Some Good Music News

The following two posts are kind of sad. OK, one is sad, the other is mildly pathetic. So before you read those I thought I would share some fun music news. First of all, I am going to see Snow Patrol on Monday at the Madison Square Garden Theater. Yeah!! My friend Connie is coming with me and I think she loves Snow Patrol more than me. But a couple of weeks ago I had a dream that my mom and I were making the band dinner and I made a few song requests for the show. I'll let you know if they play "Cartwheels." Just so you know, they probably won't since it is not technically a Snow Patrol song. Gary Lightbody, the lead singer, wrote it for a side project called Reindeer Section. So, um, Gary, if your publicists check blogs and you come across mine please play "Cartwheels" on March 26th!!!!

Aqualung just released a new CD entitled Memory Man. The last CD was kind of low-fi and sleepy, although it has the best crush song ever ("Strange and Beautiful"). This new project is ore high-fi, with more energy and emotion. Check it out.

Saturday night I was trying to make a playlist for my roommate's St. Patrick's Day party and I thought I had enough Irish bands for the party. It turns out that I don't. My collection is heavy on music from the British Isles, but I was surprised that I had so many Scottish bands (Snow Patrol, Reindeer Section, Franz Ferdinand, Camera Obscura...). But the one I want to mention is Travis. I first heard this group when I lived in France, and I was very impressed. I just have a collection of top singles, but I have a huge list of must-buy songs that grows every time I hear another one on Accuradio. Then I heard some good news. On Sunday a girl at church told me that they are releasing a new album in May. Yippee. I checked out the website and found a link for the music video on YouTube. I am attempting to post it. If it worked you will have found it by now. Click on it, and hear the song. If not, I will attempt to post the link again. I know it's possible; people do it all the time. The best part of the new album is the eventual tour. Travis has not had huge U.S. success (which I am totally ok about), but they should make an appearance in NYC. Everyone comes here.

Except Keane. They did a small tour on the West Coast--my cousin Stephanie saw them and loved them--and they are headed to South America, Central America, and Mexico. But do they have plans to come visit me? No! Their Favorite Band For Life status is becoming a little tarnished. Keane, if your publicists are monitoring blogs: COME TO NYC!!!

He was a good dog

The sad thing about living so far away is that bad things happen like our dogs being put to sleep. And although dogs are important members of the family, we don't exactly get bereavement days for them. So I guess it is a good thing that my parents didn't call to tell me that our dog, Rime, was put down. I didn't want to be informed of the news at work. But I didn't want to be told via my parent's blog a week later.

Anyway, it will be sad when I go home next and won't have my little Rimey greet me excitedly as he used to. I think I was his favorite. Actually he was excited to see everyone. But Rime and I had a special bond; we would go on walks together. In full disclosure I must admit that I didn't want to take him on walks, but I didn't really have a choice. One day he literally demanded that I take him with me. So I did, and then everytime I went to walk he came with me. There was no hiding my intent to go outside. Rime knew which shoes and exercise clothes I used. As soon as he heard the swish of my pants his tail would start wagging, and he would also start barking if he thought I was taking too long to get ready. I couldn't even say the work walk or spell it. Although I didn't want to take him on walks at first, it became one of my favorite things to do.

I will miss my large, furry, white puppy.

The color the bag used to be


The broken joint

In Memoriam--My favorite bag

Every girl has a favorite bag...the go-to bag, if you will. Sometimes it is a fancy schmancy designer bag, and sometimes it is a knock-off. Nonetheless it is bag that carries everything. Trust me, girls carry everything in their bags--makeup, wallets, books, gum, new and used tissue, snacks... I had a similar bag up until March 10th, and then it died.

I purchased my favorite bag at Urban Outfitters a few weeks before I travelled to Austin, Texas for the Austin City Limits Music Festival. I needed a good solid bag for that event so that I could carry water bottles, sunscreen, camera, and other essentials for the coolest live music event ever. This bag was certainly the right size and it had plenty of pockets. I am a sucker for pockets. But what really sold me was the plastic coating. I realize that "plastic coating" does not equal classy, but I wasn't going for classy, I wanted hip and I wanted something that wouldn't get destroyed if some miscreant dropped their stinky beer on me. This bag had it, and we had a good time together. At the festival we saw some of our favorite groups: Keane, Aqualung, Coldplay, Franz Ferdinand, Death Cab for Cutie, Jet, and Oasis. The bag did so well that I took it to other concerts later on.

I also took it to work. It carried everything I needed: lunch, wallet, reading material. It was also my church bag; it fit my scriptures, Relief Society manual, etc. The bag was the perfect carry on bag for flights, so there was no doubt that it would go with me to New York. It came with me on job interviews because it was tall enough to not mush my resumes. I took it everywhere because, like I said, it carried everything I needed.

After a while I decided not to fill it up so much because my shoulders and back were hurting, but I didn't even realize that my little/big bag needed a rest. I didn't rest it enough, and it finally gave out on March 10th. That day I did tax it with a heavy burden. I needed to take some personal care items from the gym to my home for church the next day. It had a couple of brushes, hairspray, hair goo/pomade, a book, wallet, water bottle, gloves, hat, and scarf. Not only was it stuffed, I thought it would be fun to carry it all forty-some blocks from Union Square to Rockefeller center. I was tired, but I didn't know that I had done some damage to the bag. Later that night I swung the nearly empty bag over my shoulder and it came crashing down. Somehow the weight had stretched out the metal clasp and it no longer fit in its socket. I could put it back together, but it wouldn't stay--it was irreparably damaged...especially since I have no metallurgy skills. I am very sad and am without a favorite, go-to bag. Big sigh. I am currently using my computer bag for Sunday and days when I have to carry more, but it isn't the same. My computer bag isn't even as cute. It's like the red-headed step-child of go-to bags. Oh, I hope I didn't hurt its feelings. Soon after my mourning period is over I may go back to Urban Outfitters to see if they have more, and I may have to take it to Austin to have a real bonding moment.

Rest In Peace, little bag!

The View From My Window at WORK


This is not my, window...just my cubicle wall

NYC Rooftops

There are lots of water towers in the city

Cars lined up on 18th street between 5th and Broadway

Another thought and then I swear I will get back to work!

At the office we have a big TV that airs CNN all day long, and at my new desk I can get a better view. Today the channel has been covering a horrific bus accident in Georgia (the home state of CNN, fyi). All I have to say is, although this is a highly morbid thought, I am actually grateful for the bus accident coverage because it has entirely pre-empted any Anna Nicole Smith coverage.

I see the victims of this tragic accident as holy angels for saving us from further mind-numbing drama of crazy, drugged-up, faux celebrities.

Yes, I am fully aware that I will be struck by lightening at some point today.

Shhh...I'm supposed to be working

I need to remember to take my camera to work. Last Friday I changed desks to one with a window seat, and let me tell you, I have a pretty amazing view. No, I don't see the Empire State Building or any other cliche city landmark, instead it feels like I can see the whole city from my perch on the 16th floor. I can even see all the way to New Jersey--if you call that an amazing site.

I must say, I get a little thrill when I see the yellow cabs racing around the streets. Someday I will remember to bring in a camera to show you the view.

Good, lunch has arrived and now I can stop pretending to work. I hate pitching...especially now since I am recovering from a cold. Everytime I talk I have a coughing fit.

Snow falls in Washington Heights (Feb. 25)


This is the side of my neighborhood that I don't talk about much



Shoveled sidewalks




The Morris-Jumel Mansion blends into the background after our most-recent snowfall.

Cola-Flavored Slurpee World

The night before Valentine's Day New York was treated to a nice little snowstorm. Perhaps you heard about it...or at least the fallout regarding JetBlue's response to it. Anyway, I wasn't too excited about it, mostly because thanks to the Subway I don't get a snow day. If I still lived in Seattle, I would be staying home from work for sure. Instead I had to tromp around in the muck. Oh yes, I mean muck. I used to love the snow when it falls because it makes everything all pretty. Not so much in the city. As soon as those pretty white flakes hit the pavement they turn brown or sometimes yellow. OK, maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration, but sidewalks and streets don't stay empty long enough for the pristine joy of a fresh snowfall. The ensuing slush quickly turns brown (or yellow) and not so pretty. It also makes cola-flavored slurpees seem less appetizing.

The snow has made me miss my car. Luckily I bought snow boots just in time. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to buy any; snow boots are not cheap and they are basically ugly. I looked at a lot of boots but didn't really love any of them. Since New York was not getting any snow I was certain I wouldn't need any. Then it got very, very cold and two pairs of tights were not keeping my little legs warm. So I broke down and visited the 70%-ff sale at Shoe Mania, my favorite shoe store. I've gotten good deals there.

I didn't have much dinero for the purchase, but I found a black pair of Timberlands with a bit of faux-fur trim (although according to the news, my fur trim may be doggy fur). I really was hoping to avoid shearling and fur trim, but that was pretty much impossible because all the boots at the store where either Uggs, wannabee Uggs, fur-trimmed, extremely out of my price change, or just downright matronly. So I found my little boots. Sceptically, I tried on the boots. I looked at them in the mirror, walked around, but I was still unsure. What helped me purchase them? Well, a nice guy came up and said that he totally dug the ghetto Timberland boots matched with my totally punk fishnet stockings. I did not realize I was rocking a ghetto-punk look. (I guess since that is my typical look, I forget that I am just that cool...kidding). So of course I bought them.

My boots totally fit in my neighborhood, too. Well my boots do for sure, but a white girl in Timberlands creates a bit of a stir. I get a lot of stares when I walk around in them. No matter, they are keeping my feet and legs warm which is only slightly more important than how they look...just a smidgeon. The above picture does not really do them justice.

Can I do that...please?

I am home sick today, and to entertain myself I am watching Red Carpet footage from last night's Academy Awards. There were some fabulous dresses last night. Reese Witherspoon, Kate Winslet and Rachel Weiss looked amazing...as usual.

Anyway, the best part of the coverage? The Rembrandt toothpaste commercial that has a nice close up view of a couple kissing. I am embarrassed to admit that I will rewind it to watch it over and over again. (I love my DVR.) My wish for 2007 is to find a boy and recreate the commercial. As soon as it is time to buy new toothpaste I will purchase Rembrandt. (That is effective advertising!) If you have no clue to which commercial I am referring, I suggest you check it out on the company website or YouTube. I am sure there is a way to post it in the blog. Maybe someone can show me how.

Random entry, I know. Maybe it is the fever talking.

This summer at the Today Show. For some reason I look kind of chubby.

Art Deco decor at Rockefeller Center

The West Village: one of those when-I-grow-up-I-want-to-live-there neighborhoods

The Flatiron Building; thus called because it is flat

Bleeker Street, or the well-traveled road to Magnolia Bakery

Duh, the Empire State Building

A bank? A Museum? No, just Balducci's grocery store

Christopher Columbus getting dizzy watching the taxis drive in circles at Columbus Circle

Just a few reasons to come visit me!

Rosebud? The New Tower at the Hearst Building


The Original Six Floors of the Famous Hearst Building. These floors are a historical landmark and the exterior could not be remodeled

When I was a sophmore at BYU, I wanted to work at a magazine. That's why I started to study Communications. (That was the minor that accompanied my French major.) At the time I wanted to write the stories featured in magazines. Little did I know then that the people whe write in magazines are generally freelancers. I guess there is still time for that little dream, but I'm really not pursuing it at this time.

In Public Relations, however, I can kind of live this dream because part of my job is to get my clients into magazines. Case in point: this summer I spent a lot of time getting Rubbermaid products into magazines like O, Family Circle, Woman's Day, Real Simple, and Good Housekeeping. For the most part my job consists of calling up editors and selling them on the highlights of sundry Rubbermaid products. In July, however, we held a press event and invited important editors to look at Rubbermaid's new line of antimicrobial sinkware (i.e. dishdrainers, etc.). It was a fun project finding venues, putting swag bags together, and going to dinner with the spokespeople (Linda Koopersmith, Beverly Hills Organizer and Joan Kohn of HGTV). We had a good turnout at the event and several magazines were interested in putting the products somewhere in their magazines. Good Housekeeping was interested for other reasons: they wanted the products for the brand new test kitchens at the Good Housekeeping Research Institute. You know, the people that hand out the seal of approval? I think it is pretty cool.

After everything was all situated at the Hearst Building, Carolyn Forte, director of the cleaning product/appliances section, invited me and a colleague to tour the new facility. Happily, we set a date for after the holidays. I had never been to the Hearst building before, and I was very excited. It is hard to go to these buildings; the security is generally pretty tight. Someone in my office has said on many occasions that the Conde Nast building (publisher of Vogue) is more secure than Fort Knox. The security in these buildings makes PR work a little difficult because we can't just drop by and present stuff to editors. We will usually have to make appointments, have our names on guest lists, and carry seven different types of ID... Thus, an invitation to the Hearst Building is quite a big affair. (FYI, Hearst also publishes Esquire, O, Southern Living, etc.)

The Hearst building was recently renovated, and it has many neat, state of the art features like their fancy elevators. Instead of the typical elevator setup with the up/down buttons in the corridor and the button panel on the inside, each floor has a kiosk where you punch in the floor you want and it tells you which elevator to take. This is very fast and efficient, and way cool. Although out of habit, I felt like I needed to push a button inside the elevator.

After my coworker Shennell and I were wisked up to the Test Kitchens, our hostess Carolyn gave us a tour of the facility. They test pretty much everything up there. But most specifically, they test everything they advertise in their magazines (except perhaps for prescription drugs.) But if a specific cleaning product claims something special about their product, they make sure that the company is not lying. I think it is pretty neat.

Our Rubbermaid products looked very happy in their new environment helping Carolin test dishwashers and dish detergent. I didn't include pictures because they have strict rules about that. You will just have to trust me that they are there and thriving in their new home.

I also made some good contacts in case I ever feel like writing for a magazine. But in the meantime, I will just use this blog as a writing outlet.

Sometimes the only way to win the love of a nephew is by letting him play with your camera. Sometimes that is called a bribe.

This is Ezra (almost 2). He's an adorable little guy who was quite a hit with the ladies when we all gathered for my papa's funeral. Who wouldn't love a face like that? He has other charming features, like the way he says hello. It is more like "hellOOOOO!" He likes to talk on the phone. He'll say "helloooo" (of course) and a very cute "what doing?" He and his brother (and parents) live in South Dakota.

Traditions are a great part of being in a family. My family has one tradition that is a little odd, but loads of fun; we call it "arp." "Arping" is when we pinch someone's bottom and say "arp" in a mildly falsetto voice. I don't remember when it started, but we have great stories about it. One time when my brother was about four years old, we invited my sister's teacher over for dinner. This teacher hadn't been across our threshold for more than three minutes when my brother reached up and "arped" her. Fortunately this teacher had a good sense of humor and didn't fail Andrea. We all had a good laugh about it. Still do.

Anyway, Sam and Liz like to play "arp" and before they arrived at Christmas they had already planned to have an all-out "arp" war during the holiday. No one's bum was safe and pinching fingers were at the ready. It was a lot of fun; I'm glad that my family can be goofy like that.

Since I don't get to see my niece and nephews often, I really enjoyed the few moments we spent together.

These adorable, and kind of goofy kids are my niece and nephews. I got to see them this Christmas/New Years. The oldest, Sam (12) and Liz (9) live in Pheonix and I have not seen them since June 2005. Way too long. They somehow managed to get a lot taller in the meantime.

The baby is Wyatt, my brother's baby. I saw him for the first time in November and spent many moments holding him. I'm pretty fond of that little guy...and his brother. Well, to be honest, all my niece and nephews are pretty great. I just hope that I won't have to wait until next Christmas to see them. Luckily, both my sister (Liz & Sam's mom) and my sister-in-law (mom to Ezra and Wyatt) have blogs with pictures and anecdotes.

I'm your Dreamgirl

If you were at all wondering, I would like to reassure you that I still live in New York City. The city continues to be exciting, but I haven't taken the time to write in the blog. I assure you that as I walk around I try to observe things that may be of interest to all of you. So I am finally spending some time to write. I need to catch up with the past few months, but I will do that later.

Today a friend who is contemplating a big move out here asked about the cost of living in the city. I did not lie to her; it is not cheap. With taxes, rent, and groceries there isn't much money left for entertainment. That is why I have only seen one Broadway play--for free. The cheapest thing to do for fun in New York--besides staying home and watching TV--is going to the movies. At $11.00 a film, I don't go too often. I usually hold out for the movies I really want to see like Marie Antoinette and Stranger than Fiction.

Most suburban towns have quite the movie megaplexes--wide, expansive buildings with umpteen screens. Well, New York's megaplexes are not wide...instead they are tall. The first one I went to was one of the movie theaters on 42nd street. Generally it is best to avoid that area because it is crawling with tourists, but the movies houses down there aren't bad...if you happen to like really tall escalators. I don't really, and I had to go up three of them. One time I was going up the really tall escalator and someone shook it. That was not very nice. That movie theater is the favorite of my roommate Angie, and we have seen a few movies there. She generally will only see movies at that place.

I don't have any true movie theater preferences, but I must say that the Magic Johnson movie theatre in Harlem is right there as one of my favorites. Yes, I am referring to that famous basketball player. He does indeed have his own movie theater. There is even a mural of him in the building. I have only been there twice, but it is a treat! The first time I went there I saw Lady in the Water. The film wasn't super, but it was an entertaining experience. I went to the film with a group of kids from the ward. Let me preface by saying that we were not a multicultural group...except for Alejandro who is Puerto Rican by way of Miami. Still, he blends in well with the white folk because he is quite the sartorialist (fashionably inclined). As I mentioned earlier the movie was a bit of a dud...so how was the evening so fun? We were the main event. Let me tell you, a group of thirteen white kids in Harlem creates quite a scene. Cars would slow down as we walked along the sidewalk, people would stare, and kids would scream. OK I made up the last part. The funniest part was after we left the theater when a girl named Starr came up to talk to us. She first asked us where the party was. Then she commended us for hanging out in Harlem. She said that we should come to Harlem more often. We didn't tell her that half the people in our group actually lived in Harlem.

Last weekend I wanted to see the movie Dreamgirls, but I couldn't find anyone to go with me. I vascilated about going, but I really wanted to see if Jennifer Hudson was worthy of all the buzz. (She is so worthy!!) I checked out Fandango, and found that I was too late to make it to the 7:00 hour shows in Lincoln Center or 42nd Street; the next showings were at 11:00. I didn't want to stay out too late, but I was very pleased to see that the Magic Johnson had a showing at 8:20. I wasn't too sure about going there on my own. I could here my mom protesting all the way in Spokane. Which is why I haven't said anything about it...until now. Hi Mom. I called a few people for their opinion, and I was assured that at 8:00 (and 10:00) I should be fine. So after a brief detour to get some candy, I made my way down to Harlem.

The Magic Johnson is two blocks away from the World Famous Apollo Theater. I was afraid that I was a little late so I quickly got my ticket from a kiosk and went up the two escalators. I was the only white girl in the building, and I had a lot of eyes following me. I had to wait in a very long line for a bottle of water, and I missed the beginning of the trailers. I really hate missing the trailers.

The theater was crowded. Although the film has been in theaters for a while, it is still a popular choice in this neighborhood even though Stomp the Yard just opened. (In the refreshment area, most people were going to see that movie.) Luckily for me, a singleton, I was able to get a seat wherever I want...well, within reason. I can't just sit on anyone's lap. At first, I wasn't too sure I would get a seat. I asked one lady if the seats after the claimed ones were empty, and she just stared at me. I used other words, and she still stared. I don't even think she blinked. So I climbed on through to find out on my own. Turns out the seats were empty.

After a series of sadly forgettable previews the movie began, and so did the entertainment. I said earlier that movies at the Magic Johnson were a treat, and that really does not have much to do with the movie, but more with how the audience reacts. The patrons of the Magic J vocalize their sentiments very well. The laughs are louder, the cheers are more heartfelt, and the applause is more boisterous. But the best part is that the audience will at times talk to the screen. Sure, we all do that at home, but there is no holding back at the Magic J. Being at such a theater gives outsiders license to join the revelry. At least I certainly wanted to. However, I wasn't too sure I should laugh along with the crowd at the Martin Luther King joke. I didn't want to cross any lines. But I did clap at the end of each of Jennifer Hudson's songs. She was amazing! As I am sure you have heard from the critics, she outshined her cast. I was very happy that she won her Golden Globe.

I liked the movie, and suggest that you go out in see it in your neighborhood megaplex. I can't tell if you if the movie is just as good in a "normal" theatre. It could very well be that the movie was good because I saw it in Harlem. And Mom, I got home safe and sound.

In Memoriam

I was all gung-ho about completely catching up last week, but the week had other plans. Last Tuesday, November 7, 2006, my grandfather Max Arthur Abston passed away and I quickly flew to Spokane for the funeral. All my life us grandkids always called our grandfather "Papa." The night before the funeral, all eleven grandkids got together to plan the eulogy and make a list of our favorite memories. Even though most of my readers were at the funeral, I would like to share for those of you who did not know Papa.

Papa had a woodshop in his garage and he made all sorts of fun things for kids. He made trucks, trains, slides, play kitchens, Barbie houses--complete with furniture, and the world's largest deck. The deck was huge! Large enough for a handful of little tykes to have Big Wheel races around the perimeter. We often played CHiPs on that deck. (Yes, I am a child of the eighties.)

When I was on my church mission, and when I lived in France, Papa was my most faithful writer. Mostly he wrote about the temperature, mowing lawns, and beans. Beans were his favorite food. But I appreciated every letter; they were always filled with his love. He always showered his grandkids with lots of love. He would always say, "Hello sweet sweet" or "How's my favorite Meredith." (or insert the name of another grandkid.)

It was harder to say good-bye than I thought. He will be missed. The funeral was lovely, and I was very glad to see all my family (except for one brother-in-law, niece, and nephew who were dearly missed). I don't remember when we were last all together. We all got to take turns holding the new babies, we ate lots (which is normal for our gatherings), and remembered our dear Papa. So despite the very sad event, I was glad to be with my family. I didn't take a lot of pictures but I will be posting the ones that I have (or that have been forwarded by relatives) shortly.

The New York Marathon.
My knees cry just thinking about marathons. And my heart cries because it wants to run in one. Heck, at this point, I'd like to run down the street without knee pain.

I didn't see Lance, but I sure was hoping I would. Now I have tied the image to the cycling update.

The Votes Are In!

Actually only two people voted, and I am very proud of one of the votes. Sorry to say Kiki, it wasn't yours...but I am very happy you voted, and you will be rewarded.

The other vote was from the blog "Trust but Verify" (TBV) that writes about the Floyd Landis case. As you can probably imagine, I have it bookmarked and I read it everyday. Since I listed Floyd on my ballot of blog topics, TBV came upon it and voted for Floyd! I feel kind of proud, but also a little embarrassed in case he saw the cycling blog entry when I forgot Pat McQuaid's name and called him Dennis.

Trust But Verify is a great source of Floyd info because he scours all news stories, blogs, and whatnot about Floyd. He will publish the good and the bad, but like me this blog is very pro-Floyd. Look it up! Soon you will know that Floyd is innocent!

I wonder if Floyd scans the blogs and has found mine. In that case I am very embarrassed about my faux pas.

And now for the cycling update. Floyd and his defense team has released their defense to the public. I have read through a portion of the documents, and I firmly believe something fishy is going on at the infamous testing facility. The lab made grave errors, but I don't think they did it because a French cyclist didn't win (again). The French did better this year actually, I thought, though Thomas Voeckler is still not at the form he was in for Lance's 6th win. I think the whole mess is because of the McCarthy-esque witch hunt that the UCI and WADA are obsessed with.

The Italian sports authority (and I am not referring to the sporting goods chain) has decided that there is not enough evidence to convict Ivan Basso, so they have dropped charges (unless the Spanish authorities dig up real evidence). I was very happy. But then a few days later Team CSC and Ivan parted company. Now this is a bit of a conundrum, because CSC was my favorite team because of Ivan. I'll still like the team because of Dave Zabriskie, but I am about to pledge allegience to the team that picks up Ivan. There have been no team announcements yet because the UCI has not yet cleared Ivan. That organization has so conveniently forgotten all of his clean tests. If the anti-doping tests actually work...

Thanks TBV for the vote! Next up, Halloween!

The Garfleck Manse near the church


The Cougars are ready to score


Alicia and yours truly at the football game

I've just been scolded

I have been very lazy in writing about my New York adventures. Well, maybe "lazy" is not the best word. I think "too busy" works a bit better. On Monday I made a point to stay home at night, do laundry and catch up, and I even wrote about a trip to Boston. Somehow while writing I lost my wireless connection and I lost the entire post! So much for my good intentions. Now I get to try again and catch up.

So, where to begin? Maybe I'll just make a list of things and you guys can vote on what you want to read more about. I like this idea. Here's the list:
I went to Boston
I had my first guests to show around
I saw a Broadway play
More delicious restaurants
Halloween
I broke up with dessert
Floyd Landis/Cycling updates

I'll get everything started with my quickie trip to Boston. In September (yes, that long ago) I headed to Beantown. I found out that my cousin Alicia was going to be there to visit friends and go to the BYU/Boston College football game. Now, football is not one of my favorite sports, but I thought it would be fun to see my cousin. When I decided to go, I thought it would be great fun to take a train. Thanks to my time in France I have grown a great love for rail travel, and it is pretty popular here in the East Coast as well. However, it is not cheap. It would have cost about $200 for a trip to Boston which, by the way, is no great distance. Instead, I took the advice of my roommate and took the bus.

There are several bus lines in New York to help the car-less get to places like, Philly, DC, Montreal, and Boston. Buses are a lot less glamorous than the train but it was only $30 round trip--a definite bargain. Let us keep in mind, however, that you get what you pay for. For example, I got four and a half hours with my knees jammed into the seat in front of me.

The most famous of the bus lines are the ones based in Chinatown. In fact, the phrase "Chinatown Bus" describes any of the lines commencing in that neighborhod of NYC. The two lines that go to Boston are the Fung Hua and the Lucky Star. (Yes, I think of the early eighties Madonna song when I mention the Lucky Star.) Both bus lines offer the same features: low price, seats that don't have a lot of leg room, and a brief stop at a Chinese buffet in Connecticut. I decided to go with the Lucky Star, and it was not because wanted to hum Madonna during the trip. The week before my trip one of the Fung Hua buses overturned on the way back from Boston. That helped the decision process. You may be wondering how I enjoyed my meal at the Chinese buffet. Well, truth be told, I didn't eat at the buffet. I generally don't eat at Chinese restaurants that have tator tots next to the fried rice.

My time in Boston was pretty short because most of my trip was spent at the football game or at church. The game was good, as far as football games go. In the end BYU lost, but they lost in double overtime; so it was exciting to the end. To be honest, by the time the second overtime came around I didn't care who won. I should have kept that little secret quiet because a few people questioned my loyalty to my alma mater.

Saturday night after the game Alicia, her friends, and I had dinner in cajun/mexican restaurant in Harvard Yard (Square? I really wasn't there long enough to remember.) I was ready for dinner because we didn't have much to eat throughout the day, and if you know me you will also know that I need to be well-fed in order to avoid a low-blood sugar disaster. Normally when the blood sugar levels dips I start crying. On rare occasions I turn into the spawn of Satan. And that is what reared its ugly head at the restaurant. The restaurant was crowded, and we were lucky to get a table for nine, even though we had a wait a while to get it. Finally it was our turn, and we had to elbow our way through the throng to get to our table. The restaurant has a policy that it will not seat a party until everyone was present. We were all there, but only some of us were better at pushing through the hordes of hungry people. When only four of us made it through, the host asked if we were all there. I said, yes, the rest will be there soon. Then he told us the house rule that everyone had to be there. And then I snapped. Out of nowhere Angry Meredith came out and yelled at him, and said that we were all there but they were having troubles getting through the crowd. Doesn't seem that mean, right? On paper, no, but I must have been vicious because the restaurant manager ended up seating us. I also managed to have the blow-up in front of a group of servers, including the one assigned to our table. He jokingly asked if I was going to yell at him too, and from that point on I was worried that someone was going to spit in my food. I don't know if anyone actually did, and my pulled beef enchilada was delicious. I did apologize to the host on our way out.

Thoae were the memorable highlights of my trip to Boston. Like I said, I didn't have time to see the historic locations in Boston. But I did see Ben Affleck's/Jennifer Garner's house. I'll see the more important stuff on my next trip to Boston.

So now that you have read this, please write a comment and vote for the next entry. Will it be my first broadway play or my feelings about a tough break-up? Did I go trick-or-treating? You vote, I'll write.

Union Square Market

I have come to the conclusion that New Yorkers have stronger forearms than everyone else in the nation. We don’t have the luxury of car trunks to stash our groceries; we usually have to carry them from the store, down the block, up the stairs, and finally into our kitchens. Granted, if we purchase too much we can either hail a cab or have our wares delivered, but people on a budget generally buy as much food as they can carry in a small grocery basket, and haul it home by foot (or subway and foot). After a particularly heavy basket, my forearms tend to feel the burn on the way home.

I have a couple of grocery stores within walking distance from my little apartment. C-Town is the closest, but I only go there if there is some kind of food emergency. It doesn’t have a lot to choose from, but the worst part about it is the smell. It smells like rotting food. Once I bought ice cream—a pint of Ben & Jerry’s even—and it tasted like that C-Town smell. I feel o.k. buying canned goods from the store, but absolutely refuse to buy produce or meat. So I generally walk up seven + blocks and go to Gristede’s. Still not Whole Foods (which I go to for soy milk and whenever I am feeling the need for luxury), but leaps and bounds better than C-Town. It smells tons better.

I went there yesterday, in fact, to get ingredients for some vegetable soup. I am so glad it is fall, and I can spend my weekends making yummy, hot soup. Since I knew my groceries were going to be heavy I grabbed a denim grocery bag that my mom made for me. A couple of years ago, I asked my mom to make me re-usable grocery bags for Christmas. I wanted to do my part for the environment. Funny thing though, I rarely remembered to bring them with me when I made my weekly trip to the store. (Sorry mom.) Even in NYC I tend to leave them at home, but that is mostly because I go to the store rather spontaneously. Good thing I heeded the promptings within that told me to bring a denim bag to the grocery store.

My grocery basket included, fresh green beans, tomatoes, apples, wheat crackers, celery, pasta, Glad ® freezer bags, two cans of tuna, a large can of tomato sauce, and five cans of beef broth. It was my heaviest basket ever, and I was not really looking forward to carrying it home. Then I remembered my denim bag, and felt a little bit more optimistic. You see, mom made it with longer handles, so I could carry it over my shoulder.

I stood in a very slow checkout line, and finally it was my time to pay. I am sure the cashier is a fine person, and perhaps he gets decent grades in school, but the kid really wasn’t too bright. As he packed up my groceries he put ALL of the heavy canned goods in one bag instead of dispersing them throughout. What was even funnier was that he informed me that he was going to do that for me. I remarked rather sarcastically, “Right, because that will make it easier to carry.” HE ACTUALLY BELIEVED IT WAS BETTER THAT WAY. My poor little forearms! But “A-HA!” I remembered my mom’s bag, and I stuck the canned goods in there. It was a heavy load, but I was at least able to carry it over my shoulder.

So, thank you mom for the best Christmas present ever. My arms thank you. Maybe, though, if I stay here long enough I will turn into one of those older ladies who use a wheeled basket for their trips to the market. Of course I will have to make sure that that certain checkout boy doesn’t do something do something lame again and place the heavy food on top of the bread and eggs.

Body Sculpting

When I moved to New York I stopped going to the gym. I kept my membership at Bally's for a while until I decided that I could not carry everything I owned from the gym to my place of employment (7 big blocks), and plus the Bally's I went to was dark, dank, and didn't have any good classes in the morning or after work. So instead I joined a Crunch gym that was not even finished. I spent an entire summer without working out. I didn't even gain weight. Granted, I am walking around a lot more, but I am not eating as healthy as I used to. I don't get it.

But I am back at the gym now. Crunch finally opened its doors, and I now have the task of making workouts part of my schedule. It is hard, I am having a hard time getting out of bed or being motivated after work. Skinny jeans helps the motivation process. You may wonder why I chose Crunch over Bally's when I decided that working out is a necessary part of my life again. Well, Crunch is only 4 short blocks from work and they will soon be renting out lockers, thus I will eliminate that whole carrying everything I own back and forth. They also have hair dryers, towels, shampoo, conditioner, and lotion, so I actually have less to carry anyway. All they need to do now is put an Aveda, Sephora, and Saks in the locker room, and then I'll only have to bring my undies and a wallet. Crunch also is famous for its innovative classes, like stilleto aerobics, BOSU(R) Bootcamp, Buff Yoga, and Pole Dancing. (I am seriously contemplating the pole dancing class. It could come in handy one day.) These classes have been part of what gets me to the gym.

I took Buff Yoga on Thursday. It is basically a yoga class that uses weights and other strength moves. And as I write on a Saturday afternoon, my bottom still hurts. Good class. Last night I went to the Funk class--aerobics using funk dance moves. I thought it would be more fun than a treadmill. By the end of the class, however, I decided that tread mills were more fun. The class was filled with tiny girls who really got into it. I suspect they took the class to either prepare for that evening's club escapades or they hoped to be a dancer on some hip hop superstar's next video with rump shaking chicks. Then there was me: the tall gangly one. Sometimes I don't remember that I am tall. But seeing myself in a mirror surrounded by tiny Pussycat Doll wannabees harshly reminded me that I am a giant. A giant that has a hard time with rapid footwork.

The class started out fine. I can shake my rump like the best of them, but after we warmed up, the instructor led us into a routine. This is a normal occurrence in aerobics classes, and I can do a grapevine in my sleep, but I could not do the funk footwork. There were a lot of obstacles in my way. First of all the music was really loud, and I could barely hear the instructor. Second, she didn't teach the steps slowly. I imagine she thought we all could dance, and lastly I was never good at routines. I am not an inhibited dancer, but routines and line dances befuddle me. I am so much better at freestyle.

We went through the routine several times, but I actually got worse as the class went on. One particularly good dancer angered me. She was showing off, flipping her hair around because she could do the dance moves (probably imagining herself in the next Ludcris video.) She reminded me of the Very Flexible Girl at Bally's who would flip her long hair around after she would drop into the splits into the middle of the gym. I have nothing against the Hair Flip--I do it rather well--I just dislike the blatant showing off. I only wish I didn't look like one of those tall girls who cannot control the way their bodies move. (Watch the 6 feet tall twins on America's next top model and you will know what I mean.)

Halfway through the class I saw people enter the Indoor Cycling class. I've done that class before and I love it. After tripping over my feet for the umpteenth time, I really wanted to be in there. Cycling is easy; all I have to do is pedal. Cycling is also fun because I usually imagine that I am racing with Lance, Floyd, Ivan, and Dave Zabriskie. (Congrats to Dave for winning the silver medal at the World Time Trial Championships!!) So the verdict on the Funk Class: I'll leave that to the Solid Gold dancers, and instead join the ranks of elite cyclist hopefuls. But I may try out that pole dancing class. It really may be useful one day!

On Thursday afternoon I did not have any concrete Friday night plans. This is not new. But this particular Thursday I did have two options: I could attempt to get tickets to see Snow Patrol's show or RSVP to the above event. My co-worker Shennell was invited, through a friend, to the Duckie Brown fashion show and after-party. I was immediately jealous--a fashion show during fashion week--well it is the ultimate New York activity, even if he designer is for men's wear. Shennell, in all his good-naturedness, forwarded me the invite and said I should try to rsvp and go. So I did. I didn't get immediately rejected, so I decided to go.

Oh, I vascilated. For one thing I didn't think I would have anything fashionable enough to wear. Plus, Snow Patrol's CD is really good. (I've already written about it.) Even though I recruited Alejandro to join me, I thought perhaps Snow Patrol would be more fun. In the end, I chose the Fashion Show. So I bought a new shirt and bag (with skull lining) and prettied myself up for the fashion show.

So it turned out to be just the after-party, not a fashion show, but I am not complaining. First of all, at the very beginning I proved my chops as a PR person. I sent my RSVP, but my name didn't show up on the guest list--I looked; it wasn't there. I explained that I may have sent a little to late, but since I hadn't heard anything I was sure I was on the list. The bouncer let me and Alejandro in! When I recounted the story to Shennell, he was impressed.

Since it was a party at a club, Alejandro and I weren't too sure if we would stay too long. After all, we wouldn't be drinking...and everyone else would be. We sat down at a booth and the British kid already sitting there asked me to watch his backpack. Now, my mom freaked out when I told her this. Just so you know it is a really small percentage of people who carry pipe bombs in their backpacks. This kid was like the many millions of New Yorkers who carry their personal belongings in a backpack. And he had shampoo in his bag, and although the airport security folk would have you believe that I should run for cover, rest assured I was completely safe. He took his time getting back to the booth, and he even joked that we must have thought he was a terrorist, and then he said that it was just shampoo. I immediately thought he must have been the hairdresser for the show. But before I asked, he explained it was the free stuff in the swag bags they always give out during fashion week. I aksed if he went to the show. Then he said that he was one of the models. Right away my curiousity was piqued. The recorded show was being projected on a screen, and I asked which outfit he wore. He explained that he wasn't in the show--he was the print model, i.e. the one on the invite. As you can tell, all there is up there is a mouth. He struck the pose, and voila! there was the mouth. I was going to ask him more questions, like what's your name, but Kanye West's "GoldDigger" came on and Alejandro wanted to dance. That was the end of a lovely conversation with a male model. Thanks Alejandro. He obviously does not get that I have a few requirements in a crush. Good-looking was one, and British accent is the other. Mystery Print Model had both.

You may wonder why I didn't let him dance by himself. Well, it was for his safety. The party was in Chelsea--a neighborhood with a lot of gay men, and there would most likely be a lot of gay men at a menswear fashion show, so I promised I would keep him from getting hit on. That requires me to leave a potentially good conversation with Mystery Print Model.

I hadn't danced in a while, so it was fun. But it was fun to see all the pretty boys too. Actually that was slightly depressing. All the boys were prettier than me, including the Hugo Boss model that graced us all with his presence. (Check him out - www.hugboss.com) I was also glad that despite the club location, no one danced like it was a club. Well, one couple enjoyed eachother's company a little too much, but no stranger came too close! Thank goodness. or darn it. I can't really decide.

Shennell asked me if I was disappointed that the invite was only for the after-party. Sure, I would love to have some free stuff, and see a show live but this is just my first Fashion Week in New York. I'll be at a real show soon enough.

Just Another Day at the Beach

A couple of weeks ago I agreed to head to Long Beach with some friends. When I moved to NYC I was pretty surprised to hear that people went to the beach around here. I didn't realize that there were beaches to visit. I should not have been so surprised, after all Long Island is an island. Maybe I thought the beaches were like the ones in Seattle: fun for bonfires, not so fun for swimming or laying out. I had to go through a huge paradigm shift when I went to Coney Island, but you can see the picture and read the post to know why that wasn't a good time. Nonetheless, in order to strengthen new friendships, I donned my suit and went to Long Beach.

In order to get to the beach, we had to take a train and buy a ticket to enter the beach. I guess the prices keep the riffraff out (note to Coney Island...). The train was lots of fun, since my days in Europe I have fallen in love with train travel. The un-fun thing about train travel in New York is Penn Station. That place is HUGE. I actually got lost for a bit when I hung out in the New Jersey transit area while looking for my friends. They were at the Long Island Rail Road area, obviously. Fortunately I actually had cell phone coverage or I would have never ever found them. I am not going to blame myself entirely because I see the ticket counter as a meeting place, not Cinnabon.

The train trip took about an hour--we didn't take an express. We read Vogue and InStyle, Holly had her hair braided, and we discussed Project Runway. Then the train stopped an a quarter of Manhatten got off the train and headed to the beach. We made a detour to the grocery store--a real live actual grocery store. We don't have big grocery stores in New York, and I mean more than three isles. This one had probably twenty isles and a parking lot. They also had grapes for 99 cents a pound. I bought some along with other munchies and water.

We found a spot at the beach, applied sunscreen, ate, and then finally hit the waves. The water was not too cold and it was fun to play in the crashing waves even though I inhaled salt water a couple of times. Needless to say, my sinuses were completely clear by the end of the day. But the water did have a lot of white jellyfish. And a lot means that they were constantly brushing up against me in the water. The Lifeguards assured us that the white ones didn't sting, but still--ICK! And they were all over the shore too. Holly wanted to poke them with a stick, fortunately for them she didn't find any sticks.

My biggest dillemma with the beach was what one does when not in the water. Pretty much you sit and read under the scorching sun. However, it was pretty windy, and hard to read the InStyle or Vogue when Nature decides which article to read. So I sat in the sun. Then Richard decided that he wanted to be buried in the sand, and then Ann wanted to be buried. See the above pictures. When Richard was buried Alejandro and Ann made a sand evening gown, and when Ann was buried we turned her into a beer-bellied truck driver.

I got a sunburn. I reapplied my sunscreen, but I still burned my arms. I was even covered up. So I think the only way for me to leave the beach completely sunscreen free is if I wear a bhurka. It's really the only way. Or I will invest in beach gear: floppy hat, umbrella, prescription sunblock, a house on the beach...

I'm going to make it after all

I know I haven't written in a while, and I do need to update you on the restaurants I've been to and what not--I promise to do that--I just wanted to quickly write and say that it is official: I work in public relations!!!

I know I haven't written about what I've done this summer during the nine to six (Okay sometimes 9-7), but that is because I'm sure that it is not OK to blog about my job. Many people have been fired for divulging too much info via blogs, and I didn't want it to happen to me.

On June 1st I started my internship at Zeno Group, a boutique firm owned by the Daniel J. Edelman Corp. (That's a big deal in the PR world.) Even though the New York branch is primarily a healthcare-focused firm, I convinced the recruiter to let me intern in their consumer division. It was a wise choice because I was busy all summer long. I worked late, juggled multiple projects, gave assignments to the other interns, and basically proved my P.R. abilities. And my superiors even liked my writing!! Which is good; that's why I went into to p.r.--to write more. So last week Zeno offered me a job. I gladly took it. I work with great people, and for the most part I like our clients. I'm not sure how my responsibilities will change now that I am no longer an intern. It is possible that they will not change since, according to my V.P., I worked as an account exective all summer. Two of the times he said this, he had had a couple of martinis, so I will continue to work hard.

If I had a hat I would toss it into the air, spin around, and catch it - a la Mary Tyler Moore. Actually my catching skills aren't stellar. I would probably end up picking the hat up off the ground.

Miss Esther, there's a mouse in the house!

Thursday morning I woke up at 5:40 because I needed to get into work early to do a bit of media monitoring. Surprisingly, I wasn't very groggy. Lately I have been questioning if I really am a morning person because even with 7 hours, I wake up in a zombie-like fog. (Many may recall, that in Seattle I averaged 5.5-6.0 hours per night, and still had lots of energy.) This morning I was very glad to have more spring in my step because I needed it!

After waking I headed to the bathroom to shower and beautify myself. As I was...in the bathroom I saw the shower curtain twitch. I ignored it thinking it was just a wierd gravitational pull, but it did it again. Then I was worried. I recalled last March when I was visiting my friend Krista in NYC and there was a HUGE cockroach in the bathtub. So big that I refused to kill it myself. It was something that I did not want to see in my bathtub at any time. With much trepidation I opened the shower curtain; fortunately I did not see a slimy six-legged mutant. Instead, I saw a wriggly little worm that turned out to be a mouse tail.

This little grey mouse was frantically trying to climb out of the bathtub, but he couldn't quite make it and kept slipping to the bottom of the tub. Since I do not have an aversion towards mice, I actually felt sorry for the little guy. I quickly put some clothes on, grabbed a dishtowel, and tried to pick him up. The dish towel was for my hands. I may not have an aversion to him, but I do have one to the vermin he may have been carrying. Plus he probably bites.

My first attempt to pick him up failed. He's a quick bugger. But I was successful of the second try. I then had to find a flashlight because I remembered that the hallway light wasn't turned on the night before, and I didn't want to trip down the stairs while holding a mouse. Finally we made it outside. I crouched down to let him loose, and boy was he ready to escape. After I opened the towel he made a bee-line to the "curb" for our handrail to climb over the side and on to freedom. Too bad he did not realize that on the other side of that "curb" thing was a 1 story drop. So he fell, but amazingly he did not die. I guess he had so much adrenaline pulsing through his tiny body that the fall did not phase him. As soon as he hit ground he was off like a bolt of lightening. I'm sure he set some kind of mouse record for speed. I imagine, that he probably has a few broken bones or something...or he's just another one of those indestructible New York vermin.

Anyway, for all those who have reconsidered visiting me, we have plugged up all the holes in our apartment with steel wool, and we should no longer have any problems. I think that night he was stuck in our tub was his first night with us, because there weren't any of those tell-tale signs. We will also sweep more.

In the subways you will find people selling all sorts of things. In the L stations there are people who sell bootlegged copies of current films. For kicks, my roommate bought a copy of the Lake House. Angie liked the film on the big screen, so why not watch a film that was filmed at the movie theater! Actually she probably didn't think that as she plopped down five bucks, she just hoped that the copy wasn't too horrible. We watched it this afternoon.

Well to start out, the movie wasn't exactly clear. It was as grainy as watching an old movie on non-HDTV...or any newer TV set. It was pretty much UHF. Actually, it reminded me of Mystery Science Theater 3000. For those of you who don't know what that is, let me explain. It was a show on the Comedy Channel about a guy who was sent to a space ship to watch bad movies as punishment. To endure the drudgery he made robot sidekicks who would make funny commentary throughout the show. Essentially, the viewer would watch people watch movies. So today, The Lake House was MST 3000 without commentary from robots. It was still cheesy enough for me to make my observations.

The videographer had a steady hand, for the most part. There was one part where he must have fallen of his seat because all of a sudden the images on screen went sideways and then black. Then there was the time when the blanket that covered the camera covered the right half of the screen. After a while the left side was covered.

Since it was in the theater, there were a lot of random coughs and at we could see people getting up and going to get more popcorn.

Even though the movie was not that great, I must say that watching it bootlegged made it more entertaining.

In the subways you will find people selling all sorts of things. In the L stations there are people who sell bootlegged copies of current films. For kicks, my roommate bought a copy of the Lake House. Angie liked the film on the big screen, so why not watch a film that was filmed at the movie theater! Actually she probably didn't think that as she plopped down five bucks, she just hoped that the copy wasn't too horrible. We watched it this afternoon.

Well to start out, the movie wasn't exactly clear. It was as grainy as watching an old movie on non-HDTV...or any newer TV set. It was pretty much UHF. Actually, it reminded me of Mystery Science Theater 3000. For those of you who don't know what that is, let me explain. It was a show on the Comedy Channel about a guy who was sent to a space ship to watch bad movies as punishment. To endure the drudgery he made robot sidekicks who would make funny commentary throughout the show. Essentially, the viewer would watch people watch movies. So today, The Lake House was MST 3000 without commentary from robots. It was still cheesy enough for me to make my observations.

The videographer had a steady hand, for the most part. There was one part where he must have fallen of his seat because all of a sudden the images on screen went sideways and then black. Then there was the time when the blanket that covered the camera covered the right half of the screen. After a while the left side was covered.

Since it was in the theater, there were a lot of random coughs and at we could see people getting up and going to get more popcorn.

Even though the movie was not that great, I must say that watching it bootlegged made it more entertaining.

Tonight as I was cooking some dinner, I heard a couple of explosions. No, it wasn't my cooking...even though I do cook on a gas stove. I decided to into my room to see if I could get an idea where that noise came from. It came from a building behind mine that was, at the time, on fire.
After a few more exlosions, the flames got even stronger and they roared out of the window. It seemed like it took forever for the fire department to come and put the fire out. Finally they came.
The first firefighter (sorry for the bad picture) broke all the glass out of the remaining windows on the floor. I thought it was rather odd, but as soon as the hoses turned on, I realized why. The force of the water would have broken the windows anyway, and at least glass was no longer flying with it.

It was creepy to watch, and I am just so glad that no one was in the place...that I saw. I hope everyone was safe.

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you put four New Yorkers in a car and sent them to New Jersey? OK, maybe that isn't exactly something you lay awake at night thinking about, but just in case you are let me tell you what happens: confusion. I am not going to blame it on us poor New Yorkers who don't drive anymore; I think New Jersey signage is the biggest culprit.

Today my friends Holly, Richard, and Alejandro borrowed a car and went to IKEA, Costco, and Target. Holly didn't want to drive, and quite frankly I didn't want to either. NYC has way too many one way streets and it can be very confusing. It is not as confusing as the New Jersey Turnpike. Our first stop was IKEA, and it took us three tries to get there. Alejandro drove, and Richard navigated, but it wasn't too successful. I was pretty much not paying attention to where we were or how it was that we got lost. I think the issue was that we were looking for an exit that wasn't well-marked. We always saw it as we passed it. But getting to it would also require driving over medians. Since we weren't in an SUV, we opted against it. We drove by the same mosque about three times, made several U-Turns (some of those being in the same place), and then finally we made it to IKEA.

It was Holly's first time ever at the Swedish haven of cheap furniture. This particular store was enormous--two stories. We started our voyage through the store at the cafe. This is place that requires sustenance for sure, and we all endulged in some swedish meatballs. Then we hit the showroom. I am in the market for furniture because I currently just have mattresses and a mantle that doubles as a vanity. My underwear is in a suitcase next to my closet. So I looked at dressers and shelves. I didn't buy anything though. I am going to wait until I am no longer an intern. Alejandro is in the same boat. We both looked around and bought just a few kitchen things.

So when we finally got done with IKEA (about three hours) we headed over to Costco. In Seattle it is not a good idea to go to Costco on Saturday because it is completely impossible to find a place to park. This is not the case at the Hackensack, NJ Costco. But we had other issues. For example there was four of us and only one Costco card--and this card didn't belong to either of us. Using my powers of stealth, I was able to get in by tagging along with a random shopper, and then met up with the gang. We got a few things, and headed to the checkout. This is where we met up with an issue. Since neither of us was the cardholder, we were not allowed to purchase anything. Dejected, we walked back to our car and headed to Target. That's a good store. No membership cards, we found it easily, and it has pretty much everything one needs. Even vitamins. I actually forgot to buy those...so luckily I discovered this before we left the parking lot.

Amazingly, the trip back to NYC was uneventful. But for those of you who want to drive into New Jersey, be careful of signs and turnpikes and Costco.

For everyone who knows about my love of professional cycling...well all readers should know after my first-day-of-the-Tour post...perhaps you are wondering about my thoughts on the Floyd Landis situation. Well, I will tell you. I firmly believe that he is innocent. You all may think that I am terribly naive, especially after the results of the tests, but I am sticking to my guns. Something is terribly fishy, but yet the press wants to make a villian of him.

True, he hasn't really represented himself like smooth, suave Lance Armstrong. Lance has had seven years of defending himself in the public eye so he is very well-versed in what the media should hear, and I imagine he has a stellar PR team. Floyd, on the other hand, probably didn't think he would need any PR training, so now he is shooting himself in the foot everytime he opens his mouth. If I were his publicist I would tell him to say less, and I would tell his expert friends to quit giving excuses because the press is having a field day making fun of every new idea.

So why do I think he is innocent? He only had one positive test. Sure, it happened to fall at a very important day, but if he wanted to guarantee victory by was of artificial enhancements he would have doped up for the time trial as well. That was the day that sealed his victory. No one dopes just once. He is a hard worker. He proved that early in the season with three wins--and zero positive drug tests.

So now all you CSI fans are shouting, "But what about the tests?" Well that is a question for the UCI, cycling's governing body, and the World Anti-Doping Association. Their tests are flawed! The first flaw is that the UCI uses a testing facility that is notorious for leaking information to the press. (ie Lance Armstrong) They are not supposed to know anything about the athletes they test, but still they manage to be able to tell L'Equipe the nationality of the testee. If the results are supposed to be valid, the facility cannot know anything that could bias their results. Floyd's name should have never (according to the UCI's OWN rules) been out in the public until after the B-sample was tested. But, as the UCI stated, they had to make the announcement before the testing facility told the press. I see red flags here!

Second flaw: Operacion Puerto (OP) has already proved that science does not always work. Several athletes, ie Ivan and Jan, are in trouble for somehow being involved in a doping scandal, yet when they were recently tested after their wins, the tests found nothing. This either means that A) They are totally innocent or B) THEY DON'T WORK. I think Ivan is innocent, however.

Lastly, this whole doping thing has become nothing more than a McCarthy-esque witch hunt. Dennis McQuaid of the UCI spends most of his time bad-mouthing suspected cyclists and won't even help them claim their innocence. For example, I read in Velo News that Spanish authorities have asked the UCI for Jan's blood samples to see if they match the frozen ones from OP. The UCI refused, saying they needed to have them for their research. Wouldn't be horrible if Jan lost everything because the UCI won't help him? McQuaid has even said that if the Italain Olympic committee finds Ivan innocent, the UCI will still sanction him--and they have NO right to do that according to their own laws. Which we have seen they can't even follow in the first place.

Many people blame the drugged up cyclists for ruining the sport. I say that it is the UCI who is ruining it by dragging innocent people through the mud. GO FLOYD!!!

PS Greg LeMond needs to shut the #*$&% up. If the testing procedure was as crazy then as it is now, chances are he would have tested positive for something besides being a major naughty word that my grandmother taught me.

As I am sure most of you heard on the news, New York had a bit of a heat wave last week. You know, I think it is funny that weather makes the news...and more than just the daily forecast. I always look to the news to find out about things that I don't already know. I can pretty much go outside and tell that it is sweltering. Of course the news does tell us how to deal with the heat, which I guess is important. Actually, last week's heat crisis turned scorching temperatures into a near state of emergency.
As I've mentioned in a previous entry, the old buildings we live in are not equipped with central air. (I invite you to read back to my entry on installing air conditioners...it is quite funny.) But since these units are not always cheap, not everyone has one. For example I don't. My apartment has one in the living room, and my two roommates have them in their bedrooms, but I am not quite ready to shell out a hundred or so bucks for one. I have a small fan that I got for free, and at the beginning of summer I thought that was plenty. I figured that it couldn't get hotter or muggier than Ecuador, so I can handle the heat. I am pretty much the most retarded person on the planet. It is hot, and I should go out and get an a/c, but now I tell myself that it is pretty pointless to get one with one month left of summer. Although they will go on sale soon, and maybe I'll get one then.

I am not the only one in this city without an a/c precariously perched on my windowsill. I imagine there are many low-income families in the 'hood that are relying on fans and popsicles to stay cool. (Popsicles are still one step up from me, however. Due to the sugar content, I'm trying to do without.) So when the 100+ days came, and the popsicle/fan combo failed, the residents did the only thing they could do--they bust open the fire hydrants. This is an illegal activity, as they tell us on the news, but it happens on every street. While walking home, I do enjoy the light spray of the hydrant; it is refreshing. I have yet, however, to stand in front of the hydrant. Those things are pretty powerful, and like I said, it is against the law. But when I see the hydrants I often think about running through the sprinklers, which was a favorite childhood activity. I guess fire hydrants are the inner-city sprinkler system.

Fortunately during the day, I am in an air-conditioned office. In fact there are days when it is so cold that I have to turn on the space heater. This week, we were not allowed to keep our a/c as cold, however. You may recall a few years ago when several cities back east blacked out. This is a common occurrence in the summertime because a/c units tend to use up a lot of power. (My roommates told me that energy bills are much higher in the summer than in the winter--that's something that may come as a shock to Seattleites.) In order to conserve energy, ConEd asks everyone to dim lights, lower the a/c temperatures, and turn off any unnecessary electrical appliance. Apparently elevators are one of those unnecessary appliances. I disagree. I work on the 16th floor. As much as I like the stairs, I do not like 16 flights of stairs. That's why I took the freight elevator when our main lifts were grounded on Thursday. The freight elevators have to work for deliveries and the handicapped, or people with stilettos. (Although one girl in my office climbed the 16 floors in 4 inch heels.) That Thursday was a fun day. We had to work with our lights off, and everything seemed really laid back and casual. We ordered in lunch under the excuse that due to the elevators we couldn't leave. I had a really tasty BLT. But the next day, I dressed ready to climb up the stairs, but the elevators were turned on. I'm not sad about that, by the way.

Another fun part of summer are roofop parties. Having a good roof is quite the commodity. Since our apartments are so small, it is hard to have a large party. So resourceful New Yorkers looked to the roof for their smashing parties. In fact there are a few bars/clubs on roofs. I haven't been to any, I've just heard. There are two great reasons to go to a rooftop party: 1. the view. Last week I went to a roof with a great view of the George Washington Bridge. Reason #2. the cool breeze. Add some chips, and you've got a party. The only dilemmas with these parties is electric power. There aren't any outlets up there. So to have lights, music, and the occasional bubble machine, party hosts usually dangle extension cords into their window and plug in that way. This is ideal for those that live on the top floor, but it is very comical when the host lives on the bottom floor. Luckily we aren't dealing with a high rise building. I think those have outlets--they are more modern. They even have central air. No, the party in question had maybe five or six floors, but still the thankfully long cord was lowered all the way to the bottom, with a girl hanging out her window yelling "A little more to the right" at 10:00 p.m.

You are probably wondering when I am going to throw my rooftop party. Well, our roof isn't very accessible. Most good roofs have a stairway leading up to it. We have a ladder. Somehow I don't see myself carrying two litre bottles while climbing up a ladder.