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.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
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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