Saturday, May 31, 2008

Update: Last Thursday Night's Event!

It was brought to my attention that I mistakenly made no mention of graffiti and urban lifestyle pub Bombin' Magazine's ( presence at the event on Thursday night at The Upstairs. It was totally my bad, especially because they made the night SO much more ghetto fabulous. Plus, they provided the only person who danced that whole night; a chick who totally shook it like a Polaroid picture, or even like a packet of Splenda.

Check out one of the photos of her doin' her thang (courtesy of Bombin'); there's me and W sitting on the couch in the background trying to act very cool.

If you've been in my bedroom (take a number, boys) you know what a huge fan of street art I am - my bed is flanked by two large pieces of graffiti on canvas that I got from a couple of reallly talented artists on the street in Soho. I'm going to also be writing about them in the future, so stay tuned for that.

I'll leave you with a quick flick from Bombin' TV that showcases their Writer's Strike Event.

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SATC really not so FB

Just got back from a matinee showing in the Village of Sex and the City (if that's any indication of how poor we are - $6 movies, hook it up!), and despite the fact that I had to shush the hormonal Spanish women shrieking in the row behind us several times, I must admit that the flick was enjoyable.The SATC Movie shows our old friends finally as grownups (it took, what - 50 years?). Some of the old broads have kids, some have husbands, and all have overpriced shoes, stinking wit, and pleasant drinking problems. I don't know what all those cynical critics were griping about - the movie held true to SATC form and even went beyond by actually inserting emotion into the plot line. Perhaps that was the qualm - for years women have used SATC as an escape from the burdens of reality, into a world where shopping and lunching is an everyday occurrence, good sex is always just around the corner, and money issues never enter the equation. At least, that's been my excuse to watch - a reverie about a life of minimal work, fabulous parties, tiny waists (no matter how many brunches or brews), and consequent-less trysts (genital whaaats?).

Besides the fact that Sarah Jessica has a disturbing penchant for wearing birds and other creatures on her head on and off the screen, the wardrobe was impressive. It doesn't take much for us peon civilians to get excited and squeal in delight at any shot of a sparkly Manolo, or a Chanel dress, even though we'd probably never look as good in them. Ladies, take it from me, though the way to a man's heart may be through his stomach, muffin tops are never on that menu, even if they're wrapped in designer duds.

So what did I learn from this movie? The kid's pack of popcorn is only $5.95 and it comes with a small soda and a small candy; boozing exorbitantly is the very best way to solve any problem; and most importantly, no matter how much a man shits on you, you should always take him back if you're over the age of 40 - you got slim pickins' after that.

Crap, I gotta go sign up for some dating sites and work on my eating disorder.

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Friday, May 30, 2008

You Asked What Lucy and I Are Doing Tonight?

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City of New York Sponsors Girls' Ride Home

So this party last night was at a bar called The Upstairs. It was upstairs. When we first got there, things were a bit whack - the door guy analyzed my I.D. like it was Tolstoy. I got a little impatient and started dictating what was on it, like birth date, etc., and he told me to simma down and that he was just doing his job. He said, "I'm speaking English, right?" and I said, "Well I don't really know for sure, you could be speaking another language, because sometimes I dream in other languages and this could be a dream." And he said, "Get upstairs," and I said, "Peace out with your crease out."

Above is a hot pic of Lucy and I making some painfully forced faces, with my boobs attacking her boobs. My boobs won.

Once the bottle service got poppin', the night advanced in its awesomeness by at least 200%.

At $800 a pop, The Gay Goose was a'flowin (I call it that because there were about 2 straight guys there, and even they were questionable. You love me W!), and we kinda would just go up to somebody's table and help ourselves like a bunch of assholes. Hoorah!

Christian Siriano (Project Runway champ) was there with his photog bf; see snap below for an action shot of our conversation - clearly the camera guy didn't know when to press the button. And who is that random dude in the background who appears to be licking my head?

After Lucy and I left the party at around 2ish, we brought a dream to fruition. You see, every time we are on our way home from something, we always muse over what a money-saver it would be if we did something mildly obnoxious/illegal so that the cops would drive us back to Brooklyn. Well, Grey Goose bedamned, we approached some hot uniformed men who just happened to be around the corner from the club, (who shall remain nameless, and I won't reveal which uniform it was - could it be a fireman? an ambulance? you will never know!) and coerced them into giving us a ride. They dropped us off at Union Square and we hopped on the subway from there, laughing maniacally. Thank you, city of New York!

Once on the subway, Lucy and I were serenaded by a Spanish guy with no teeth. Here he is singing an amalgamation of Stairway to Heaven and something that sounded a lot like William Hung's version of "She Bangs."

Another plus, my manicure held up, even though the Asian lady laughed when I picked out the bright raspberry Essy color "Your nails so short, it will look like little candies on your fingers!" Listen, lady, I don't pay you to talk.

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Thursday, May 29, 2008

Lucy's Mom Sends Her Helpful Gifts

As you may or may not know, the roommate and bestie (yeah, I said bestie....rhymes with "molestie") is going through a recent breakup. Here, you will find Lucy reading one of the gifts that her Mom (who, by the way, is awesome) sent her from Cape Cod. Please note: this is the second time her mother has sent her Codependent No More.

Today's Affirmation (courtesy of Joan): Today I will accept powerlessness.

Does this mean I can finally be a bottom? Huzzah!

Holy crap. McDonald's coupons just fell out the self-help books. What a mind-fuck!! Thank you Amazon, for promoting the eating of my emotions.

PS: Lucy wants me to mention that, yes, she is on the market for a hot, tattooed boy with preferably a 20/80 ratio of issues vs. skillz.
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Tonight's Planz: Like a Vergenza?

To make up for the fact that I can no longer use my uterus (because of the earlier subway turnstile incident), I am going to celebrate not having to. The Pleasure Chest is hosting this big ass launch party for a new product by premiere toy-maker Vergenza - the toy is called the MK.1 and it's like some strange metal contraption that looks like one of those twisty lollipops you get at a carnival. Or a taser. If it IS in fact a taser sex-toy, I guess they would be appealing to a selective clientele.

Anyway, if you want to join the festivities tonight in Soho there's supposed to be an interesting crowd and a shitload of bottles going around. Hit me up in the comments if you want the address and deets.
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Good Mornin', Good MORnin'!

Thank you, subway turnstile, for hitting me in the uterus today. And, for the Mexican construction workers who said I had a nice booty; you're welcome.
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Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Ramblin' On

As soon as I peeled off the Spanx like seaweed from a maki roll, and threw on some PJ's, the first thing I wanted to do this evening was sit down at this beacon of light (new MacBook Pro) and blog about my day. My Mom raised a good question this evening - am I going to really ever write about myself? Wasn't that the point of this blog in the first place?Is the whole process of writing about oneself just self-serving and narcissistic? If so, then, okay. I'll accept it. Wayne's World segue back to reality. Doodelee doo doodelee doo dooodeloo doo.

I just realized how many items in our kitchen have the pure function of assisting bowel movements. Let's see...there's Gnu Flavor&Fiber bars (they're a tasty treat, but if you have more than one a day, you best be wearing your Depends); Yogi "Smooth Move" Tea; Yogi "Stomach Ease" Tea; Kashi Oatmeal (not purely for pooping, but it does help move things along, right?). Ok, come to think of it, there really aren't that many things...but way more than the average. Am I right??? Am I right??

Now that I've successfully grossed out several of my readers by resorting to toilet humor, I must take my leave. I've gots me a long day tomorrow at the salon. Plus, I'm clearly rambling and overtired. I'll probably wake up tomorrow and delete this post because it's so incoherent.

Before I go.... I also want to mention how overjoyed I am that YOU are reading this blog - you're most likely a friend of mine and are reading this to support me; and for that, I am so, SO grateful and happy. Insert smiley face here.

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Glenn Close + French Bulldog = Infinite Happiness

Two obvious reasons why I had to post this photo I took at the event tonight: Glenn Close and French Bulldog. Named Stella. In a sweater. I had a horribly unattractive snapshot of Glenn blinking and smiling awkwardly, and I was thiiiiiissssss close to posting it. Until I realized I'm not a heartless biatch. It took some soul-searching, but I did conclude that I will never, ever use this blog for that type of thing. Please, if you want that crap, go pick up some US Weekly drivel (or email me privately and I'll send to you for a small fee). Kiddinnnnnggggg.

Anyway, the event was fun, and the food even surpassed my mini-spinach-quiche-dreams - they served cheese puffs filled with some ricotta mixture (among other non-vegetarian stuff that I scoffed at) and lots of champagne.

But no Bernadette Peters! Who, by the way, my Mom reprimanded me for making fun of earlier. People, Bernadette Peters is an extremely talented woman. Please do not take my cruel words seriously. In fact, I'm guessing she was a no-show tonight because of my distasteful mockery of her hair - and for that, Bernadette, I am sorry. In all seriousness though, I really have nothing against Ms. Peters and think she kicks ass onstage.

In other news, 2 people offered me their seats on the subway today, and I'm hoping to Beelzebub it wasn't because they thought I was pregnant. Worst. Thing. Ever.

For more dogs I'm obsessed with, check out this schweet blog:
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What Would Mariah Do if asked to throw the first pitch at a baseball game? Wear 8-inch heels, of course! We must all follow Mariah's example.

Thank you for the photo, Perez darling!
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Tonight's Planz: Meet Glenn Close and Bernadette Peters

I'm going to this event tonight for New York Animal Care and Control at some big Doctor's townhouse on the Upper East Side. Oh, you wanted to know what I'm wearing, girlfriend? Black dress, red pumps. Intern with camera (she's fabulous. hi, darling!). Apparently this will be "an evening of food and drink and jazz," which I'm never opposed to. I hope they have those little spinach quiches and/or something wrapped in lettuce.

I'd pee myself to meet Glenn Close, who I hope will actually be there and didn't just lend her name to the event. In all seriousness, I think she's a phenomenal woman - plus, I need to grab a picture of her to post up here. Keep your fingers crossed.

As for Bernadette Peters, my only memory of her is as a flailing drunky ho in the musical Annie, circa like my elementary school years. I imagine her to be the type to have one-too-many flutes of champagne and start dancing on the baby grand, her huge, wiry hair attacking passerby like Doctor Octopus or that Venus fly-trap thing from Little Shop of Horrors. Again, fingers crossed.

God, I hope Bernadette Peters doesn't read this.

Will have photos up by tonight!!!
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America's Greatest Bling: Wendy D-D-D-Diamond

Um, yeah, sorry for the lameass blog day yesterday, I was "indisposed" for a good 12 hours (i.e. working).

And I can't believe that I didn't mention this before but it's a freakin' awesome riot: my boss at the magazine, the inimitable Wendy Diamond, is going to be on a new reality show called Greatest American Dog on CBS. Holy crap. I can't wait to see these people's dreams shattered when they're told that their dog is a moron. I'm hoping to at least see a few good sobbing sesh's from middle-America's finest.

The pic on the right is the official judge's panel - my boss is the hot one, obvs - you think I'd work somewhere where my overseer was whack?

Just in case you're super interested, here's the official press release from Ceebs (shortened - I cut out the stuff about the other judges, oops):

May 20, 2008

Judges Wendy Diamond (and her dog, Lucky) Allan Reznik and Victoria Stilwell will determine the GREATEST AMERICAN DOG on CBS

Distinguished canine critics Wendy Diamond, Allan Reznik and Victoria Stilwell are the three judges who will decide which is the GREATEST AMERICAN DOG when the new reality-competition series premieres Thursday, July 10 (8:00-9:00 PM, ET/PT) on the CBS Television Network.

Twelve extraordinary teams of dogs and owners from across the nation will compete for the title of GREATEST AMERICAN DOG. Hosted by zoologist/television personality Jarod Miller, owners and their pets — from "pageant dogs" to those simply trained at home — will live together and compete against each other in challenges that put the owners' ability to train their dogs to the test. Each week, the judges will eliminate one dog and their owner. The last remaining team will walk away with a $250,000 cash prize and the title of GREATEST AMERICAN DOG.

Wendy Diamond is the Chief Pet Officer, Editor-In-Chief and founder of the animal lifestyle magazine and website, Animal Fair, dedicated to fairness to animals and responsible breeding. Diamond and her rescue dog, Lucky, are frequent pet lifestyle contributors to the CBS' THE EARLY SHOW, "The Today Show," "The View," "Fox News," "CNN" and "Good Morning, America," among many others. She has been featured in numerous publications including Forbes, Time, People, The New Yorker and Vogue. Diamond is the author of two books, How to Understand Men Through Their Dogs and How to Understand Women Through Their Cats, and is currently working on her next book, How to Train your Boss to Roll Over. Diamond is the executive producer and host of the television special Paws for Style, and the co-producer and host of Lucky Travels on Animal Planet. She is also finishing her "Docu-Comedy," In Search of Puppy Love, featuring cameos by Warren Beatty, Paula Abdul and Hugh Hefner, among many more. In addition to her contributions in the pet world, Diamond is also a cause-related entrepreneur whose two best-selling cookbooks, A Musical Feast and An All-Star Feast, have helped raise thousands of dollars for homeless people and children. She and her dog, Lucky, are currently the Chairperson and Chair Dog of the Katrina Pet Memorial Fund, and continue to honor their Mantra of helping the underdog anyway they can.
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Monday, May 26, 2008

News Update: Ivanka Trump is not a Beotch.

Thought I'd share this photo that I took of Ivanka Trump at Milk Bone's 100th Anniversary Event in Times Square last week. Though seemingly a very random event, it was actually pretty cute - among other attractions, they had this gigantic dog house made of Milk Bones right on a traffic island. I felt like Gretel, taunted by mouth-watering, chemically-fortified treats. Delicious biscuits!

Also note: this should be the last time I go to Times Square EVER. After a day excursion to what I have dubbed God's well-lit toilet of foreigners, I gently jab the closest sharp object (usually cuticle clippers) into my eyes and then scour myself with bleach-soaked Brillo pads for a good half hour.

Nevertheless, Ivanka was surprisingly sociable, and her dress was so fetch - check out the navy-inspired action. 
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Sunday, May 25, 2008

Worldworldworld! Premierepremierepremiere!

Hey, imaginary people who read my blog!

The function of this endeavor: to document my time in New York City while I pursue my dream to be a writer/journalist, and also to help lay out my thoughts to inspire me to write some fiction. Good times, as Jerri Blank says - and I promise, promise, promise it will be. Usually.

Most of my life consists of spending time in the office of the magazine where I freelance as an editorial assistant, and working as a receptionist at a fantastic salon to supplement my income. The magazine focuses on pet lifestyle, animal fairness, charities, and incorporates a ton of celebrity animal-lover interviews. I've had the chance to celebrate with several animal-centric organizations and am amazed at how much is being done to support this cause in NYC alone.

I apologize in advance for any name-dropping, which will, of course, occur - though it was a previous complaint about my ONE blog that I ever did last year to gush about a fashion show I worked at Lacoste.

Yeah, okay, I rub elbows with celebs, but not in any glamorous way. The extent to the "rubbing of elbows" is literally rubbing elbows - and the frequent attempts to interview them on red carpets of major charity or industry events (ha·rass /həˈræs, ˈhærəs/ 1. to disturb persistently; torment, as with troubles or cares; bother continually; pester; persecute).

I hope you will read on as I continue to work my ass off to make it in the "big city" (free clichés for a limited time only) as a writer - the same status that hundreds of thousands of better-equipped twenty-somethings are fighting me for.
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