in a typical New York sidewalk bar. I had an aproicot martini and we all laughed and joked about the weekend. A friend of one my the guys stopped by to say hi. “You might remember him from the Dockers Ads, he is a Dockers model”. I said “Oh, Nice Pants”. He smiled. He didn’t get the joke. Typical model. I hopped in a cab and went downtown to the gourmet garage (a little food store that has a pretty good selection of cooking staples). I picked up some mozzarella, basil, tomatoes, brie, strawberries, string beans and decided on pork chops for the main course. I was cooking dinner that evening for my fabulous friend B. B. is gorgeous, intelligent and is a truly kind individual with a great apartment in the West Village. Apparently though he was not much of a cook because his kitchen lacked pepper and olive oil and his oven I do not believe had ever been turned on. No matter. I cut the brie and strawberries, he opened the wine and we talked. We laughed through three long courses separated by glasses of wine and double bock beer. I always love the walk back to the subway from B.’s house. The cobble stone streets glisten in the dark. The little boutiques windows are always list, shining on purses, shoes and dresses looking for their match. I went home and fell into a deep sleep in my soft white comforters and plush pillows.
Sat. I woke up somewhat uneasily. Threw on a dress and walked out the door. Ended up running to the train station, getting on the wrong platform and seeing my train pull away. “NOOOOOOOOOOOO”! I screamed, cursing the metro north. I went back down to the station, readjusted, got a cup of ice coffee and sat on a bench and called my best friend and read the NYtimes. I got on the train and arrived at my Dads an hour later than expected. It was a good thing I didn’t tell him I was coming. We went to the diner and then rented a movie that I slept for half of.
I returned to the city, Dad walked me to the station. When I make my train I love train stations and the act of waving as a train slowly pulls away. Unfortunately that day I left my handkerchief at home.
I got home and changed for dinner with three of my favorite people in the whole world. My girl Friday and two of my most darling best friends. We will call them the Darlings….like in Peter Pan only imagine two of the most fashionable, and fun gay guys that you have ever met. We met at my favorite restaurant in the west village that reminds me home. The food is from central Italy, Bologna in fact. The wine is from central Italy and the owner is imported as well. I met my tres chic trio on the corner. I am always meeting people on corners. No comments please. This time was due to the simple fact that I gave the Darlings the wrong address. One we all were together we enjoyed a fantastic sampling of cheese, grilled vegetables, pasta, chicken, scallops and of course wine. We walked back to the subway highly content with the culinary experience we just had. Kisses and the boys were off. How lucky I am to have them. They keep me grounded, fabulous, positive and most importantly happy.
Friday and I got some ice cream and decided to walk around Washington Square Park. Sat. night are interesting nights in the city. They are no longer going out nights in New York. They are meant to be spent at home, or at a casual dinner with friends. The reason being is that Sat. nights the city is flooded with outsiders using the city as an excuse to let go of all their inhibitions. We watched.
We decided to grab a drink. I called another good friend, Fergus. Everybody knows Fergus. He was at a bar downtown. We went down and sat had a few more drinks and laughed watched as the parade of people went by.
Friday and I left, grabbed some greasy burgers and fries and got on the subway going all the way north, home. One subway we plugged ourselves into my ipod and jammed out to U2, Fall out boy and other random, high pumping music. Everyone else was asleep on the train.
We crashed. Put on the TV and fell asleep.
Sunday I did not want to wake up. I finally got out of bed. I decided to go for a walk and get some exercise. It took about three hours for me to motivate myself out of the house. I listened to U2, fall out boy and other random high pumping music to work out to. I came back, showered and went downtown.
I got a frozen pomegranate margarita across the street before heading over to Lincoln center. I got my ticket from Friday, who works at the ballet. I sat 11 rows back in the center and watched some of the most talented ballet dancers in the world perform. I am awestruck every time. I sat next to a little girl and her mother who obviously were regulars at the ballet.
“What a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon”. She said.
I couldn’t agree more.
Friday and I left, and grabbed some coffee down the street.
“I could not get up this morning” She said.
“Yeah me either’.
We sat and drank our coffee out of our coffee bowls.
Kiss Kiss goodbye and I went up and she went east. I stopped at the Gourmet Garage uptown. A store I discovered while dating an upper west side piece di gourmet garbage. But hey, there is something good from every experience. This one included pasta, fresh hummas and fresh fruit. I got back to my house. Rearranged my furniture, and had a mini dinner party with my good friend Dre and my neighbor party girl who stopped to have a mini dinner with us. The pasta made up for the chaos and clutter of my studio apartment in duress. By the end of the evening, I had had a wonderful meal, clean dishes and a new set up in my pad.
Dinner, a pub, conversation, ice cream, long walks, the ballet, coffee coffee coffee, wine wine wine home made pasta in a newly rearranged home and there you have the ingredients of a fabulous little weekend. Compliments of my incredible friends, a few Italians and lovely city of New York.
Cheers,
Lucky
Sat. I woke up somewhat uneasily. Threw on a dress and walked out the door. Ended up running to the train station, getting on the wrong platform and seeing my train pull away. “NOOOOOOOOOOOO”! I screamed, cursing the metro north. I went back down to the station, readjusted, got a cup of ice coffee and sat on a bench and called my best friend and read the NYtimes. I got on the train and arrived at my Dads an hour later than expected. It was a good thing I didn’t tell him I was coming. We went to the diner and then rented a movie that I slept for half of.
I returned to the city, Dad walked me to the station. When I make my train I love train stations and the act of waving as a train slowly pulls away. Unfortunately that day I left my handkerchief at home.
I got home and changed for dinner with three of my favorite people in the whole world. My girl Friday and two of my most darling best friends. We will call them the Darlings….like in Peter Pan only imagine two of the most fashionable, and fun gay guys that you have ever met. We met at my favorite restaurant in the west village that reminds me home. The food is from central Italy, Bologna in fact. The wine is from central Italy and the owner is imported as well. I met my tres chic trio on the corner. I am always meeting people on corners. No comments please. This time was due to the simple fact that I gave the Darlings the wrong address. One we all were together we enjoyed a fantastic sampling of cheese, grilled vegetables, pasta, chicken, scallops and of course wine. We walked back to the subway highly content with the culinary experience we just had. Kisses and the boys were off. How lucky I am to have them. They keep me grounded, fabulous, positive and most importantly happy.
Friday and I got some ice cream and decided to walk around Washington Square Park. Sat. night are interesting nights in the city. They are no longer going out nights in New York. They are meant to be spent at home, or at a casual dinner with friends. The reason being is that Sat. nights the city is flooded with outsiders using the city as an excuse to let go of all their inhibitions. We watched.
We decided to grab a drink. I called another good friend, Fergus. Everybody knows Fergus. He was at a bar downtown. We went down and sat had a few more drinks and laughed watched as the parade of people went by.
Friday and I left, grabbed some greasy burgers and fries and got on the subway going all the way north, home. One subway we plugged ourselves into my ipod and jammed out to U2, Fall out boy and other random, high pumping music. Everyone else was asleep on the train.
We crashed. Put on the TV and fell asleep.
Sunday I did not want to wake up. I finally got out of bed. I decided to go for a walk and get some exercise. It took about three hours for me to motivate myself out of the house. I listened to U2, fall out boy and other random high pumping music to work out to. I came back, showered and went downtown.
I got a frozen pomegranate margarita across the street before heading over to Lincoln center. I got my ticket from Friday, who works at the ballet. I sat 11 rows back in the center and watched some of the most talented ballet dancers in the world perform. I am awestruck every time. I sat next to a little girl and her mother who obviously were regulars at the ballet.
“What a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon”. She said.
I couldn’t agree more.
Friday and I left, and grabbed some coffee down the street.
“I could not get up this morning” She said.
“Yeah me either’.
We sat and drank our coffee out of our coffee bowls.
Kiss Kiss goodbye and I went up and she went east. I stopped at the Gourmet Garage uptown. A store I discovered while dating an upper west side piece di gourmet garbage. But hey, there is something good from every experience. This one included pasta, fresh hummas and fresh fruit. I got back to my house. Rearranged my furniture, and had a mini dinner party with my good friend Dre and my neighbor party girl who stopped to have a mini dinner with us. The pasta made up for the chaos and clutter of my studio apartment in duress. By the end of the evening, I had had a wonderful meal, clean dishes and a new set up in my pad.
Dinner, a pub, conversation, ice cream, long walks, the ballet, coffee coffee coffee, wine wine wine home made pasta in a newly rearranged home and there you have the ingredients of a fabulous little weekend. Compliments of my incredible friends, a few Italians and lovely city of New York.
Cheers,
Lucky
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Surprise, It’s Memorial Day!
So it was a nice little weekend. I had dinner Friday night with my girl Friday and her family. Then we sat at Lincoln center, by the fountain. We watched the stars as we waited for one our friends to pick her up. We were convinced that one of the stars was moving in circles. No it was not a plane and it was not wine induced…we think! We went and got Starbucks and then our friend arrived.
I got up early on Sat and rushed down to Port Authority bus terminal. Terminal is an appropriate term for this station. Dismal would also be accepted. I got on a bus and headed to Bethlehem PA to help put together a surprise birthday for a good friend. 40 balloons later, well 38, 36 (a couple revolted and flew away) the party was ready to go and his sister/my adopted sis and I were proud of the décor we accomplished with just a few balloons and happy birthday sign. The beautiful pool, and finely manicured lawn and gardens helped. He was surprised. He was really surprised that all of his friends came from all over to spend his birthday weekend with him. Little did he know none of us would have wanted to spend our Memorial Day weekend any other way. 16 attendants, 36 balloons, 168 beers, one grill, one pool….Priceless. I did notice one thing. The older we get the more we revert back to infancy. Although I am not sure this crew ever left.
We had a big brunch at a Scottish tea room. I had scones with Devonshire Cream and Lemon curd! YUM. And then I left to visit family. I got lost, surprise, surprise and arrived to a homemade apple pie. Could a girl get any luckier? My best friends parents/my adopted family and I had a wonderful dinner. I slept like a baby. Memorial Day, American Flags were hung high outside the wood frames of the beautiful farm house owned by two former teachers. I realized the reason why I most likely had “God Bless America” ringing through my head the day before. We grilled, had martinis and sat on the patio while old war movies echoed in the back ground. They are normally there (a war movie fanatic is one of the residents), but this time it seemed to make sense. Cary Grant was hot even in black and white. The uniform doesn’t hurt! I thought. There was a little shopping too. If the New Yorkers I rolled with only knew…that my fashions came straight from the runways….well the aisles of Pennsylvania. They would be shocked. I saw a few dresses in the store that were designed by a friend of mine. To me it was like spotting a celebrity across the room (if I cared or noticed celebrities). I was thrilled that someone “I” knew helped create this beautiful item. It was the greatest finding I have had in a while what a surprise.
I stayed Monday night and took a 5:30am bus back to New York. It amazes me that in under 2 hours one can leave farm land, unlit roads, and strangers who say hello and look one another in the eye and arrive to a city of millions of strangers who are somehow related within the chaos and beauty bordered by steel buildings and streets that never dim. I got home, dropped off my bags, slipped on one of my new dresses, and headed back downtown. I was the first one to arrive in the office. I made my coffee and started my day.
This Memorial Day was both surprising, simple and oh so sweet.
Happy Memorial Day.
I got up early on Sat and rushed down to Port Authority bus terminal. Terminal is an appropriate term for this station. Dismal would also be accepted. I got on a bus and headed to Bethlehem PA to help put together a surprise birthday for a good friend. 40 balloons later, well 38, 36 (a couple revolted and flew away) the party was ready to go and his sister/my adopted sis and I were proud of the décor we accomplished with just a few balloons and happy birthday sign. The beautiful pool, and finely manicured lawn and gardens helped. He was surprised. He was really surprised that all of his friends came from all over to spend his birthday weekend with him. Little did he know none of us would have wanted to spend our Memorial Day weekend any other way. 16 attendants, 36 balloons, 168 beers, one grill, one pool….Priceless. I did notice one thing. The older we get the more we revert back to infancy. Although I am not sure this crew ever left.
We had a big brunch at a Scottish tea room. I had scones with Devonshire Cream and Lemon curd! YUM. And then I left to visit family. I got lost, surprise, surprise and arrived to a homemade apple pie. Could a girl get any luckier? My best friends parents/my adopted family and I had a wonderful dinner. I slept like a baby. Memorial Day, American Flags were hung high outside the wood frames of the beautiful farm house owned by two former teachers. I realized the reason why I most likely had “God Bless America” ringing through my head the day before. We grilled, had martinis and sat on the patio while old war movies echoed in the back ground. They are normally there (a war movie fanatic is one of the residents), but this time it seemed to make sense. Cary Grant was hot even in black and white. The uniform doesn’t hurt! I thought. There was a little shopping too. If the New Yorkers I rolled with only knew…that my fashions came straight from the runways….well the aisles of Pennsylvania. They would be shocked. I saw a few dresses in the store that were designed by a friend of mine. To me it was like spotting a celebrity across the room (if I cared or noticed celebrities). I was thrilled that someone “I” knew helped create this beautiful item. It was the greatest finding I have had in a while what a surprise.
I stayed Monday night and took a 5:30am bus back to New York. It amazes me that in under 2 hours one can leave farm land, unlit roads, and strangers who say hello and look one another in the eye and arrive to a city of millions of strangers who are somehow related within the chaos and beauty bordered by steel buildings and streets that never dim. I got home, dropped off my bags, slipped on one of my new dresses, and headed back downtown. I was the first one to arrive in the office. I made my coffee and started my day.
This Memorial Day was both surprising, simple and oh so sweet.
Happy Memorial Day.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
The Daze of the Week
Wednesday night. Just a Wednesday. So I got up. Picked a black dress, red and white polka dot shirt, and beige and red shoes. Made breakfast (whole grain English muffin). Went to work. Got coffee. Went back to work. Emailed friends. Got a nice phone call from a friend. Organized the office. Learned some new programs. Filled a prescription at the drug store. Went to the park. Had a sandwich and soda. Came back to work. Suppose to meet a friend for dinner. They cancelled. Decided to go to a movie after work. Saw a French/American film playing in the lower east side. Left the office. Got a butterfinger tasty de-lit. Walked downtown. It was cool, sunny and breezy. Perfect day in the city. Got on the subway. Found my way to the theater. Took off my sunglasses. Sat in the middle of the theater. Watched a movie that made me cry at times. Because my life has been more beautiful than even the carefully calculated stories and images set in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Remembered with whom I spent my last days in Paris. Remembered the smell. Remembered the love. Left the movie. Tossed my hair. Decided between French onion soup at Bathazaar or Tapas at a place called “Oliva” down the street. Chose “Oliva” because I liked the name. My girl Friday called. She was at Balthazaar with her parents. No surprise we think the same. I asked if she had the onion soup. She didn’t. She met me. I could hardly hear her over the sound of the live band. We drank house wine and I ate tapas for dinner. We got on the subway. We went uptown to the launch party of Hampton Magazine's new season. We got to The Pink Elephant. We were on the list, they couldn’t find us, it didn’t matter, it never seems to matter, they smiled and opened the velvet ropes and we walked in. Friday was wearing red. We gave money to an African Water project they were raising money for in the hall. We felt good (due to wine or charity I am not sure). We got black wrist bands with white writing on it. We walked into the crowd of designer dresses worn my 20somethings, trust fund children with no smiles. They always look annoyed or angry. Why not be happy with everything you have? We walked onto the dance floor. I tripped and fell onto a model wannabe. Ooops. I laughed. There was a step down that was hidden, had nothing to do with the wine, I think. I ordered two glasses of Champagne that turned out to be Dom Perignon. It tasted sweet, crisp, easy. We danced some more. Sipped our champagne. Looked around the room. Made fun of models and then went home. “Only us” I thought. Took a little nap on the subway. Woke up on my block. Went to bed. Woke up. Picked out a black shirt, pair of capri’s, and Friday’s tan belt that I stole months ago. Put on my tan and blue heels (a present from a friend) my friend called as I was putting them on. Made breakfast and thought “Not bad for a Wednesday”. I shook my best friend. “Friday time to get up”. "It’s Thursday".
Your girl,
Lucky
Your girl,
Lucky
Movin on Up
I just read in the most horrible book, which will remain unnamed…,a quote. This is the solitary passage of writing that is worth taking the effort/time to read of the entire work. I will paraphrase. It asks:
“Why do people move? The answer is simple as well as universal. They move in search of a better life”.
I recently moved. Not from my home (surprising since I packed up my belongings and moved 6 times with in the past two years). I have lived in my mothers house, resided in an old farm house, lived in a renovated loft, a friends apartment, my fathers apartment, with 2 ½ crazy roommates and currently reside in a beautiful Harlem studio. But that is a whole other story.
I recently moved offices. I went from a larger, stuffy, mahogany and forest green colored office spotted with ecru colored cubicles. Even the color “ecru” does not hide the retched nature of people boxes. I think who ever invented cubicles should in a very “Twilight Zone” like manner be forces to live the remainder of his days (it was a man…we all know it was) in a city of cubicles. Back to the office, it was 3 floors, had a garage and was located in the mall capital of a New York City Suburb. Donald Trump had moved in while my sanity moved out. Everything that is wrong with America can be found in this town. Image Image Image surrounded by a demographic of both Walmart shoppers and Neiman Marcus hounds. And yes I did myself give into Walmart more than I would care to admit but I was always aware of the impact and influence of it’s presence.
I became the center of this somewhat dysfunctional large family of lawyers, HR personal (I don’t think the word person should even be used remotely relating to HR), cleaning folks and a president. I found the people I was drawn to (few and far between but ranged from the interns to the president).
So where did I go?
I moved to an office in midtown Manhattan. My commute changed from 1 hour to 20 minutes. I now work for a company of 15 people in an office with no cubicles. Systems are different. I get in, in the morning. I make a jumbo cup of coffee. Talk to the people in the office. Do a circle around the loft and smile.
First Day. Shocker! Only way to put it. I was scared. I was use to the metro north, to taking the train and sitting with lots of space around me and the company of one of my best friends. Then bam I was taking the very loud, very crowded subway standing up. I tried to figure out how to get the wires of my new ipod not tangled in the handles of my purse or in the way of my Starbucks. All this occurred while speeding underneath the concrete city. I got out of the subway 20 minutes later and there I was. “Toto I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore”. No Suburbia only city. Concrete blocks lining my way like soldiers on either end of my path to my office. I had walked these streets hundreds of times, I knew the area well, why did it feel different? It was during the day and this was my new home.
Was I dressed ok? I am a pretty confident gal. I feel comfortable at pubs and the opera as much as eating alone in a restaurant or sitting in a park. But there was a different air. Daylight….not a weekend…..daylight in New York.
I walked into my office. Wood floors (trouble with my heels) walls being knocked down. People were just laying about, talking having coffee. Work Hard Play Hard oozed through the pipelines and tin ceilings of my new home.
I was scared. I might have found a girl even more obsessed with herself than I. I sat down at my new desk and the computer played a montage of model posses of the previous face of the company. At least I make sure I have friends in my pictures so it doesn’t look like I am as narcissistic as I truly am. She just put it out there. Also no instructions, no friends, starting at square one…it was scary.
My new boss is amazing. He is able to stay positive, energetic, personable and organized. He can fix everything from account management issues to broken chairs. He rocks.
Dogs roam free around my new office. I get 25 phone calls oppose to 425. I still am in the center. I still like finding out what is going on in all aspects. I still am me just in new locale.
Lucky Girl. I am a lucky girl. I left a place where I adored quite a few spectacular people and moved to a city with the potential to house a few more.
I don’t really miss anything from my old life of one week ago. I am settling in with my new self. My New York Casu-gal self. OK the Casual doesn’t really agree with me but I make it work.
The new family is as dysfunctional as the old one. But I wouldn’t feel at home if they weren’t.
People take a plunge, jump and try new things in hopes of a better life. My life has been pretty good thus far. We’ll see where it goes from here. Either way I am “Moving on up” or in this case down..town.
Your Girl,
Lucky
“Why do people move? The answer is simple as well as universal. They move in search of a better life”.
I recently moved. Not from my home (surprising since I packed up my belongings and moved 6 times with in the past two years). I have lived in my mothers house, resided in an old farm house, lived in a renovated loft, a friends apartment, my fathers apartment, with 2 ½ crazy roommates and currently reside in a beautiful Harlem studio. But that is a whole other story.
I recently moved offices. I went from a larger, stuffy, mahogany and forest green colored office spotted with ecru colored cubicles. Even the color “ecru” does not hide the retched nature of people boxes. I think who ever invented cubicles should in a very “Twilight Zone” like manner be forces to live the remainder of his days (it was a man…we all know it was) in a city of cubicles. Back to the office, it was 3 floors, had a garage and was located in the mall capital of a New York City Suburb. Donald Trump had moved in while my sanity moved out. Everything that is wrong with America can be found in this town. Image Image Image surrounded by a demographic of both Walmart shoppers and Neiman Marcus hounds. And yes I did myself give into Walmart more than I would care to admit but I was always aware of the impact and influence of it’s presence.
I became the center of this somewhat dysfunctional large family of lawyers, HR personal (I don’t think the word person should even be used remotely relating to HR), cleaning folks and a president. I found the people I was drawn to (few and far between but ranged from the interns to the president).
So where did I go?
I moved to an office in midtown Manhattan. My commute changed from 1 hour to 20 minutes. I now work for a company of 15 people in an office with no cubicles. Systems are different. I get in, in the morning. I make a jumbo cup of coffee. Talk to the people in the office. Do a circle around the loft and smile.
First Day. Shocker! Only way to put it. I was scared. I was use to the metro north, to taking the train and sitting with lots of space around me and the company of one of my best friends. Then bam I was taking the very loud, very crowded subway standing up. I tried to figure out how to get the wires of my new ipod not tangled in the handles of my purse or in the way of my Starbucks. All this occurred while speeding underneath the concrete city. I got out of the subway 20 minutes later and there I was. “Toto I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore”. No Suburbia only city. Concrete blocks lining my way like soldiers on either end of my path to my office. I had walked these streets hundreds of times, I knew the area well, why did it feel different? It was during the day and this was my new home.
Was I dressed ok? I am a pretty confident gal. I feel comfortable at pubs and the opera as much as eating alone in a restaurant or sitting in a park. But there was a different air. Daylight….not a weekend…..daylight in New York.
I walked into my office. Wood floors (trouble with my heels) walls being knocked down. People were just laying about, talking having coffee. Work Hard Play Hard oozed through the pipelines and tin ceilings of my new home.
I was scared. I might have found a girl even more obsessed with herself than I. I sat down at my new desk and the computer played a montage of model posses of the previous face of the company. At least I make sure I have friends in my pictures so it doesn’t look like I am as narcissistic as I truly am. She just put it out there. Also no instructions, no friends, starting at square one…it was scary.
My new boss is amazing. He is able to stay positive, energetic, personable and organized. He can fix everything from account management issues to broken chairs. He rocks.
Dogs roam free around my new office. I get 25 phone calls oppose to 425. I still am in the center. I still like finding out what is going on in all aspects. I still am me just in new locale.
Lucky Girl. I am a lucky girl. I left a place where I adored quite a few spectacular people and moved to a city with the potential to house a few more.
I don’t really miss anything from my old life of one week ago. I am settling in with my new self. My New York Casu-gal self. OK the Casual doesn’t really agree with me but I make it work.
The new family is as dysfunctional as the old one. But I wouldn’t feel at home if they weren’t.
People take a plunge, jump and try new things in hopes of a better life. My life has been pretty good thus far. We’ll see where it goes from here. Either way I am “Moving on up” or in this case down..town.
Your Girl,
Lucky
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Why I heart NY!
Well New York is the city of my birth. New York is all I have ever known. When you are from New York you are truly lucky but in some ways at a disadvantage. What????? How is that possible???? New York is one of the greatest cities in the world. Ah ha, that is just it. When you are born inside, outside, or around New York it is all you know. It is par, the norm, and average. New Yorkers are always looking for another New York. Chicago, it’s like a cleaner friendlier New York. Boston is like a smaller colder New York with a horrible baseball team. LA, it’s the anti-New York. Paris, is New York with more history, old stuff and funny accents. New York is always the starting point and everything is just related back. It maybe be wrong, it may be jaded but that is New York.
Another reason I love New York is Carlisle. What’s Carlisle? Hmmm how do I answer this question? I am convinced Carlisle is the center of the universe. I have proof of this. One time in Amsterdam, while traveling with Dean, CNN International did a news report live from Carlisle, PA. The presented the report with a map depicting the world, with a red dot, an arrow and a bubble that said Carlisle, PA. Whether or not you know it you are only 2 degrees away from someone who knows or is somehow related to this small town, in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania.
I moved to Carlisle from outside New York when I was thirteen. I had no idea that people lived this way. I didn’t understand why strangers talked to each other and said hello (totally uncivilized). Don’t they know they aren’t supposed to look anyone in the eye…let alone wave???? I didn’t understand that the next town was literally the next town over (meaning 10 miles south, north, east or west) and not the town directly next to you. I didn’t understand why we were the only somewhat mixed breed in the town and why I couldn’t get a good bagel anywhere. I learned to love this area. I loved knowing everyone in town (most of the time). I made amazing friends and I learned to appreciate saying Thank you and hello to strangers (poor strangers haven’t had a chance to get away since). It also made me appreciate everything New York has to offer. Everything from Independent movies, to museums, to incredible restaurants influenced from every corner of the world. I craved that life again, so I moved back.
Another reason I love this city is simply, my girl Friday. Friday is my best friend here in New York. She is the “heart” of “I heart New York”. Either wise it would just be me and New York. Friday is the coolest girl you would ever meet. She is game for anything. The reason New York is the best is because Friday and I take it by storm. She has been here since I moved back to the city that never sleeps, almost two years ago. In that time, the two of us have been: to almost every kind of sporting event possible, jazz concerts, Irish pubs, rugby games, cigar bars, the ballet, plays, diners, 5 star restaurants, random hotel rooms, and the secret rooms in the hottest clubs in the city. By secret rooms, I mean any area that had a velvet like curtain to it…..including the dish room…which was VIP because it was a secret. That is me…not Friday…she is way cooler than that and just laughed. We have drunk more combinations of mix drinks than should be legal and have quite possibly done some things that were, in fact, not legal. But we have done them all together. I have a ridiculous life. I know that. But the only reason I am able to do the incredible things here and take advantage of every inch of this small island is because I have someone who takes advantage of it with me. And for that I am truly lucky.
You can see Friday and I at any of our usually haunts, meaning everywhere from Harlem to the Hudson Hotel. I have always said that a city is who you see it with. Paris wouldn’t have been Paris the first time around with my 20something guy friends attempting to speak French and only getting out “Je suis la jeune fille” meaning I am a little girl. It wouldn’t have been Paris the second time had Levi not had to rip my pants so I could go to the bathroom in our first class train car. Spain wouldn’t have been as flavorful had we not stayed with friends from there who took us to the best paella place in town. New York would be nothing with out my gal Friday. I highly suggest you find a partner in crime and take on whatever town you in. Watch out Batman and Robin you got some HOT competition in this small town we call Gotham.
Your girl,
Lucky
Another reason I love New York is Carlisle. What’s Carlisle? Hmmm how do I answer this question? I am convinced Carlisle is the center of the universe. I have proof of this. One time in Amsterdam, while traveling with Dean, CNN International did a news report live from Carlisle, PA. The presented the report with a map depicting the world, with a red dot, an arrow and a bubble that said Carlisle, PA. Whether or not you know it you are only 2 degrees away from someone who knows or is somehow related to this small town, in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania.
I moved to Carlisle from outside New York when I was thirteen. I had no idea that people lived this way. I didn’t understand why strangers talked to each other and said hello (totally uncivilized). Don’t they know they aren’t supposed to look anyone in the eye…let alone wave???? I didn’t understand that the next town was literally the next town over (meaning 10 miles south, north, east or west) and not the town directly next to you. I didn’t understand why we were the only somewhat mixed breed in the town and why I couldn’t get a good bagel anywhere. I learned to love this area. I loved knowing everyone in town (most of the time). I made amazing friends and I learned to appreciate saying Thank you and hello to strangers (poor strangers haven’t had a chance to get away since). It also made me appreciate everything New York has to offer. Everything from Independent movies, to museums, to incredible restaurants influenced from every corner of the world. I craved that life again, so I moved back.
Another reason I love this city is simply, my girl Friday. Friday is my best friend here in New York. She is the “heart” of “I heart New York”. Either wise it would just be me and New York. Friday is the coolest girl you would ever meet. She is game for anything. The reason New York is the best is because Friday and I take it by storm. She has been here since I moved back to the city that never sleeps, almost two years ago. In that time, the two of us have been: to almost every kind of sporting event possible, jazz concerts, Irish pubs, rugby games, cigar bars, the ballet, plays, diners, 5 star restaurants, random hotel rooms, and the secret rooms in the hottest clubs in the city. By secret rooms, I mean any area that had a velvet like curtain to it…..including the dish room…which was VIP because it was a secret. That is me…not Friday…she is way cooler than that and just laughed. We have drunk more combinations of mix drinks than should be legal and have quite possibly done some things that were, in fact, not legal. But we have done them all together. I have a ridiculous life. I know that. But the only reason I am able to do the incredible things here and take advantage of every inch of this small island is because I have someone who takes advantage of it with me. And for that I am truly lucky.
You can see Friday and I at any of our usually haunts, meaning everywhere from Harlem to the Hudson Hotel. I have always said that a city is who you see it with. Paris wouldn’t have been Paris the first time around with my 20something guy friends attempting to speak French and only getting out “Je suis la jeune fille” meaning I am a little girl. It wouldn’t have been Paris the second time had Levi not had to rip my pants so I could go to the bathroom in our first class train car. Spain wouldn’t have been as flavorful had we not stayed with friends from there who took us to the best paella place in town. New York would be nothing with out my gal Friday. I highly suggest you find a partner in crime and take on whatever town you in. Watch out Batman and Robin you got some HOT competition in this small town we call Gotham.
Your girl,
Lucky
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Write or Wrong?
Why do I write? The answer is simple. I write because I have to. Even though my brain is sometimes in a state of paralysis because the words in my head are not recognizable by spell check, in general, words let me fly.
As a little girl I would write poetry. The romantic flowing language captivated me even then. I think I was drawn to poetry also because there were no rules. I don’t like rules. I don’t tend to follow them, in life and in writing. It gave me the freedom to not have to worry about grammar.
I think in words that are constantly narrorating my life. Some people might say these are simply voices in my head. Those people may be right but I think everything in life is a story, a joke or an experience. I write the emotion, the flavors, and the sounds with or without a pen.
I also love the physical act of writing. All of my poetry is written in a simple black binder on classic unlined white paper. I love writing cards, letters and notes on a heavy stock paper with a fountain tip pen. I pretend I am Audrey Hepburn writing love letters in long fluid motions that will travel across oceans to me pressed against the lips of a lost love. A written word is powerful, simplistic and quite handsome. Words are beautiful. It is because of my love of people and communication that I took as many foreign languages as I could. I found I loved words in all languages. French words are all sweet, even when they mean not so nice things. In German every word is strong, honorable and on time. Russian words are powerful, and flow together like strong rapids in a fast strong river. English. Oh what to say about English. Well first there is proper English spoken in England by beautiful men with bad teeth wearing pants that come in close to their ankles and make reading the comics sound regal. And then there is what Americans speak. The English language apart from being the most confusing, the most unphonetical, and with the most exceptions to rules (you think that would make me like it) aside from all that I find, when American speak it, it sounds less like a language and more like an engine grinding. Then there is Italian. Italian is my home, my heart, combined with comfort and beauty into one song.
I once heard a quote from a famous actress. When asked when she decided that she wanted to be an actor she said “I never had a choice”. That is true of me and writing. Even though it took about fifteen attempts on the correct spelling of narrator…which I still think I got wrong and is often the source of constant frustration at trying to figure out commas, prepositions and definitions, there is nothing more I love than words. Words are the sunlight of my life. They make the people in my life, along with my experiences, ideas, hopes and dreams glow.
Words are just write for me:-) You don’t even want to get me started on puns!
Your girl,
Lucky
As a little girl I would write poetry. The romantic flowing language captivated me even then. I think I was drawn to poetry also because there were no rules. I don’t like rules. I don’t tend to follow them, in life and in writing. It gave me the freedom to not have to worry about grammar.
I think in words that are constantly narrorating my life. Some people might say these are simply voices in my head. Those people may be right but I think everything in life is a story, a joke or an experience. I write the emotion, the flavors, and the sounds with or without a pen.
I also love the physical act of writing. All of my poetry is written in a simple black binder on classic unlined white paper. I love writing cards, letters and notes on a heavy stock paper with a fountain tip pen. I pretend I am Audrey Hepburn writing love letters in long fluid motions that will travel across oceans to me pressed against the lips of a lost love. A written word is powerful, simplistic and quite handsome. Words are beautiful. It is because of my love of people and communication that I took as many foreign languages as I could. I found I loved words in all languages. French words are all sweet, even when they mean not so nice things. In German every word is strong, honorable and on time. Russian words are powerful, and flow together like strong rapids in a fast strong river. English. Oh what to say about English. Well first there is proper English spoken in England by beautiful men with bad teeth wearing pants that come in close to their ankles and make reading the comics sound regal. And then there is what Americans speak. The English language apart from being the most confusing, the most unphonetical, and with the most exceptions to rules (you think that would make me like it) aside from all that I find, when American speak it, it sounds less like a language and more like an engine grinding. Then there is Italian. Italian is my home, my heart, combined with comfort and beauty into one song.
I once heard a quote from a famous actress. When asked when she decided that she wanted to be an actor she said “I never had a choice”. That is true of me and writing. Even though it took about fifteen attempts on the correct spelling of narrator…which I still think I got wrong and is often the source of constant frustration at trying to figure out commas, prepositions and definitions, there is nothing more I love than words. Words are the sunlight of my life. They make the people in my life, along with my experiences, ideas, hopes and dreams glow.
Words are just write for me:-) You don’t even want to get me started on puns!
Your girl,
Lucky
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
The Billion Dollar Question
Well nothing really exciting happened over the weekend. I went to PA to go to my ex-boyfriend, Eric #2’s wedding. Hung out with my best friends from home, lost my wallet had it returned to me by two lesbians, got to see some of my fabulous sorority sisters during Delta Nu Alumni weekend and visit my Aunt and Uncle’s new house. All in all a pretty relaxing weekend.
So I will tell a little story on why I am here today. I am here and not living in a Palace or a penthouse in London because I ignored a Billionaire's affection 3 years ago.
On quite memorable trip to London, Paris, Dusseldorf, Kohl and Amsterdam I met “the billionaire” who will be referred to as Bill. I was traveling with my other half/power couple/rock star best friend whom we will refer to as “Dean” and our friend Levi. I was visiting a friend from high school who was currently engaged to a Brazilian artist she met in college whose family now lived in London. We got to stay 3 blocks away from Harrods in an area called “Knightsbridge”. When the customs people asked me where I was going to be staying I promptly replied “Three blocks away from Harrods”. For those of you don’t know Harrods is the Saks of London. Then again if you know Saks you most likely will know Harrods. If you don’t know you are probably a straight male and for you sake all you have know is it is a nice store. After an odd inquisitive look toward this New York gal with a Yankee accent…the customs rep said “You know they are having their semi annual sale Miss”. My reply “Oh, yes I am aware”.
One of our first nights Dean and Levi went out on the town and my high school friend Amelia and I went to a bar to meet her friends in Piccadilly Circus the Times Square of London. –As you can gather now New York is my primary form of reference--. We ended up meeting two of her friends. Both were sweet. Both were from the United Arab Emirates. The only reference I have to this small country is from Model UN, which I never participated in…but everyone I have ever known who did Model UN ended up representing the UAE. Anyway it was apparent that on of the gentlemen (and they were gentlemen) was interested in me. I was a little overloaded with men at the time because I had just made out with a very attractive Indian gentleman (he was not a gentleman) and was currently talking to the most gorgeous Australian. He had blonde hair and blue blue eyes. Blue eyes are my weakness. I asked him for a light as he walked by. The Aussie stopped went back to his table, got a light, light my cigarette and told me I looked like I owned the place. He was gorgeous and I enjoyed talking to him…but I returned to my friend and the UAE. I asked Bill what he would like to drink. He gave me an inquisitive look (apparently these were in fashion in London because I got them everywhere). “Scotch” he said. I ordered two glasses of scotch on the rocks and gave him one. I don’t think he had ever had a girl buy him a drink before. We talked danced and really enjoyed each others company. Amelia and her other friend were off somewhere. He was tall, had kind eyes and a sweet smile. I wanted to kiss him but didn’t because I thought it would be somewhat slutty to have kissed three boys from three different continents in one night. Two was acceptable but three was crossing the line. We danced and then he talked about throwing me a party when I returned from Paris. In the cab ride home (yes in on of those very cliché British taxis) Amelia told me she had never seen “Bill” so into a girl. That he had dated quite a few but she saw a spark in his eyes. “He couldn’t stop talking about you”. She said. I was glowing. I had seen it in him too. It has started to rain and the cobble stone streets of London were slick and wet. Then she dropped the bomb. “You know he is a billionaire Lucky”. She said. I stopped in my tracks. “Billionaire” she continued. “He lives in a million dollar flat all by himself and wears track suits to the finest restaurants in London because he is well known”. As soon as the words left her mouth I felt uncomfortable. I liked him but money confuses things…was I liking him more now, now that I knew? And then it hit me like a ton of bricks “Manolo Blahnik”. It rang through my head like cherub angels singing the Hallelujah chorus. I could have any pair of shoes that I wanted. If I married him I could have any pair of shoes for the rest of my life. Most people think houses, jets, boats and while those are nice I only thought shoes. I thought about calling him but something held me back. I liked him but now I didn’t know why. He tried calling me we weren’t able to connect. From time to time I wonder. When I am in a haze of memos, phone calls and cubicles I think, what if? What if I had gone out with him? What if it had turned into something? What if I married billionaire? I guess we'll never know. Now whenever I go on dates I say to myself "You girl are worth a billion" and I smile. Well, because it is true even if I am in Franco Sarto (bought on sale) and not Manolos (for you straight guys they are both shoes, nice shoes).
Your girl,
Lucky
So I will tell a little story on why I am here today. I am here and not living in a Palace or a penthouse in London because I ignored a Billionaire's affection 3 years ago.
On quite memorable trip to London, Paris, Dusseldorf, Kohl and Amsterdam I met “the billionaire” who will be referred to as Bill. I was traveling with my other half/power couple/rock star best friend whom we will refer to as “Dean” and our friend Levi. I was visiting a friend from high school who was currently engaged to a Brazilian artist she met in college whose family now lived in London. We got to stay 3 blocks away from Harrods in an area called “Knightsbridge”. When the customs people asked me where I was going to be staying I promptly replied “Three blocks away from Harrods”. For those of you don’t know Harrods is the Saks of London. Then again if you know Saks you most likely will know Harrods. If you don’t know you are probably a straight male and for you sake all you have know is it is a nice store. After an odd inquisitive look toward this New York gal with a Yankee accent…the customs rep said “You know they are having their semi annual sale Miss”. My reply “Oh, yes I am aware”.
One of our first nights Dean and Levi went out on the town and my high school friend Amelia and I went to a bar to meet her friends in Piccadilly Circus the Times Square of London. –As you can gather now New York is my primary form of reference--. We ended up meeting two of her friends. Both were sweet. Both were from the United Arab Emirates. The only reference I have to this small country is from Model UN, which I never participated in…but everyone I have ever known who did Model UN ended up representing the UAE. Anyway it was apparent that on of the gentlemen (and they were gentlemen) was interested in me. I was a little overloaded with men at the time because I had just made out with a very attractive Indian gentleman (he was not a gentleman) and was currently talking to the most gorgeous Australian. He had blonde hair and blue blue eyes. Blue eyes are my weakness. I asked him for a light as he walked by. The Aussie stopped went back to his table, got a light, light my cigarette and told me I looked like I owned the place. He was gorgeous and I enjoyed talking to him…but I returned to my friend and the UAE. I asked Bill what he would like to drink. He gave me an inquisitive look (apparently these were in fashion in London because I got them everywhere). “Scotch” he said. I ordered two glasses of scotch on the rocks and gave him one. I don’t think he had ever had a girl buy him a drink before. We talked danced and really enjoyed each others company. Amelia and her other friend were off somewhere. He was tall, had kind eyes and a sweet smile. I wanted to kiss him but didn’t because I thought it would be somewhat slutty to have kissed three boys from three different continents in one night. Two was acceptable but three was crossing the line. We danced and then he talked about throwing me a party when I returned from Paris. In the cab ride home (yes in on of those very cliché British taxis) Amelia told me she had never seen “Bill” so into a girl. That he had dated quite a few but she saw a spark in his eyes. “He couldn’t stop talking about you”. She said. I was glowing. I had seen it in him too. It has started to rain and the cobble stone streets of London were slick and wet. Then she dropped the bomb. “You know he is a billionaire Lucky”. She said. I stopped in my tracks. “Billionaire” she continued. “He lives in a million dollar flat all by himself and wears track suits to the finest restaurants in London because he is well known”. As soon as the words left her mouth I felt uncomfortable. I liked him but money confuses things…was I liking him more now, now that I knew? And then it hit me like a ton of bricks “Manolo Blahnik”. It rang through my head like cherub angels singing the Hallelujah chorus. I could have any pair of shoes that I wanted. If I married him I could have any pair of shoes for the rest of my life. Most people think houses, jets, boats and while those are nice I only thought shoes. I thought about calling him but something held me back. I liked him but now I didn’t know why. He tried calling me we weren’t able to connect. From time to time I wonder. When I am in a haze of memos, phone calls and cubicles I think, what if? What if I had gone out with him? What if it had turned into something? What if I married billionaire? I guess we'll never know. Now whenever I go on dates I say to myself "You girl are worth a billion" and I smile. Well, because it is true even if I am in Franco Sarto (bought on sale) and not Manolos (for you straight guys they are both shoes, nice shoes).
Your girl,
Lucky
Friday, April 13, 2007
A Prelude to a Blog
“Amore mi mosse che mi fa parlare”. This is a quote from Dante. Which Translates to “It is love that moves me speak”. If I were alive in Dante’s days he might have had a different take. Dramma mi mosse che mi fa parlare. It is drama that moves me to speak. Experiences, in life,, people, places and things., these are the true loves of my life. I wake up everyday to experience this world with the people I love. OK maybe Dante was right. But in my life an unusually high amount of chaos occurs daily.
In all honesty I think I actually might be the luckiest girl in the world. Actually there is no doubt in my mind. I have the greatest friends in the world. I traveled all over the globe. I meet interesting, compassionate, passionate, and intelligent people, along with the idiots everyday.
I once said that being the best at something was not necessarily good. That there was something in being mediocre…or good at lots of little things in different areas. I think that statement is now crap. But I do think that my varied interests and experiences have proven to create other interesting situations and amazing happenings as a result.
I have one mantra: Have fun. If it is not fun, I’m out. Yes this has resulted in me leaving everything from jobs to friendships but that’s just me.
Basic Facts:
I’m 25
Brown Hair and Deep Brown Eyes
I grew up in New York City, Suburbia, Pennsylvania and Italy.
I currently live in Harlem. New York not Holland
My mother is a musician, my father is a neurotic Mexican and my brother is saving the world.
I do speak a few languages, enough to get smiles in lots of countries, restaurants and trouble from time to time.
(Excuse any spelling or grammar errors in any of these languages. My brain doesn’t love words even though my soul does).
.
Everything else is circumstantial or you will gather through my daily adventures.
A few things I love: Red wine, Paris, Italy, Shoes, Martinis, and most importantly people.
I hope you enjoy my daily adventures because I most certainly do!
Please note: The names have been changed to protect the innocent as well as the guilty.
There is no doubt in my mind that you will see that I am the luckiest girl in the world by the end of this. I would like to recap just a few things I got to do in the year of 2006, this past year. Think of it as a prelude to a blog.
In no particular order:
Bought my first pair of designer Italian shoes, Prada.
Went to the Opening Gala at the NYC Ballet
Saw my New York Knicks play courtside – And got approached by some shady diamond dealers.
Went to my first movie premiere and sat 5 rows behind the cast,
Slept in Penn Station
Missed approximately 30 trains about 15 buses but a surprising low number of taxis--I sprint for those. (In three in heels, of course)!
Visited Venice, Bologna, Verona, Chicago, Miami, Atlantic City (for Easter), Pottstown, Carlisle and Bethlehem PA, Washington D.C., Camden and Portland Maine.
Changed a flight to watch my team Azzurri win the world cup
Hung out at the US OPEN
Hung out with James Blake (unrelated)
Started reading the Wall Street Journal
Moved into Harlem and got my very first Studio Apt
Went to a Mini Versace show and ended up picking up a somewhat Famous Artist and his Financial Advisor..
Went to a party on the roof of the SOHO House.
Picked up 12 Scotsman in the subway.
Started smoking cigars fairly regularly
Ended up at a fisherman’s pub in some small town In Maine. Oh Damariscotta.
Had an affair to remember.
Having traveled a bit I have used all of the following as forms of transpiration: A yacht, a train, a greyhound bus, a golf cart, a Chinatown bus, the subway,, the metro, town cars, taxi cabs, hummer limo, uhaul, motorino and numerous planes.. Note: none of these require any physical activity on my part—except for running for them.
Have dated one or more of the following:
Teacher,
Sleazebag,
Hedge fund something or other
27 year olds
40 year olds
Executive – what you don’t want to know
Californian (never again)
Upper West Side Sleazebag – You thought the Executive was bad
A member of a highly successful chicken producing family (yes he looked like a chicken).
I have been confused as:
A A mistress/call girl
B. A girl who likes girls
C. Every ethnicity under the sun
Just when you think life can’t get any crazier it does. I always knew I had a purpose in life. It took me a long time to discover that it was purely for “entertainment value”.
Enjoy!
Your girl,
Lucky.
In all honesty I think I actually might be the luckiest girl in the world. Actually there is no doubt in my mind. I have the greatest friends in the world. I traveled all over the globe. I meet interesting, compassionate, passionate, and intelligent people, along with the idiots everyday.
I once said that being the best at something was not necessarily good. That there was something in being mediocre…or good at lots of little things in different areas. I think that statement is now crap. But I do think that my varied interests and experiences have proven to create other interesting situations and amazing happenings as a result.
I have one mantra: Have fun. If it is not fun, I’m out. Yes this has resulted in me leaving everything from jobs to friendships but that’s just me.
Basic Facts:
I’m 25
Brown Hair and Deep Brown Eyes
I grew up in New York City, Suburbia, Pennsylvania and Italy.
I currently live in Harlem. New York not Holland
My mother is a musician, my father is a neurotic Mexican and my brother is saving the world.
I do speak a few languages, enough to get smiles in lots of countries, restaurants and trouble from time to time.
(Excuse any spelling or grammar errors in any of these languages. My brain doesn’t love words even though my soul does).
.
Everything else is circumstantial or you will gather through my daily adventures.
A few things I love: Red wine, Paris, Italy, Shoes, Martinis, and most importantly people.
I hope you enjoy my daily adventures because I most certainly do!
Please note: The names have been changed to protect the innocent as well as the guilty.
There is no doubt in my mind that you will see that I am the luckiest girl in the world by the end of this. I would like to recap just a few things I got to do in the year of 2006, this past year. Think of it as a prelude to a blog.
In no particular order:
Bought my first pair of designer Italian shoes, Prada.
Went to the Opening Gala at the NYC Ballet
Saw my New York Knicks play courtside – And got approached by some shady diamond dealers.
Went to my first movie premiere and sat 5 rows behind the cast,
Slept in Penn Station
Missed approximately 30 trains about 15 buses but a surprising low number of taxis--I sprint for those. (In three in heels, of course)!
Visited Venice, Bologna, Verona, Chicago, Miami, Atlantic City (for Easter), Pottstown, Carlisle and Bethlehem PA, Washington D.C., Camden and Portland Maine.
Changed a flight to watch my team Azzurri win the world cup
Hung out at the US OPEN
Hung out with James Blake (unrelated)
Started reading the Wall Street Journal
Moved into Harlem and got my very first Studio Apt
Went to a Mini Versace show and ended up picking up a somewhat Famous Artist and his Financial Advisor..
Went to a party on the roof of the SOHO House.
Picked up 12 Scotsman in the subway.
Started smoking cigars fairly regularly
Ended up at a fisherman’s pub in some small town In Maine. Oh Damariscotta.
Had an affair to remember.
Having traveled a bit I have used all of the following as forms of transpiration: A yacht, a train, a greyhound bus, a golf cart, a Chinatown bus, the subway,, the metro, town cars, taxi cabs, hummer limo, uhaul, motorino and numerous planes.. Note: none of these require any physical activity on my part—except for running for them.
Have dated one or more of the following:
Teacher,
Sleazebag,
Hedge fund something or other
27 year olds
40 year olds
Executive – what you don’t want to know
Californian (never again)
Upper West Side Sleazebag – You thought the Executive was bad
A member of a highly successful chicken producing family (yes he looked like a chicken).
I have been confused as:
A A mistress/call girl
B. A girl who likes girls
C. Every ethnicity under the sun
Just when you think life can’t get any crazier it does. I always knew I had a purpose in life. It took me a long time to discover that it was purely for “entertainment value”.
Enjoy!
Your girl,
Lucky.
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