I Didn't Forget You, Blog. I'm Just Preoccupied.

My poor blog. I still love you, even though I'm now blogging at www.jfklax.com too.

The Real Housewife of NJ Experiment

The weirdest thing about moving to the city from the country is timing. Everything is delayed if you live a city life. 

For one, people get married later. While my 25-year-old friends at home are getting engaged and married, my New York friends, for the most part, are waiting until they're in the 27/28 range (however, they still live together "in sin" as my family reminded me yesterday).

Kids are an entirely different story. There are a bunch of people at home with kids, but I don't know even one city friend planning to have a baby anytime soon. Mainly because we live in teeny apartments. Where would we put a child? My boyfriend said we'd have to hand the kid a blanket and say, "There's the couch. Good luck."

I don't know of anyone willing to move to Scarsdale or Greenwich, CT. That's where our bosses live. We still like to go out until 4am and a child would absolutely prevent that. Okay actually in reality, I don't go out late very often, because I prefer to not be hungover all day, but still. There are times (weddings, birthdays, random Fridays)  when we still like to go out. Also sometimes we like to blast Linkin Park or Kokomo in the mini apartment, and that would wake a sleeping baby for sure. We don't live very close to family and obviously our city friends wouldn't know how to babysit. Who would help us raise a child? Google? How would that happen? Would I have to quit my job to stay home with it or would I have to get a nanny? Or send it to daycare? How would we pay for a nanny and a child, when I struggle to pay the $1K rent a month? I can't imagine there are any decent daycares in Jersey City and how would I find a nanny I can trust? Let's say I stay at home. Would I resent it? Would I be afraid of not being able to support myself? Would the dad be able to support two people and pay rent and still be a relaxed and happy person?

I did an experiment today. I was off for the dumbest holiday ever, Columbus Day, and my boyfriend had to work. 

So I pretended to be a housewife. Naturally. 

I woke up late, made some fresh coffee from beans I ground myself, and then dusted, scrubbed, cleaned, and vacuumed for five hours. In stilettos and a dress. Okay not really, I cleaned in pajamas. 

I took an hour-long break to chat to my LA friend about our new blog. (Perhaps I'm a stay-at-home lady who gets paid to blog). After the cleaning and laundry, I took my canvas bags and went to the farmer's market. I picked up some mini baby pumpkins to decorate my mini apartment and some fresh green beans for dinner. I figured I would Google how to prepare them. Then I went to Duane Reade for laundry detergent and yogurt, followed by the Asian bodega for chicken broth and a lemon. I called my little sister to see what she was up to (watching Gossip Girl online instead of studying = another future housewife). Upon arrival at my so fresh and so clean apartment, I started making dinner for my breadwinning, heartwinning boyfriend. His favorite thing I ever made is Sunday Chicken. It's Monday, so I made Monday Chicken (same recipe). The prep time is about 1.5 hours. It has to brown, simmer, and bake in lots of wine and butter (the two keys to happiness). I learned that you must cut off both ends of the green bean and rinse and then boil in salted water for five minutes. No problem. I was doing so well that I turned on some Classic Rock and lit a candle. My lighters are missing (stolen), so I used a match for the first time ever, no joke. Sometimes a housewife has to man up. I also made rice, the 20 minute, real, Uncle Ben's kind, none of that boil in a bag crap. I also made homemade iced tea, with two regular tea bags and a Green Tea citrus one for good measure. 

The boyfriend arrived home with his briefcase just as the timer went off. He hung his hat and cloak, gave me a steamy kiss, and then sat at the table with his newspaper. Fine, it was actually ESPN on his computer and he hovered in the kitchen for a bit. Dinner was a success, except he choked on the rice and didn't like the citrus green tea. He noticed that I vacuumed though, which was nice. And he went to the common area of the building to watch football so I could write. What a darling.

All I know is that I have absolutely no energy to do the dishes, my feet hurt, and my back hurts from all the cleaning and slaving away all day. I'm a desperate housewife, and I need a dirty martini. Being a housewife isn't easy. I can't even imagine what it would be like to be a stay-at-home Mom. I'd definitely need to hire a housewife also. Tomorrow I'm going back to work, and perhaps I'll appreciate my 8 hours in a chair a bit more. It might be better than cleaning the toilet and getting splashed with boiling butter, especially if there was a screaming child in the background. DINK for life, or at least for now. 

Newsflash: I am the Female God

On the way home, I literally was grumpy and looking down and saying to myself, "God, I hope no one stops me or says anything to me. I just want to get home."

The city, maybe only New York City, is teeming with street teams, people trying to sell you things, save your soul, and get you to donate money. I said to myself, "We're harassed all day long. Yet these psychos still think it's okay to bombard us (New Yorkers) on our way home." And I always stop because I feel bad, and they always stop me because I look non-threatening with my blonde hair and underage looking face.

And then of course, a girl stopped me.

Creepy girl: Excuse me, I have a random question for you.
Me in my head: She's either going to ask where I get my hair done or if I've ever heard of Amnesty International and care about animals and babies.
Creepy girl: Have you heard of God the Female?
Me: Yes.
CG (confused): Oh, did someone already stop you?
Me: No, I've just heard of it.
CG: Well then can I ask you some questions about Scriptures in the Bible?
Me in my head: Hell no, I don't care about religion, I'm late to get home and relax, and you're weird. And why are you wearing red and showing cleavage? What is this the Mary Magdalene religion? I read DaVinci Code. I'm not amused or phased.
Me in reality: No, there are a lot of religions and I don't think any of them are right. I don't care to debate.
CG: Well this is the PROPHECY. The Female God is coming back to earth. It's PROPHESIED. The Bible talks all about God the Female. I'm from a school called "Yada Ya" (I tuned out)
Me: Good luck. I'm not interested at all.
CG: Well if someone else stops you, that might be a sign from God that you're a chosen one. You never know.
Me: Maybe. KthanksBye.

W. T. F. Religion. One of the few things that gets me adamantly fired up. No one is right. We're all just bored humans trying to reassure ourselves. And now apparently the female Jesus.. we'll call her Jessie is coming to judge the quick and the dead. And she wants me to follow her. No freaking thanks. I swear to the gods in a past life I was burned at the stake for casting spells on these idiots.

TENNIS: The Trevor Revival

Trevors have a funny way of showing up again. I haven't thought much about Trevors since taking myself out of the dating game. Not that I ever seriously dated a Trevor, but I guess I just noticed them more often, made fun of them more freely, and appreciated the fact that I have much more of an edge than they could ever hope to have. 

And then last night I went to the US Open with my work friend and rep friend. What a night! Not only did I forget how much I love playing tennis, but I forgot how much fun it was to Trevor watch! Oh right, you might be wondering what the hell is Trevor? If you don't know, refer to the Trevor post I wrote 2 years ago. Get with the program. Here's a photo too (I stole this from the Internet, if this is you, I'm sorry but it was the best Trevor photo I've ever seen and that's an honest compliment.) 

I've never been to the US Open, although I played tennis my last two years in high school and even won a JV tournament as a senior playing 1st singles... yes, but it was JV so that's awkward. This live pro match was amazing! First up it was Maria "The Grunter" Sharapova. What an intense girl! If she makes that much noise in the bedroom, I would not want to be her neighbor. She killed it in 2 sets too. It looked like Iveta Benesova (so many Ovas) didn't even try! She could've pulled up a lawn chair and casually stuck her racket out all night, hoping to hit a ball. The score would've been the same in the end. 

Then the Trevors next to us brought back a giant basket of food. That's what Trevors do, they carry baskets. One of them even caught a signed ball from Maria. She hit it right to the Trevors (naturally)! He'll probably go home and put that in a glass case now. 

After a short break, the men came on deck... Novak vs. Phil. The crowd went wild. It was a bit offensive actually that the stadium was half full for the Ovas and then 23,000 people showed up for the guys. Although they were hitting 130 mph balls. They also had personal slaves. Not only ball boys (no girls for them because that would be too distracting) who crouched on the sides of the court ready to spring into action should a ball land. These guys also had towel boys, who were at their beck and call every five seconds. "Oh good sir, please take this towel!!!! Wipe your sweat and then throw it back in my face. Thank you so much!!!!" 

Oh, the best part: there was a fist fight! The players actually stopped playing because the entire stadium was cheering/yelling/wrecking havoc. This is tennis, not an Eagles football game! Unreal! What are these Trevors fighting about? Whose Mercedes is nicer? Whose pants are more khaki? They kicked some guys out, resumed play. 

My favorite part of live tennis is that the announcer tells everyone to be "Quiet please." Then as soon as the point is won, everyone erupts in conversation, only to shut up again in 2 seconds. So the entire time you hear this rise and fall of voices, and during the play, everyone watches intently until the point is lost and goes "OOOOHHHH" and then claps. Only it's 2010 and we're football/WWE loving Americans, so it almost sounds like we're all being sarcastic, like we're just really amused by this tennis thing. The guy behind us kept shouting, "Let's Go Phil!" I was waiting for a security guard to slap his wrists and escort him and his Heineken Light right out. 

Billie Jean King was there. 

I asked Shaun this morning, "What's the deal with Billie Jean King?" 

Shaun: "What do you mean?" 

Me: "I know she's a famous tennis player from years ago, but is it a man or a woman?" 

Shaun: "All I know is she's not my lover!" 

I Googled and she's just a lesbian, gay rights activist in case anyone was wondering. I don't think she got a gender change. 

More drama ensued. The two guys in front of us (one Trevor, one Jersey Shore Trent) had their feet on the empty seats in front of them. People with worse seats would try to sneak down and sit there, since they were clearly empty seats, but Trev and Trent would either refuse to move their feet or tattle tale to a security guard. One drunk Sorostitute gave up and went to get her big macho Trevor friends and there was almost another big fight. But Trent got a big guard to remove them. So I said, "You know Trent, what if I just put my feet right on you!" 

On the way out, we saw the kicked out crew, and my work friend very kindly offered them our seats since we were leaving. We would've loved to stick around to see that... the angry crew sitting directly behind the d-bags. I expect one or more of them received some swift kicks to the head. 

Not over yet... we had to walk to Lot X to find our driver. It took about 40 minutes to get there, but luckily his name was Lucky and after stalker calling us 10 times we found him near the World Fair Globe. 

The US Open was an experience. Pretty much the best sporting event I've ever attended besides the Phillies in the World Series last year and PSU vs. Ohio State in 2005. Can't wait to go back next weekend! 

Good in Chair

I didn't realize how uncomfortable I really was at work, in my cube, until I scavenged a chair from someone who left the agency. Hopefully now my hip won't bother me when I walk (as if I'm 85), and my elbow won't be enlarged from the angle in which I lean it against the edge of my desk (turns out you CAN get tennis elbow from sitting idly in a 3-walled cell 45  hours a week.)  

Maybe this chair has weird scratch marks on the arms and crumbs in the seat, but it's better than the slow death I was dying in that other poor excuse for a chair with foam coming out of the seams, and absolutely no support in the glute or back regions. If anyone even thinks about stealing this chair, I will personally find him (definitely a him, since this place is 90% male), blame him, and make him pay. I may also invest in a chain to make sure this never leaves my 4x4 space. Can I expense that?

To emphasize the importance of this moment, imagine that feeling when you've been walking all day long, stressing, running even, and you can't remember the last time you felt this tired. Then you lay down finally to go to bed.... THAT feeling. Like OMG, I may never get up, it's so good, it hurts. That's how my back feels right now. As if I was trapped in a tiny cage with a broken back for the last 23 months and someone finally adjusted my spine with a good crack.

Now all I need is a career doing yoga, art, and meditation on the beach and I'll be fit as a fiddle, right as rain. Meanwhile I am grateful for this chair and the fact that tomorrow is Friday. Apologies for not blogging in months and then writing about a chair... new blog launching soon about LA, NY, being a 20-something, guys, gossip, trends, and other super interesting, funny things! Promise!!

Overheard in the Office

In all seriousness: "I can't find an image of a woman in a prison jumpsuit that would fit in a shopping cart..."

The Golden Coast

As soon as I got to San Diego, I wanted to move there. I was afraid I would be let down, since I expected it to be the best place ever. Turns out it is... the oven that is NYC can't measure up to the 70 degree weather in SoCal. It was more of a vibe though... kind of like the Europe vibe where you just feel more excited about life and never want to go home.

We got there on a Thursday night and the downtown Gaslamp Quarter was a huge party. We stayed in the Keating Hotel, designed by the same company that makes Ferraris and Maseratis. The king size bed was one of the best feathery comfy hotel beds ever. I almost went to bed right away, instead of going out. But then I took a shower... it was open, as in see through, no door, right in the room, and had two shower heads, although this may be uncomfortable if you're not staying with your significant other. Double sinks, state of the art TV and wall radio (the first song on the radio when we turned it on was "California Gurls" by Katy Perry...93.3FM!), ipod dock in the alarm clock, espresso machine, and charger dock. Comfortable robes and slippers provided since the floors are concrete (therefore more sanitary?). Pull out closet, yoga mat, and big windows. They left desserts and spa music on the radio when they turned down the room every night. The first night Shaun, his friend and I went to a place called Tequila for some food and drinks. We were too tired to try the uber trendy club across the street.

On Friday, we got food at Richard Walkers Pancake House (giant apple pancake German thing) then went to Pacific Beach. The guys took a surf lesson and I laid around on the beach. It was great. So sunny, but not too hot. Not crowded, typical California... too cool for Least Coast. Girls still wear trucker hats though. That's so 2006. My sister and her bf arrived that night and

we went to dinner at the place connected to our hotel...nom Italian. Then we tried to go to a rooftop bar called Altitude at the top of the Marriott. But we went to the wrong Marriott and when we finally got to the real Marriott by PETCO Park... the line was long and Shaun said the crowd looked lame. Ha! So snotty! So we went to the lounge at the bottom of our hotel... basement lounge, trying to be hip and exclusive. We got in for free since we were hotel guests, but the drinks were way too expensive even compared to NYC and once again, the crowd was beat, according to Shaun. We danced a little after getting kicked out of the empty VIP section for wanting to sit rather than buy bottles...we made the lounge look cooler by actually sitting in the empty section, but whatever.

Saturday...what the heck did we do Saturday? OH! We piled 6 people into the rental Civic and went to the Hotel del Coronado, National Historic Landmark. I was excited for this because I'm a fan of the movie, Some Like It Hot, with Marilyn Monroe. In the movie, the hotel is known as "FLORIDA!" where she goes to look for millionaires with yachts who wear glasses..."Men who wear glasses are so much more gentle, and sweet, and helpless. Haven't you ever noticed it?..They get those weak eyes from reading - you know, those long tiny little columns in the Wall Street Journal." We mostly hung out at the hotel beach and bar/deck.

That night we pregamed in robes (well, I did) and then went to Quality Social for dinner and drinks. Afterward we finally waited in that dumb line for Altitude. I got a water when we got in...the views were great though, there was a trendy fire pit, and lots of trendy people and we actually got a table in the VIP section and didn't have to buy anything, although Susan sat in a puddle of water and looked like she had dirty pee pants. hahaha

Sunday was the 4th of July and it was cold and cloudy. Susan and Dave went to the zoo, but I was hoping it would get sunny and the rest of us went to La Jolla. As soon as we got out of the car, we got back in. It was just too cold to beach. We shopped at the outlets and got taquitos at Rubio's... the better West Coast Taco Bell apparently. Then we moseyed back to the hotel and went to the Strip Club for dinner. There were old school pin up girls on the wall, but no strippers, just strip steaks for $10 that you grill yourself during happy hour. Kind of amazing even though I don't like steak. I had a $5 martini instead. That night we all piled into the car and went to Shaun's friend's house party in Pacific Beach (PB if you're a local). I was cranky because I missed most of the fireworks waiting around for everyone to get ready. The house was frat-like and there was a sedated pit bull in the corner and people talking about Molly... HOWEVER they had a DJ and he was spinning and mixing and smokin a bong at the same time! They also had a view of the bay from their frat house in the hills with a pool and hot tub. Susan fell asleep on a lawn chair so we went home before the E arrived. Good call!

The 5th was our last morning in San Diego, sad face. We got a rental and Shaun drove us to Santa Barbara. Lots of traffic and I had to take Dramamine from the stop and go, so I fell asleep for a long time. In Santa B, we had dinner with Susan's friend at an Italian Place in the little downtown area. There wasn't much going on near our crappy hotel, so Shaun and I took a walk to the pier and had a drink as pretty much the only people in the restaurant.

Tuesday was a good drive, through the prettiest part of the country I've ever seen. I did the drive up Highway 1 when I was about 12, and I remembered wanting to move to Northern California, Big Sur and Carmel. It's still where I'd like to end up when I'm retired (not much to do job-wise). We stopped and took pictures along the way, attempted to go to Hearst Castle, but the wait was long, so instead we had lunch and hiked down a cliff to the ocean. I didn't think I could do it, especially in a dress but I did and only had a small battle wound from when Susan gave me some "help" getting onto a boulder and boosted a little too much. We had dinner in Carmel and walked around the cottages and beach, then did the 17 mile drive and stalked mansions and seals.

Hours later we got to San Fran. It was more city than I expected, basically like NYC, so I didn't really like it upon arrival. We stayed at the Crescent, a newish boutique hotel. I'm not sure if I wasn't impressed because I came from The Keating... or if it was truly sub-par. The room was clean but small. I really think the building is haunted. Not just because it's really old and refurbished and the hallways are pitch black and creak... I swear I heard someone open the bathroom door when I was in the shower and Shaun woke up in the middle of the night and thought the room was filled with smoke. WTF.

The room was meh, but the staff was bad. If you're in the hospitality industry, I'm fairly certain you're supposed to be hospitable. When I first walked into the lobby, the people at the desk looked at me like I was lost. We asked them to book us a trip to Napa as they said they could via email, and we had to remind them the next day. No one had confirmed. When we still didn't hear from them, we went to the desk. The manager was there alone, and had no idea what we were talking about or how they book tours. I asked if I could call myself and pointed to the brochure on his desk, and he said sure... I gave him a look like, really? You're going to let a guest make their own reservations? So he called while we stood there and waited. Lamesauce. When we walked upstairs (because the elevator was broken), we found that our room hadn't been made up... it was at least 6pm. Isn't that the worst when you expect a fresh made bed? Sheesh! We had to call the desk once again and they sent someone up and made another excuse about being understaffed. Perhaps they could hire some of the unemployed who loaf around on the sidewalks outside their doors?

Wednesday Shaun made me have a gross Irish chicken sandwich for breakfast, because he wanted to watch the World Cup and we didn't know where to go. I had a screwdriver to make up for it and then got cupcakes for everyone. We went to the Ferry Building and Fishermans Wharf and took a boat tour around Alcatraz, but didn't get to go there because it was booked. Shaun and I had dinner at Level III, this fancy hotel restaurant and Zillow'd how much houses cost in Malibu and Carmel (too much). But San Diego is affordable!!

Our last day on the Golden Coast was spent in Napa. We took a bus tour and it was actually hot outside for the first time since we arrived in CA. We went to three wineries. The best was Madonna Estate, second oldest in Napa Valley... we ordered 6 bottles. We'll have to go to lots of BYO places I guess. We also went to Sutter Home. They invented White Zinfandel by accident back in the day. Our driver was pretty great, because he knew about a billion facts and should probably be on Jeopardy. For dinner we had Cheesecake Factory (everything for everyone on their 50 page menu!). Shaun and I had to leave at 5:30 am, but I think we were ready to go especially because we were headed to Avalon NJ for the weekend. SF was okay, but I thought I would like it more. As Mark Twain said, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco."

I still want to move to San Diego and retire in Big Sur/Carmel. Oh, and I want to live at a vineyard in Napa somewhere along the way. Meanwhile I'm sweating in 90 degree Jersey friggin' City with strep throat. As Biggie once said, I'm going, going back, back to Cali, Cali. Now, Now please?

FML is right.

I get to see this everyday now at my subway stop since the L/VW merged..... as if I don't already think "Eff my life" everytime I ride the subway, with the rats and personal space invasion, and wild mouse stop and go roller coaster ride. Seriously, FML. I love you NYC, OMG WTF.

How To... Be A Happy Buddha

For the past three days, I attended lectures by the Dalai Lama at Radio City: teachings on Nagarjuna's Commentary on Bodhicitta and A Guide to the Bodhisattva's Way of Life by Shantideva. I didn't know what to expect, but I was thinking I would learn the secret of life and something new that would help me rise above the cubicle, New York crowds, petty problems, and selfish people. I was hoping it wouldn't be totally over my head. The first day, I got there at 8:30AM, and the first lecture lasted until 11:30, then the next one was from 1:30-3:30. I kept nodding off, and I was so tired and relaxed with the red and yellow warm colors, the Tibetan music and voices, and this echo chanting sound that resonates through Radio City. People were bowing and crying, and I felt sort of out of place, but fairly zen.

Richard Gere was there, and I kept hoping Julia Roberts in hooker garb would come onstage and entertain us. My mind kept wondering, and the Dalai Lama mentioned "Delhi" and all I could think of was what kind of sandwich I would order. He was a funny little man, wearing a visor which looked like a Red Sox hat. He kept laughing. Sometimes I couldn't understand his English, but he had a translator he used more often in Days 2 and 3. However, he would go on and on and on in Tibetan for many minutes at a time, which was the perfect opportunity to cat nap. It was very hard to stay conscious. His voice was deep and lulling, like Saruman the White, from Lord of the Rings, only the opposite of evil. He reminded me of Yoda. It was uncanny. He really was a happy Buddha. At the end of each day, he walked to the end of the stage and kind of waved at everyone and said "Hi." Then he shooed us away for lunch.

On the second day, I took notes to stay awake and I also drank coffee before the first session which helped. He talked about striving to feel and realize the self, which is emptiness, but not nothingness. There's a difference, because emptiness is part of life and the ultimate reality. We exist in dependence on the physical and mental aspects of ourselves, but when we die, the soul or emptiness continues. We're supposed to meditate to learn to tap into that emptiness, because it's the true peace.

Ignorance is the cause of suffering, because reality is distorted without the wisdom of karma and emptiness. Once these are understood, we're able to support and protect other people with compassion and kindness. We become more honest, and we're able to trust and respect. Afflictions, such as attachment to people or things, anger, and fear become less solid but will always be there, because is it part of life, the result of many conditions. We're supposed to recognize the destructive nature of hatred, rage, and greed (deadly sins) and not let them reign, by practicing patience and looking at the big picture which reminds us that these feelings are temporary and irrelevant, even an illusion because emotions d0 not exist independently. We have to guard our minds against these things every second.

The Evils: Attachment, Aversion, Ignorance

The Antidotes: Solitude, Patience, Wisdom

It's very mundane to base happiness on receiving praise, success, or money, while our enemies suffer. Or if our enemies succeed, we feel dissatisfied. This cycle destroys peace of mind. We need to be happy despite circumstances. Even if we can't feel compassion for someone, we at least shouldn't feel anger because it only destroys us. Be grateful to enemies, because they give us a chance to practice patience and resilience. There are many more causes for suffering than causes for happiness, but we still have to hope for the best, while preparing for the worst. Difficulties make us wiser and stronger and closer to the ultimate reality (lucid, undefiled mind/soul). Suffering becomes easier and through suffering, our arrogance goes away and is replaced with joy.

If there is a remedy, there is no need for frustration.

If there is no remedy, there is no need for frustration.

Day 3 was the best, because he applied the more abstract teachings to daily life. He said that any religion is only effective in relation to an individual's spiritual inclinations and mental disposition, justifying the existence of all world religions and beliefs. He said it's important to experiment, question, and learn until you understand what is best for you. This is something I never heard in church, which is the reason I stopped going. The Dalai Lama basically says it's okay to be a Doubting Thomas. It's not about literal translations or one religion being the right one, or the best one. It's about finding beliefs that are suitable to you by relying on your own criteria and reasoning. This seems far more advanced and wise than the belief system I was taught, in which you go to hell if you aren't Christian... The roads to hell are paved with the remains of those who thought they were right.

If we have confidence that we can achieve the highest state of being and make an effort, we will find the strength to do it. Specifically, the best daily practice is to eat a light vegetarian dinner at 7, go to bed at 10, and wake up early to meditate, which is focusing on the simple present without a thought about the past or future. The present is uncontrived. You can start with a mental image of a light or point on the body and then try to reflect on the deeper emptiness of the mind. Sounds easy enough to me.

Donnie Trump's New Resident...

I've been meaning to update for weeks and weeks now, but alas, they blocked blogspot at work. Anyway, life is suddenly completely different. I got accepted to George Mason and Johns Hopkins. I decided against Hopkins because it's an MA, not MFA, so I would still need to also get an MFA or PhD afterward to teach at a college level. The MFA is terminal, so I get that in two years, and I'm set. I went to visit Mason, and I don't know, I just wasn't feeling it. It was small, there was one coffee shop open, I would need a car, the traffic in Fairfax, Va was pretty horrendous, and I was probably comparing it to the glorious diploma factory that is Penn State. I applied to 7 schools, and basically had two choices in the end. Go to Mason, or defer and re-apply next year. So then I got back to Hoboken on Sunday, and packed everything I own and moved to Jersey City on Friday. It seems my decision is made. I'm staying here until further notice. I moved in with Shaun. It reminds me of that Friends episode where Chandler moves in with Monica, and she kind of dramatically cries, "And I have to live with a boy!" So far I live alone actually, because Shaun had to throw everything in here Friday then go back to Philly then to NH til tonight but then I will actually be living with a boy for the first time since I was 6.

Friday, the Beverly Hillbillies moved out of Philly, out of Hoboken, and into Trump Plaza, Jersey City. Not even joking, we used a 1950's pick-up truck too. These people probably never saw anyone move themselves in without a moving company. We got lots of sneers and sniffs. Shaun had so much stuff that he filled the moving truck, so our plan to load my stuff in the same truck and then move in at the same time failed. We had to move him in, which took until 4, and we weren't supposed to move after 3:30 because Trump doesn't want to disturb the residents. Then we went back to Hoboken, loaded all of my stuff, and drove back to Trump. We had a truck load of stuff, hadn't eaten all day, and they told us we couldn't move until Monday.... I freaked out, and we didn't listen. Four of us loaded the pick up truck, drove up through the parking deck to our floor, and very quickly unloaded into the apartment. It was like a heist, and we should've worn black, masks, and gloves. We made two trips and actually got it all in. Then it was like 9pm, and we finally ate dinner. I spent the the entire day yesterday unpacking the mountains of boxes alone. It was fine though, because at least there was no one for me to boss around. I have OCD, and an insane drive to get things done immediately. I'm making a conscious effort not to make Shaun move the furniture, finish unpacking his stuff, take out the recycling, order the couch, and fix things as soon as he walks in tonight. Friday my mom is coming from Seattle (not just for me), and she's going to help me clean my old room in Hoboken and finish settling in here. I feel much more relaxed living here. It's nice not to have to be polite or walk on eggshells around anyone. It's just our apartment, where we live, not communal living. It's an interesting feeling, because I almost feel grown up or more settled. I don't have to wake up at 1am to a roommate stomping around or worry that I'm bothering someone if my music is on or I want to watch a movie in the living room or cook something. I can just do whatever I want in my underwear, even. I highly recommend this if you currently live with roommates.

I don't have any friends that live in JC, but it's a 5 minute light rail ride to Hoboken. I need to explore the neighborhood, because I don't even know where the grocery store is or the train to work. We also have a pool, grotto and gym which I haven't used yet, but that will be good incentive for everyone to visit I hope. It's basically like living in a hotel. And no, we're not selling crack. We're just in the right place at the right time. Shaun rented his condo out finally for a year, and his friend that owns this apartment said it was open and gave us a good deal. I'm saving money actually from what I was paying in Hoboken, only it's a billion times better. What's weird though is that the washing machine is European and I'm the queen of laundry, and I had to Google how to operate it. I'm guessing most people in this building have maids, so they don't complain. I'm sure I'll be lumped in that category of "Rich Snobby Ungrateful Pain in the Ass" and Shaun will be "Arrogant Jerk Coke Dealing Yuppie Wall Street Baller." This should be a fun year.

Shameless Plug...

It could be worse. I could be Nike and Tiger right now...

Just remember that.

I'll be your BFF if you vote for our media plan of the year!

1. Go here: Media Plan of the Year

2. Click 'the gate.'

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Note the New Link!

http://ricellyn.blogspot.com/

This way I can be a digital BRAND. I am now RICELLYN: blogger, Tweeter, Facebook creeper, Myspacer, Blipper, Yelper, JPG Magger, and Lala playlist maker extraordinaire. Or something.

Warning: If you Google Ricellyn though, that Friendster chick is NOT me. Proceed with caution.

$1896 / 1br - Perfect Luxury Condo (Hottest Neighborhood in Philly)

Craiglist is a funny forum. If you want to post an apartment for rent, you can only do it once, OR you can change the ad so much that Craig THINKS it's different listing on his list. Shaun is trying to rent his condo in Philly, and he's been trying for a couple months now, so naturally he's written MANY different listings for the same place. Last night he asked me to help him. I started by saying "Perfect," and the ad evolved into this:

stop looking and start spending. the recession is over. have yourself a merry bachelor pad in nolibs or a sweet couples retreat in an urban jungle oasis of love. the modern industrial loft comes complete with silver appliances, golden floors, and a platinum lifestyle. there are many good bars and restaurants in the neighborhood including Delilahs and palmers social club.

The hardwood ceilings are made of solid English Oak from Sherwood forrest. Which reminds me of my motto. Rob from the poor and give to the rich. Guess which one I am?

Did I mention that the building also has a zoo, thats right, a cougar right next door.

From the loft, you can easily survey your kingdom with views of both the front and back living havens. You also have a decisive advantage if a home invader were to break in.
Have no fear the community is gated, which means that not everyone can get in.

the shower always has strong water pressure and the both toilets always flush.

Hey, did i mention the game room. Games include darts, twister, and chinese checkers.

Do you have a car, NO! Then please proceed to next posting. If your answer is yes then you have found the ultimate crib. Thats right I said crib. One FREE parking spot is included.

But wait, there's more. If you sign a year lease in the next 7 days you will recieve one free ShamWow (tm) and use of a pool table for the duration of your stay. i will even throw in 4 sticks and balls that glow.

Rent Now or Forever Hold Your Piece. (By Piece, I think he means Peace. Ha.)

Rittenhouse, Old City are fun but not quite as cool anymore. The Art Museum Area is cool, if you like going to art museums. im not sure if queen village or society hill is safe anymore with all of the flash mobs on the rise. if you're one of those people who crave a cheese steak at 4am then south philly is the place for you. if you are still interested in pledging a fraternity then manayunk or fishtown is the place to be. if you plan on living in summit park or anywhere in south jersey please feel free to call my hotline for psychiatric therapy. if you live in the northeast, then you probably stopped reading this a long time ago and are thinking of ways to get the hell out of your neighborhood.

The best part is that someone responded and wants to lease it for a year.... hopefully they aren't aware that Delilah's is a sleazy strip club in the hood. The man who wants to rent it signed his email "God Bless." Also luckily, we took out the part about the stripper pole. That's just asking to be struck by the fist of the Almighty right in the face. This listing is obviously a joke, but none of it is untrue. I guess we need to purchase a ShamWow and Chinese Checkers ASAP. (In real life, if you know of anyone looking to rent a condo in Philly, let me know. It's actually awesome.)

Coyote Ugly, NYC.

I'm sitting in a cafe with free wifi in the Flatiron District, drinking a hibiscus steamer, listening to The Decembrists "The Hazards of Love" album, hoping to stimulate the creative juices, but I have writer's block. Isn't that so typical New York City? I'm aware of how hipster that sounds. It makes me cringe. Instead of writing for the book, I sent numerous emails, and now I'm writing this blog post. The procrastination is coming along fabulously!

This weekend, my sister and college friend came to visit. On Friday, we went to see Mark Williams at The Bitter End. We've been seeing him perform since he was 12, and now he's an 18 year old rock star. Next time they go on tour, I'm going to be the tour mom and make sure they all wake up on time and shower. I'm so excited. Concert was awesome, except they charged us $84 for 8 drinks and 2 Sprites. Each drink was $6.50 (somehow including the Sprite), so that equals... $65. I used a calculator to be sure. Besides the fact that Sprite should never cost $13, I asked the waitress who looked like Victoria from Twilight, and she said,"There's a $10 service fee." Okay, why? That's not even a 20% tip, but you're clearly not getting anything extra now. We're up to $75. Was tax $9? Why not include tax in the price of a drink? Sense, it makes none. I thought the service fee was because 19 year old Sarah asked for a beer and didn't have wristband, to which the waitress responded, "Another $6.50 Sprite then?" She was mean. Sarah did get good Karma when she got a free cheeseburger and fries at McDonalds though.

Saturday, we went to brunch with Mark, and then I spent four hours making a cake. I was attempting to make a cake that mimics the chocolate peanut butter candy cakes by Tasty Kake. It worked, except melting chocolate is no small feat. It turned into powder, so I mixed it with milk. It worked, sort of.

For dinner, we went to Charritos, in Hoboken. I'm not a fan of Mexican, but this was the real deal. The space only fits about 20 people, and you sit on benches with pillows. It's BYO, but they will make you margaritas or sangria if you provide the alcohol.

Fun, tragic fact of the day. There are coyotes in Manhattan. I know, I didn't believe it either. It came in through the bathroom window (Holland Tunnel). Then it went on the lam (lamb? sheep's clothing literally?), until it got tired and went to nap under an Escalade in a parking garage. Then cops killed it. I know they say they just tranquilized it, but this picture is NOT flattering. Anyone who sleeps like that is dead. I'm sorry, but it's true.

This makes me laugh.

I Spy Something Spring

It's really spring already? I don't want to believe it, because if it snows again, my Seasonal Affective Disorder will return with a vengeance. It's chilling below the surface right now, just waiting for a chance to pounce like a Frida and leap like a pony back into my psyche. I feel like March flew, which never happens. What's going on? Last weekend, I had fro yo in Hoboken then laid by the river, as if it was July. Now I'm wearing a scarf, but at least it's sunny.

Spring in New York makes me want to restart my life. For example, I signed up for a bunch of new blogs and websites about NYC, so I know what's going on, where all the new spots are, and I can break the old habits of sitting in my cube all day, then going home to do chores and Pilates. I love this city so much more after happy hour. It's true, but don't worry, I won't be drinking every day or even most days. It's almost bathing suit season. Nom nom! I love summer.

Argo Tea in the Flatiron Building has a seasonal delight called Green Tea Strawberry Creme. WOW! WOW! WOW! "We've created the perfect recipe of green tea, seedless strawberry puree, vanilla and creamy milk that's delicious hot or iced. Enjoy the sweet, exuberant taste of spring in a cup!" They're not kidding. My office is on Madison Square Park. Hold up. I mean my cube is in the middle of the room, without a view and sun rays can't even reach me in this gray high walled box in which I dwell. To rephrase, my office in which my cube is lodged is on MSP. There's always an art exhibit, sometimes wacky sculptures, and last summer there was a colorful seating area built around a tree. I enjoyed that, because I could eat lunch there, and little kids and dogs were always playing in the rubber sand pit thing which was funny. This year, however, Antony Gormley and his "Event Horizon" diddy makes me not want to eat in the park or stroll through the park or even cry when pigeons fly at me in the park... at all. He made 30 something bronze statues of himself, anatomy and all, and placed them on the edges of skyscrapers, including on the top of Flatiron, there are some on sidewalks in the way really, and some just creeping around various areas of the park. It's disturbing, I have to say. It definitely messes with perceptions and people are talking about it, so I guess it is "art," but I didn't like it when I saw the first statue and thought someone was committing suicide in front of me. That's not exactly a good day. I'm hoping there wasn't a hidden camera on 5th Ave. when I looked up with fright, eyes wide, mouth agape, cell phone in hand about to dial 911.

In other news, I'm trying to go to FL for the weekend of April 23rd and San Diego in July. I somehow made it through winter without going anywhere. I usually go away in March, but life was too chaotic. The school thing isn't panning out as planned, so I'm trying next year I guess. Meanwhile, I have a few ideas up my sleeve, including come up with an entrepreneurial idea and retire early (I spelled that word right without spell check, I feel as though I'm on the right track). I'm reading "The Art of Happiness" / Dalai Lama and he says I have to expect people to be compassionate and kind, and then I will be too. I should think about people who have less, so I feel better, and do things that make me feel fulfilled. I should start saying hi to everyone like my dad does, and lay on the beach all day.

Unless some graduate school miracle occurs, I'll be in NY for another year it seems. I need a new neighborhood, either a new job or more excitement about my current one, and a Dalai Lama in my pocket. I should be able to soldier on. When life hands you lemons, slice them up and have a vodka soda on some trendy ass rooftop in Tribeca.

Operation: Optimism

I just watched this documentary called No Impact Man. This NYC guy spent a year making his family totally green. They had no garbage, so think about that: no paper products, no packaged food, no new clothing. No carbon emissions or pollution: no elevators (they live in a 9th floor walk-up), no plastic bags. They ate local food from the Union Square farmer's market, but no meat or fish. Tell that to the asshole in California serving endangered whale at his sushi restaurant... No TV, no electricity for 6 months, they used a cooler for a refrigerator. No cars, airplanes, or subways. They rode bikes. They also aren't cracked out hippies with nothing better to do. His wife was a writer at BusinessWeek, so pretty typical Manhattanites.

There's tons of easy little things we can all do to save energy, protect the earth and all that jazz. I've always freaked out when someone doesn't recycle a plastic bottle. I feel like it's one of the most ignorant things in the world, but why not just NOT use plastic? Carry your own Siggbottle or coffee cup, since it's bad to drink sugar anyway. Also don't use plastic bags, there's no point or reason, plus carrying canvas reusable bags is easier. Less arm muscle strain. We can also turn off lights, heat, AC, print only when necessary at work, walk more, and buy local food, instead of nasty frozen food. I hate cooking, but how hard is it really? I've been thinking about going back to vegetarian recently, due to food poisoning from chicken and I feel sick if I eat red meat. When I was a senior in high school, I was a vegetarian because I worked in a restaurant and that's what seeing a giant paint bucket full of raw sausage will do to you. For real though, I had more energy and felt healthier than ever. For that entire summer, I played 6 hours of tennis a day then waitressed til close. The funny thing is that once you give up something, after awhile you adjust and you don't miss it. I'm not preaching, just saying. At least I'll feel better if I'm more conscious of what I'm doing in life.

I'm thinking I need a new career I actually care about, so I stop stressing so much and dreading life. I haven't decided what though, since I've been fairly apathetic ever since I left college. The real world has that effect, especially if you're so lucky to still have a job working for The Man. I might teach, until I come up with some idea I can use to have my own business.

WHO KNOWS I'm just tired of being stressed. Everything is so pending and unsettled. I miss being optimistic and idealistic. How do I get it back?

Recession Special....

Shaun took this picture last night, while waiting for a bus.....

Here's McLovin, a 25 year-old Hawaiian organ donor.

Lay down your pitchforks. I'm not moving to Iowa. Effing place rejected me. I knew I hated them for beating Penn State, plus who wants yellow as a school color? Only the worst schools have that.. cough...Michigan.. cough, cough, cough. I go back and forth between knowing I won't get accepted anywhere since it's so competitive and similar to winning the lottery, then feeling like I'm cocky for even applying, followed by a rush of wind and a shatter which is my dreams being crushed. Some days I forget why I applied in the first place, since the thought didn't cross my mind until a year ago, then I read a book and rationalize that I could never write with such attention and dedication, while being clever and fresh. Most days I'm just anxious, clutching my phone and staring at my inbox. If one more person tells me not to worry, I'll get accepted, I'm great enough, I will stab them with a proverbial pen, I swear to G. I should get used to rejection though, since all published people could paper their kitchen with rejection letters. I was just thinking it could be my ticket out of here (here = this career, routine, petty drama). Maybe my goals are too modest, and I should've moved to Europe after graduation to escape all things mediocre and predictable, but I guess in the end, that's a cliche too.

Today I may or may not have seen Mclovin, enjoying a pink cosmo at Heartland Brewery in Union Square. He looked a little older than I think the real Christopher Mintz-Platypus (whatever) is.

Then I bought myself a birthday present, because I was highly anxious after almost crying in a restaurant due to either empathy or anger or utter frustration at life. The glass of wine encouraged me, and the birthday discount from Anthropologie didn't hurt. I would like to work there. Anyway, I have a new mug that looks like a peasant painted it and a headband that cost more than a steak dinner. But you know what? I'm only 25 on the 25th once, and I'm not going to be in Vegas as I always dreamed I would be at midnight in 26 hours. So I don't care. At all. Ugh. I should move to Hawaii. I'm already an organ donor and now I'll be 25 too. Perfect.

True Life: Office Space

Email received today regarding an important meeting tomorrow:

In order for the office to look as busy as we are, we are in need of a few more live bodies to be bustling around and looking productive. If anyone has any friends, or enemies even, who happen to have a free morning and would like to come in from 9 to 10:30ish and earn $20 and a bagel (possibly a muffin), please let us know…

Please Fire Me.

Later that day another email...

Please make every effort to be here no later than 9am on Friday, even better - 8:45. I will be working in the "conference room" first thing in the morning. Please come visit me every fifteen minutes. Please wear shoes that make noise when you walk..

Hard to know what's a joke and what's real these days...to clarify, this actually happened.

Friday, I Wuv You and Hate You.

Fridays are a drag. I'm happy to have off for the next three days, but Fridays are either so stressful and busy because everyone procrastinates all week, or they're really slow and I want to sleep under my desk with the roaches, rather than stare at my uber bright computer screen for one more second.

Today's survival tips:

1. Actually read all the e-newsletters in your inbox. I'm somewhat fascinated by these manly anti-princess/unicorn/poodle cupcakes:

2. Go to lunch for once. Eat something besides yogurt and granola bars. Thai for example.

3. Create Pandora station based on the Original Broadway Cast Wicked soundtrack. It will play things from Rent, Glee, Lion King, Aladdin, and hopefully Hercules and Little Mermaid.

4. Join the Facebook group SECRET NEW YORK and make lofty plans to finally explore the city after 2.5 years of living here...starting with Chelsea Market.

5. Start watching the digital clocks on computer, phone, cell phone, and ipod and wonder if this is some kind of sick joke.

P.S. You know what this weekend is... so here you go. This will likely be my only mention of VDay unless I actually get shot in the heart with a real arrow, in which case I'll think of a humorous and dramatic play by play account and post pics of the surgical removal of said arrow.

It's a snow day, yet I made myself come to work, and then proceeded to procrastinate for much of the day.... what was the point of that?

Life is hard and complicated, but when it seems like a mess, I try to remember that it could be worse. It's also good to imagine earth from space. Then there's this: GUY

When I was in the middle of being a divorce kid (yes, that's the official label), I used to sit in my Dad's office alone from ages 11-17 and copy quotes from inspirational books by hand. In my novel, that is meant to be funny, but in reality, it kept me sane. I still do that and this is one of my favorite books for quotes: How To Win Friends and Influence People. I read it like 5 times at least. I definitely recommend.

For once, I think I'm pretty happy in life, and I'm going in a direction I'm excited about, but of course there are plenty of wrenches and banana peels thrown in the path. I guess it would be boring otherwise. I kind of miss home, and I keep having nightmares about family. It's likely fear of loss or change.

Quote I just came across: We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone - but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy.

Oh wait, what was the point of this post? Just me procrastinating more obviously. ugh.

When Dish Soap Freezes, It's Time to Use the Heat.

A few things: First, this morning at 1am I spilled Sonic Boom colored nail polish all over my room. That kicked off an awesome day in which the Path was slow, therefore packed. I actually saw a man wait on the edge of the platform until he heard the bell ring to close the doors and then he threw himself sideways into the car... knocking approximately 35 people out of the way. When I finally got to the city, I got coffee to help me stay awake after a very late evening. The coffee tasted like chemicals or bleach or possibly rat poisoning. I assumed it was from the throat spray with zinc I had taken the night before, but Shaun (ze bf) said he didn't notice any changes to his taste buds. I dumped the coffee. See ya later $1.75 . From now on, I'm going to the Starbucks on 5th Ave. and 29th Street. Here's why: whenever I get an afternoon drink, the girl who makes my coffee is so freaking nice. She says, "I hope it's perfect for you, have a great day! Sorry about the wait!" My God, where's the tip jar?

I got to work and already had two blinking, waiting, perky voicemails from sales reps. I checked them and ignored calls for the rest of the day. It rang more times than cabs honk in NYC.. okay that's an exaggeration, but still, it was a lot. I don't answer the phone on days that begin with M, T, W or F. Note to reps: I have caller i.d. Don't stalk me, or I'll take you off the plan.

Here's a truth: Lies The Teachers Tell You

Overheard in the boardroom: "We don't f***ing want to work with you, motherf***er." And that's why I need a career change. Also because of phrases like "halo effect" and "brand ambassador" and "bang for your buck." HUH? Still no word from schools. Help.

I want this:

What I really want is that stuffed animal maybe. I can't actually take care of it, nor do I want it to grow up.

Last weekend, Shaun, who is the best boyfriend ever, and I went to AC just because. I'm happy that he's spontaneous too. We had no idea there was a snowstorm there, but it was still really fun. We stayed in Brigantine, and one cab driver, when asked to take us there, said "No, no please. Please exit the car. I can't go there. No way, no how," as if we had asked him to drive us into the pits of Hell. We got out, after Shaun spilled his beer all over the car. It was an accident! Really! No, really. We got to the hotel, changed, and got a car back to Borgata. I lost $40 on the slots, and managed to lose my Borgata card within 4 minutes of receiving it. We sat with a table of making out girls wearing the sluttiest outfits I've ever seen, and I saw a middle aged woman hump the air for no apparent reason. I also got paraded through the poker room, and I am pretty sure I was mistaken for a rare cut of prime rib, judging from the looks on many faces. We left in a jiffy.

Dear Diary,

Next weekend is skiing in the Poconos with some PSU/Philly crew, and then Isabelle's shower on Sunday. I am excited! BYE. Oh yeah, and today I had coffee with Uncle Eric and his friend Leroy and we discussed the color of scrapple (squirrel color) and the joys of Pabst. ialso drank 44 ounces of Minute Maid Lite Lemonade from the fountain. After work, I made Cocoa Rice Krispies with Poofin and ate the heads off his Dino Nuggets. They were nom.

Love,

Yourself.