-The poor guy who thought I was winking/flirting with him this morning. Sorry, dude, it's 5am and my contact got folded up in my eye. The only thing I'm trying to proposition is a bagel. Plus, you're wearing a Looney Tunes shirt with the Tazmanian Devil on it, and I've always been more of a Marvin girl.
-LaGuardia Airport, who decided that blasting Phil Collins at the buttcrack of dawn was exactly what we needed to get this day off to the right start.
-Nikki Reed, for reminding me that Us Magazine is wrong. Stars are not just like us. Because I definitely did not look as good as she did this morning at the airport (Exhibit A: cream cheese in my hair from aforementioned bagel).
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Sunday, November 16, 2014
I'm Lovin It: Things I'm Digging This Week V. 9
Bonjour! Bienvenue! I just noticed that I'm getting a big spike in readers from France, so dear Frenchmen, I have no clue what's led you here, but welcome! Stay awhile and make yourself comfortable.
Back to business. When I was younger, my aunt had a dog named Tara. Tara would sometimes break into her dog food stash and eat and eat...and eat and eat and eat. Then, completely engorged and full, she'd crawl under my aunt's bed and cry to herself, completely having a pity party. Today, fresh off the heels of two massive meals with folks I love, I kinda wanna do the same. If I could figure out how to fit under my bed and cry, I totally would but for now, I'll have to settle for groaning away, looking up at my ceiling. There's gotta be a word for this. I feel like that girl in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who they have to roll away. All of that to say, I'm a little distracted (and honestly, a little drunk right now) but here are my top picks of the week:
Back to business. When I was younger, my aunt had a dog named Tara. Tara would sometimes break into her dog food stash and eat and eat...and eat and eat and eat. Then, completely engorged and full, she'd crawl under my aunt's bed and cry to herself, completely having a pity party. Today, fresh off the heels of two massive meals with folks I love, I kinda wanna do the same. If I could figure out how to fit under my bed and cry, I totally would but for now, I'll have to settle for groaning away, looking up at my ceiling. There's gotta be a word for this. I feel like that girl in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who they have to roll away. All of that to say, I'm a little distracted (and honestly, a little drunk right now) but here are my top picks of the week:
- So, I think we've established by this point that I love me some Aaron Sorkin. The only thing I like more than Aaron Sorkin is an Aaron Sorkin parody and Seth Meyers' this past week was top notch (though honestly, Seth, from me to you, why is the rest of your show not this funny? SHAME SHAME SHAME). I've basically sent this to all the people I know who love The West Wing already, so some of you may have already seen this but damn, it's worth sharing out far and wide.
- I loved the story of Patrick, a deaf teen in Uganda. For fifteen years, Patrick has not been able to communicate with his family, members of the community, other than through very rudimentary gestures because sign language isn't available/taught in his home. This video shows footage of Patrick's very first sign language class, after a sign language teacher finally comes to his community in Africa. I dare you to watch it without tearing up just a little.
- I kinda wish I could make this my ringtone.
- So a total confession about me: I LOVE messing with Siri on my phone. It is by far one of the dorkiest, lamest things about me (which says plenty, just trust), but sometimes I will literally sit for 30 minutes just messing with her, asking her to be my friend, questioning whether she's Her, trying to do knock knock jokes with her, etc. So Siri related humor is already up my alley. Add Taylor Swift to that (yes, I know, I'm giving her another shout out here) and I'm all over it.
- These windshield wipers are the only reason I think I'd ever want to drive a car again.
- Haley Morris-Cafiero's art is so important--and pretty biting at that. Haley's angle: capturing and criticizing our society's way of interacting with and commenting on overweight/obese individuals. Morris-Cafiero basically sets up cameras in public spaces to capture the looks that people give her regarding her size. The results are pretty damning, really sad, and should make us all think twice about how we respond to people who are overweight.
- I think we all need just a small dose of panda triplets in our lives.
- My friend Sita has slowly turned me into a cat person. I don't know how it happened! But the transformation is complete. I happened across this video this past week documenting what happened when researchers unleashed kittens on stressed out people! (Someone find me one of these glass boxes, stat).
- My love of stationary and cards is pretty infamous amongst my group of friends; I get teased about it plenty but honestly, I have a pretty good sense of humor about it at this point. Yes, I have a PaperSource problem and could probably take it down a notch when it comes to sending out cards to people with sentimental platitudes or ridiculous inside joke drawings. No, I don't plan on changing my behavior or doing anything differently. Anyway, I've been bugging out a little because I think I'm not going to send out Christmas cards this year; my friend Ryan sent this to me in response (I think, really as just torture. Bad Ryan!) There's some really funny ones here (I particularly like 5, 9, 10, and 24).
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Verklempt
I've long waited for a moment where I could organically use "verklempt" to describe my personal state of being. I blame this on my having watched way too much Coffee Talk as a child.
But I digress.
Today, I found out my favorite diner in New York City, the Edison Cafe, is closing its doors, likely within a month's time. Naturally, the first thing I did was call my mother in a panic. To most people, this reaction would probably seem weird (and maybe it is) but my mother understood it. The Edison's a titan in the theatre district, an institution that's welcomed many of the theatre greats through its doors over the past twenty years. Don't believe me? Neil Simon literally wrote a play about it and Neil--he knows his stuff.
There's a part of me that's hugely sad to see such an important part of New York theatre history shut its doors; plus, I find something utterly charming and romantic about the rush and clanging noises of a great diner. More than that though, I'm sad to see this place go for personal reasons. As an adult, and as a New Yorker, I've spent a lot of time trying to find places that really felt like mine. Maybe it's watching too many episodes of Friends or Cheers (I know, again with the TV!) but I feel like I've been constantly on the lookout for places that made me feel comfortable, welcomE, or like they just fit. The Edison was one of those places.
For plenty of people, this probably wouldn't make sense. Walking into the Edison, it doesn't seem like much of anything special. The theatre posters are hung a little crookedly, the signs are handwritten, the paint's yellowing a bit. However, based on the uproar that erupted once the closing was announced, it's clear I'm not alone in feeling connected to the place. For me, the Edison was far more than a hole in the wall with great matzo ball soup or a killer blintz; it's been a marker in so many of my important memories here. It's one of the first places I came when I first visited NYC at age 19, it plays a prominent role in what's easily one of the happiest memories of my life and the moment I decided I needed to move here after college. Every year when my mom is here, without fail, we make it an event to go here (and we always order the same thing; cheeseburger deluxe with a Diet Coke, no pickle). We've sat at those tables, year after year, as life has zoomed by. Our conversations have changed--from next semester's classes to 401Ks, from heartbreak to the pangs of a new love, from figuring out where the closest IKEA was to what couch was the best investment. I've grown up inside these walls and while my life has changed so much in the seven years since I first came here, this place has stayed the same. There's been something really comforting about knowing that in a life that felt like it was moving and changing so quickly and a city that wouldn't stop doing that either, there was this one place that felt suspended in time, stable, safe.
I'll be sad to see the Edison go. The girl in the left booth will have to find a new place to haunt. Maybe its closing is a sign of the times. Maybe it's another reminder that I have to stop making a home for myself in places, and instead need to make a home within myself, so that sense of safety and stability with go with me wherever I go, because things are going to keep changing.
But I digress.
Today, I found out my favorite diner in New York City, the Edison Cafe, is closing its doors, likely within a month's time. Naturally, the first thing I did was call my mother in a panic. To most people, this reaction would probably seem weird (and maybe it is) but my mother understood it. The Edison's a titan in the theatre district, an institution that's welcomed many of the theatre greats through its doors over the past twenty years. Don't believe me? Neil Simon literally wrote a play about it and Neil--he knows his stuff.
There's a part of me that's hugely sad to see such an important part of New York theatre history shut its doors; plus, I find something utterly charming and romantic about the rush and clanging noises of a great diner. More than that though, I'm sad to see this place go for personal reasons. As an adult, and as a New Yorker, I've spent a lot of time trying to find places that really felt like mine. Maybe it's watching too many episodes of Friends or Cheers (I know, again with the TV!) but I feel like I've been constantly on the lookout for places that made me feel comfortable, welcomE, or like they just fit. The Edison was one of those places.
For plenty of people, this probably wouldn't make sense. Walking into the Edison, it doesn't seem like much of anything special. The theatre posters are hung a little crookedly, the signs are handwritten, the paint's yellowing a bit. However, based on the uproar that erupted once the closing was announced, it's clear I'm not alone in feeling connected to the place. For me, the Edison was far more than a hole in the wall with great matzo ball soup or a killer blintz; it's been a marker in so many of my important memories here. It's one of the first places I came when I first visited NYC at age 19, it plays a prominent role in what's easily one of the happiest memories of my life and the moment I decided I needed to move here after college. Every year when my mom is here, without fail, we make it an event to go here (and we always order the same thing; cheeseburger deluxe with a Diet Coke, no pickle). We've sat at those tables, year after year, as life has zoomed by. Our conversations have changed--from next semester's classes to 401Ks, from heartbreak to the pangs of a new love, from figuring out where the closest IKEA was to what couch was the best investment. I've grown up inside these walls and while my life has changed so much in the seven years since I first came here, this place has stayed the same. There's been something really comforting about knowing that in a life that felt like it was moving and changing so quickly and a city that wouldn't stop doing that either, there was this one place that felt suspended in time, stable, safe.
I'll be sad to see the Edison go. The girl in the left booth will have to find a new place to haunt. Maybe its closing is a sign of the times. Maybe it's another reminder that I have to stop making a home for myself in places, and instead need to make a home within myself, so that sense of safety and stability with go with me wherever I go, because things are going to keep changing.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Does Time Warner not understand...
...that when my cable and internet are down, I am forced to be left alone with my thoughts which is completely unacceptable.
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