Thursday, October 29, 2009
[aside: so I just remembered that today is in fact Thursday, not Friday... but since Friday is the best day, lets just pretend for a minute shall we...]
I drink coffee in the morning. This was always an occasional thing, never daily. Until about three months ago. Here in the big apple we have Starbucks like everyone else. We have coffee shops and bodegas. But we also have coffee carts. It is a glorious thing to behold. A little enclosed cart with a person standing inside to serve coffee, tea, pastries, and depending on the cart, make egg sandwiches. In the neighborhood where I work we have several coffee carts. And I've tried them all.
[this is a pic from google images, not the Upper Eastside]
There are two carts directly across the street. I used to get my occasional cup of morning joy from one of these carts. But there is always always a line. And why should I stand in a line? I am an Uptown Girl. I deserve better. Obvi.
I tried a coffee cart about a block away, it is on my way to work and close enough that the coffee is still piping hot when I get to my desk. This coffee cart almost never has a line, and the coffee is delish. I found my place. And, of course, I soon became a VIP at this coffee cart and a loyal daily customer.
My coffee man is very friendly. Sometimes too friendly. Sometimes borderline inappropriate. Sometimes downright creepy. Would you like me to share some examples with you? Oh, ok, no problem.
Examples of Creepiness:
- Creepy McCreeperson tells me on a regular basis that he likes my eyes. As he stares into them and I avert said eyes. Today he told my walking buddy, "I see stars in your eyes", or something like that. In fact, it makes me feel a little better when he comments on her eyes in addition to mine.
- When I pay my $1.25 for a large coffee with a large bill (aka a $5, $10, or $20) rather than exact change, Creepy McCreeperson says, and I quote, "Oh, big spender. You taking me out to dinner tonight?" This is followed by a restaurant suggestion such as McDonald's or The World Series. This is what he says every single time I use a "large bill". Every. Single. Time. I now have my clever response down to a science. I reply, "Sure, I'll meet you at McDonald's. See you there".
- One Monday morning, our convo went like this:
Creepy: How was your weekend?
UG: Not long enough... How was yours?
Creepy: Good good. I had a dream about you.
UG: Oh.... haha... [awkward laugh]
Creepy: Yes, on Friday night you were in my dream. But then I woke up
and you weren't there.
UG: [walks away speechless]
And there you have it folks. Why do I continue to get coffee from Mr. McCreeperson? Thank you for asking. I love the speed and ease in obtaining my coffee. Creepy McCreeperson knows exactly what I want and gets it ready for me as I'm walking up to his cart of creepiness. I love that.
And why don't I know his real name by now? Well that is clearly due to his creepiness. As a daily customer, I would typically ask his name and tell him mine. However McCreeperson already gets too familiar and personal. I don't want to encourage him. Or his dreams.
The truth is, when it comes down to it, I really don't think Creepy is such a bad guy. I think if I actually took him up on his dinner suggestion McCreeperson would most likely turn me down and say something like, "oh no no no, I'm a family man, I have a wife and kids in a foreign land or possibly an outer borough." I think he is all talk. And hey, who doesn't like getting complimented on their eyes over coffee everyday?
Now get back to work and try to help me remember that today is Thursday, not Friday. I still get to see Creepy McCreeperson one more day this week.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
It is a big holiday for me, and the costume is of course clutch. I'm hitting a road block. And I don't like this indecision one bit.
So, here I am. Four days until lift-off. Sans ideas. And that's where you (my loyal public) come in... please help me!
I have some specs, obvi.
- My costume should be simple to put together- aka if I need to purchase something it should be easy to obtain and fairly low-budget. I mean, I'd rather spend my money while out celebrating the holiday than on the costume itself.
- My costume should be clever (preferably). I like anything that is a play on words, but not so complicated that no one understands it. Last year I went as Facebook. Strangers wrote messages on my back (FB Wall) all night. And I listed my age as 21. That was a perk.
- My costume should be flattering to the figure but not slutty. You know, all the other girls have that covered. Slutty nurse, slutty superhero, slutty blogger, slutty prostitute. It's passe.
My youngest sister suggested that I go as Kate Gosselin from Jon&Kate+Eight. Our convo went like this:
Lil Sis: Can I have your blessing to dress up like Facebook this year?
UG: You have my Uptown Girl stamp of approval [ **UG APPROVED**]. Any ideas for me?
Lil Sis: A girl in my class is dressing up as Kate from J&K+8. You could do that.
UG: That is so mean and sad! Plus the hairdo...
Lil Sis: I know, I know, but its funny.
I declined. And let me just say that I am expecting a lot from you bloggers. There are quite a few of you loyal fans that make yourselves known and others out there that lurk [read: read the post but don't comment]. If there is a time to comment with an idea, that time is now. Any idea you have is appreciated!!!!
*disclaimer- I am a grown woman that likes to dress up on Halloween, yes. But this is NYC, it is a big thing. It is a huge night for going out. In my hometown the holiday is for kids only, but here it is for us grownups. And I do use the term grownup loosely.
Monday, October 26, 2009
At the end of our convo, Mr. Patient Man handed me a chocolate bar and said... "you look so skinny, you'd better eat this".
I'm not making this up. He really said that.
Outside of dreamland (and maybe blogland- thanks to *Rita*), no one has ever referred to me as skinny. On top of that, I am feeling particularly bloated today. And this patient is very skinny himself. I mean, I could break him if I bumped into him. I could knock him over if I exhaled in his direction.
I thanked him, blushed, pinched myself, checked behind me for a candid-camera-crew, and replied that "well, no one has ever called me that before, but I'll take it". I told him I'd share the chocolate bar with my coworkers who are in fact skinny minnies. And I walked away attempting to see myself the way Mr. Patient Man sees me. Even if Mr. Patient Man is just an old charmer. Even if Mr. Patient Man has an eye disease that left him almost blind so that my actual body is blurred out when he looks my way. What matters is that he sees me as I am: a woman in need of chocolate. Could he be my personal elderly Mark Darcy?
Thursday, October 22, 2009
On a side note, how sad is it that I have to shop Target online because there are no stores in Manhattan? I just shed a tear on behalf of New Yorkers everywhere. We are a Targetless island. But, alas, it is the weekend so I'll have to save the complaining for its rightful time and place: my Monday morning commute.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Please brace yourself and try not to think less of me when you read this...
I am in need of boots. And a new purse. Shocking, I know.
I'd like some flat boots that hit mid-calf. Although I'd like them in a yummy reddish-brown color, it seems more practical for my everyday sophistication to instead seek and purchase black boots*. Leather. Do you ever go into Aldo's or some other shoe store that sells loads of leather boots and just go around smelling all that real leather? Neither do I. That would be weird.
As for the purse, I'd like something practical while still chic. The problem with my current collection is that my bags are either too big or too small, and those that are the right size are too heavy for my dainty frame even when empty (and i do tend to carry way too much crap in my purse regardless of size). Like Goldilocks, I'm looking for a bag that is just right. Right size, neutral color, convenient pockets, and impeccable style.
What I've researched via online shopping has been very promising. But I want to try on the boots before buying, and see the quality of both the boots and purse in real life. I just don't trust that the item will be as spectacular in person as it is in the airbrushed online photo. And my feet are a work of art. Original and in need of that perfect fit. I developed a new habit awhile back in which I do not buy shoes unless they fit well and are comfortable. It has drastically changed my shoe shopping and my closet.
I also do not buy a shoe or any accessory or piece of clothing unless I love it. When I'm in that dressing room admiring myself in some outfit I'm trying on in the 3-way mirror, I often remark "like-not-love". That determines whether or not I will make the purchase. I grew sick and tired of buying and then not wearing. Tired of seeing that item that I liked-not-loved when I tried it on and trying to find a time to wear it but instead growing frustrated with the waste of money, time, and space, and the growing dust on said item.
This brings me back to my oh-so-important point. I adore the boots you see below! I originally saw them on Say yes to Hoboken. They are Victoria's Secreat. And catalog/online ONLY. Is it worth the risk of ordering the boots and then having to send them back? I am not so great at that returning items in the mail part. They are beautiful though, even if I can't try them on, even if they are much higher on the leg than what I'm hoping to find. To buy or not to buy online? To risk or not to risk? That is the question. What is your opinion?
[these boots are so yummylicious! i swoon. i die.]
Please feel free to give me links and/or leads to any boots and/or purses that you think I will love. I plan on taking time out of my hectic schedule to
smell a lot of leather shop this weekend and would really like a successful hunt.
*keep in mind that I wear a lot of black, never chocolate brown, and occasionally red-brown, tan, or beige.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
I pour so much love into Blogger and I give Blogger countless hours of time, attention, and tender loving care. I give and give and give... sometimes I cry at night thinking about this sick co-dependant relationship I'm in. And it hurts. Love hurts.
Oh now I have that song stuck in my head from "Wedding Singer". No not the song entitled Love Hurts. Remember that Boy George wanna-be who sang Do you really want to hurt me... do you really want to make me cry... over and over? Yeah, it is now playing over and over in my head. On repeat.
If any of you, my public, has any pull with Blogger, please put a word in on my behalf. Or with a company that will sell me a laptop for cheap- your choice.
Happy Saturday Blogland!
Friday, October 16, 2009
Now that the Big Apple is in the midst of an undesirable nor'easter, the outdoor seating is no longer an option and the restaurant's outer wall is a row of windows. Last night, already drenched and freezing, I was overjoyed to get to Gina's and step inside this warm peaceful atmosphere. After my body adjusted to the temperature I started to freeze again. Unfortunately, they had a window-wall panel open and I was getting a brisk breeze. Not nice at all. I'm not sure if the restaurant was actually freezing due to the open window, or if I was personally freezing in my rain soaked pants and converse kicks. The world may never know. The world does know this: I complained to the waiter and eventually the window-wall panel was closed and I was relieved of the gusty wind, but still cold.
I think deep down I am a glittering socialite diva. But even deeper down I am an elderly lady. The evidence: once I get cold I can't shake it, can't warm up, I think it is in my bones. My bones are cold and my body is shivering from the inside out. Also I have grey hair beneath this hairdye, my bones creak, and I listen to music from 40 years ago.
This sparkling diva has an announcement to make. You must MUST check out Gina la Fornarina. Because aside from the fluke weather issues, it is a find. It has yummy coffee, drinks (dying to try their Bellini), and food. Last night we shared this interesting focaccia pizza with bread on top and bottom, stuffed with ricotta cheese, tomatoes, arugula, and truffle sauce. It was unbelievable and I had to stuff myself. No choice really.
That said, my favorite part is actually the European atmosphere. There is no rush, and I felt as though we could stay there all night chatting and munching, like the table belonged to us. I've passed by several nights when there are couples or groups sitting there relaxing enjoying a bottle of wine and felt the urge to go join them (but I resisted).
[not the best pic, but I swear it was delish]
That is my two cents on my favorite fall find. Check it out and let me know what you think. Better yet, lets go together. I'd be happy to let you take me out for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or drinks. Because that's the kind of girl I am.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Dear Sam Champion,
It is raining today. And quite chilly. I had to wear my pea coat and carry an umbrella. I forgot my rainboots at home. Lamespice. But, Sam, I am 80% ok with that because in exchange for crap weather today I have a special request...
If its not too much trouble, I'd like you to make sure it is nice and sunny all weekend. That means no rain from Friday afternoon until Monday morning. Rainy days and Mondays always get me down, and I really would like a kickin weekend.
I'd really appreciate it if you'd arrange some sunshine for me, Sammy.
<3 Uptown Girl <3
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
There is just something about a love that is true, that is pure, that is unfailing, and that is fake. It gets me every time. Is it totally unrealistic to expect real unscripted men to behave like Jim? Probably. Well, not probably, more like definitely.
I've discussed with my girlfriends (on multiple multiple occasions) the idea that Rosie O'Donnell brought to our attention in Sleepless in Seattle...
The scene: 2 women are sitting around either watching or discussing a movie. An Affair to Remember. Classic romance. Love it. Anyways I will let Annie and Becky do the talking.
Annie (Meg Ryan): "Now that was when people KNEW how to be in love. They knew it! Time, distance... nothing could separate them because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was..."
Becky (Rosie O): "A movie! That's your problem! You don't want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie." [emphasis added for your benefit]
Now, to add a little sugar and spice to this post, I will send you over to read this brief classic post at OWN IT from 2008 where we discussed the difference between settling and being realistic about men. Little known fact... they are human. Did you know that?
I know you've seen me refer to babs in prior posts. Boys are bad and stupid. And this is a shocking concept to some (I can only assume these shocked souls are idealists with perfect lives). However, I think the idea of babs is actually quite forgiving to men, and not a man-bashing club. Ok, sometimes it is, but I just can't help myself when I get new raw material. Can you?
The theory played out should look something like this: if you assume that men will at some point do something bad, stupid, idiotic, wrong, mess up, etc then when the man in your life makes a mistake, which is inevitable, you can avoid feeling like men "always disappoint". Again- men and dads in movies are so unbelievable and perfect, and if they aren't perfect at the beginning of a show or movie, they are by the end. Am I right or am I right? Yes, I am. The men on the silver screen give us precisely what we need and want, and the men in real life can never measure up. It is unfair to both sexes.
What is fair then?? Thank you for asking. I'd say it is fair to assume that the men in our off-screen lives will be imperfect. We don't expect idealistic picture perfect friendships with our girlfriends, flawless and ever blissful relationships with our family, do we? So instead of waiting for the dude to fail and then responding with "aha! I knew he was an arse!" it can look more like "ahh yes, you're an arse, but that's life".
[Obvi I'm talking about failing in small everyday human ways, not the big stuff because that is a different level in the system. Don't get crazy.]
Do you agree with me? Yay or nay? Have you found a way to balance these oh so important everyday issues? Are you of the opinion that we women are the ones who tend to create the problems? Do tell.
This post is one long tangent that just kept developing itself as I wrote (and props to Liza for allowing me to plagiarize her whenever I want to). But what I really wanted to tell you is this: I have a hot date tonight. yep.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
[aside: I intend this information to be used with discretion. As such, please read faces not actual bodies.]
*beard poll on the right. don't miss the opportunity to
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
This is Eric Dane. But you already knew that. Sadly, Mr. Dane has a beard. You know how I feel about beards and their rankocity. I would be willing to find out if McSteamy's beard is McSmelly or not, for the purposes of science and for your benefit, of course.
And he will have to wear this suit for the scientific stank-o-meter kiss, or no dice. obvi, I don't kiss just anyone you know.
Topic numero tres: Leaving on a jet plane.
I'm leaving on a jet plane. Don't know when I'll be back again. Oh babe, I hate to go.
That is a lie. I know when I'm coming back. Remember, I'm going to India at the end of November because I want to celebrate Thanksgiving the way it was intended- pilgrims and Indians together. My ancestors were pilgrims (yes, Mayflower and all), so I will go to India and do it right this year. Also to be with my brother and see the whole world.
I've been mulling over an assortment of thoughts and ideas and preparations that have to be thought thru before my trip. Today I'm mostly thinking about how to pack.
I will be travelling alone, so I really can't bring too many suitcases. Let's be honest here, how will I go to the bathroom in the airport if I'm lugging multiple suitcases? That has been my latest reoccurring nightmare.
Its like this..... I'm sleeping, like a baby, all curled up in the fetal position, comfy cozy with my carebear (vintage), when suddenly I am in the airport in Brussels for my layover. I'm trying to simultaneously roll two large suitcases behind me while eating Pepperidge Farm cookies, brussels (and oh are they delish or what?). It is really quite difficult, but I'm all proud that I can multi-task so well and do three things with only two arms. I'm walking thru the airport thinking about what a powerful world-travelling, multi-tasking, cookie-loving woman I have become. Quintessential Uptown Girl moment.
And this is where the nightmare part comes in... all of a sudden I have to pee. Like really really have to go immediately. My bladder feels like it is about to burst. And I rush to the nearest bathroom (WC in a Brussels airport of course) worrying about where I will lodge my suitcases once inside. But I can't even get thru the WC door with my suitcases. I have become a wide load. And then in the dream I am suddenly being led and followed by "Wide Load" trucks with the blinking lights that lead those made to order houses when they travel on the highway. They are trying to lead me to another bathroom that can fit me with my luggage. But it is in the wrong terminal and I'm nervous that I'll pee my pants or miss my flight or something.
And then I wake up. And realize I have to go use the restroom.
What do you think this means?? Am I just nervous about travelling? Am I drinking too much aguita before bed? Is it a sign that I should travel light? Am I feeling fat? The world may never know.
Topic numero quatro: I wrote 100 posts. You're Welcome.
How did that even happen? I went from not being so into blogging and complaining that my sister wanted me to write a real post for her blog, to writing a zillion (ok 100) posts for my own fabulous blogizzle. Yowza.
Thank you for joining me on my journey. Keep coming back for the next 100!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Mr. Turturro and I rode the long bus ride from the Upper Eastside to Midtown West, where I was to meet my eX. I asked Mr. T a little bit about acting because I have a brother who hopes to become a successful actor one day. I got Mr. T's autograph for said brother. However, Mr. T did not want to talk much about his craft.
Mr. T suggested we have dinner. I reminded him that I was on my way to meet my eX, and then I agreed to coffee at a cafe about a block from where I was headed so that the eX could come meet him, too. We drank our coffee, but as soon as the eX texted that he was rounding the corner, Mr. T had to rush off. They didn't get to meet.
And the eX was angry. Very angry that I would even think to go to coffee with another man. Even John Turturro. Even a man who was over twice my age. Even a man who knew about the eX and was waiting to buy him a cup of coffee.
We made it home (fighting) and I looked up John Turturro in Google Images. Oh, I was so conned. The lovely man who kept me company for the afternoon was not in fact Mr. T at all. He does not ride this bus in order to "be one with the people of NY". The real Mr. Turturro does not have a foreign accent.
This is the lesson I learned: men blow everything out of proportion, so it is unwise to let them know when you make a mistake until after you check the facts. And even then, just don't tell them if you don't have to. I should've waited until I verified that coffee was with the real John Turturro before divulging that information (if at all). Now I know how to play my cards right. Also, babs.
I also stopped talking to strangers on public transportation (unless they are in my personal space unnecessarily, but that is a different kind of conversation). And when I see the fake Mr. T sitting at that same bus stop, I look the other way. And when I see confirmed celebs in public, I don't often go to coffee with them.
And there you have it friends, one story, two versions. You decide. Choose your own adventure.
Friday, October 2, 2009
I am exaggerating a little bit (if you must know). I only have a few minutes left before I can leave this desk and this computer and this headset behind for the *weekend* and go see my nyc friends after work at happy hour. I say nyc friends to differentiate between groups: nyc friends, college friends, childhood friends, virtual blogger friends... imaginary friends, etc. You know. And sometimes the groups overlap.
But, back to my brain. Right now it feels like it might explode if it isn't set free from this headset that makes me look like a telephone operator out of "Lassie" and totally flattens my hair with a vengeance. Why do I wear it? Easy- so I don't get a crick in my neck from talking with the regular phone and so I can have two hands free for typing at all times. AKA- so I can blog as I
On and off all day I've been speaking with the various representatives of Caremark Specialty Pharmacy about a case I started with them three weeks ago. These very nice people are driving me mad. I am so ready to forget about them and how useless they have been and how I will probably have to cancel a patient's appointment because I will not have the pt's medicine here in time to inject next week. You should keep in mind that Caremark Specialty Pharmacy has very irritating music playing while you hold. And they like making you hold. A lot.
I lied. There is one representative who is trying to help me. Her name is Charlotte. She even gave me her direct phone number. I want to bake cookies for Charlotte and bring them to her in whatever Southern state she works. Alas, even after Charlotte's hard work on my case, I still haven't made any headway on this problem today. None. I could scream.
I would really like to get this mug and keep it on my desk. Just looking at it makes me smile and cackle softly. And I imagine the mug will come filled with KitKats and M&Ms. I will buy it as a gift for myself one day soon.
Needless to say, my brain is looking forward to a long two days off. No more thinking. No more trying to remember things that I'd much rather forget. No more working! yippee!!
So, yay me. I made it thru my last bit of work and I'm officially free. God Bless America!
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Does anyone else find this disturbing while sort of cute at the same time?
Its bananas I tell you.