LA Girl in Manhattan Westchester

Bridesmaid Dresses

2008-06-19T16:14:00.001-07:00

With the wedding fast approaching, I knew I had to get cracking on a few critical items. At the end of April, I flew out to LA to decide on a cake, finalize the wedding menu, choose the table design, hire a photographer and find a dress for my bridesmaids. All in all, it was a busy, but successful trip where my maid of honor even managed to squeeze in a bridal shower.

But the one item on the list that wasn't so successful was finding a dress for my bridesmaids. For some reason, I'd thought this would be an easy task where we would just walk into the garment district of LA (aka cheap bridesmaid dress central) and effortlessly choose a dress at a very affordable price. Reality hit when we found an abundance of stores with essentially the same generic, bland-looking merchandise. Each store might have one or two dresses among many that their neighbor did not carry.

Generally, if the store had nothing particularly interesting to offer, the sales staff tried to be as helpful and polite as possible. Unfortunately, the store stocking the most varied, interesting dresses had the bitchiest shop owner I'd ever encountered. It was toward the end when I'd felt that our shopping tour was going to be a bust that one of my bridesmaids spotted what I thought was our jackpot. There were so many cute dresses to choose from, and the line for the fitting room snaked through the store. Within minutes, we'd found "the one", "that dress." One of my bridesmaids emerged from the fitting room after a long wait and modelled the dress for us. Perfect! Our shopping trip was now a success! All I had to do was flag down the shop owner to place our order and try to negotiate a volume discount.

(LANYTransplant) Miss, excuse me. How much is this dress?

(Sales lady) Eighty-five.

(LANYTransplant) If I order five of them, can I get a volume discount?

(Sales lady) No. Eighty-five, that's it. I don't order dresses (snatching the dress out of my hand).

I reached over to grab the dress that the bitch put back on the sales rack only to have her snatch it out of my hands again.

(Sales lady) You can't have it.

(LANYTransplant) Well, can I just look at it? (taking it back)

(Sales lady) No, it's against store policy. (snatching the dress right out of my hands again)

(LANYTransplant) I just want to see the label.

(Sales lady) No, you can't see it! It's against store policy!!

And with that, my bridesmaid dress hunt in LA was a bust. But what I did manage to do was sneak a peek at one of the many dresses that the shopowner carried all under the exact same brand. The shopowner was careful to have ripped the main label off of all of her merchandise, but missed the side ribbons, bearing the Rose and Lula label. I googled the brand name, hoping to order the dresses online only to discover that Rose and Lula was a designer label with a $200+ price tag on each of its dresses. That, and the dress I saw at LA's garment district must have been a discontinued model since I couldn't find it anywhere online.

Now back in New York after having accomplished all of my other wedding tasks, I decided to find a dress by a well-known bridal brand and order the dresses online through either House of Brides or RK Bridal which carried several suitable bridesmaid dresses in the $100 range. But time was running short, and with the 16 week lead time that these retailers required to be safe, I was out of options.

Now I was stressed. Where would I find five of the same dress in various sizes that I could order quickly at the affordable price that I'd promised my bridesmaids? Right about now, the Fiancee chimed in, "What about that garment district-y store we walked into down the street once?" I didn't remember what he was talking about, but dashed out the door dragging the Fiancee behind me and demanded that he show me the place.

In less than ten minutes, it was LA's garment district deja-vu right in the middle of White Plains! Some of the dresses were the exact same disasters of a gown I saw in LA, but each dress had non-negotiable price tags. With the prices printed on each dress, there was no need to bargain or haggle, as the owner had priced each dress at the floor already. I even saw the same dress that I wore as a bridesmaid for my cousin's wedding at a price cheaper than what she paid after negotiating a volume discount and haggling even further with the salesman to bring the price down to what she thought was the floor. She had about $5-$10 left to go.

After a short browse through all of the dresses, I pulled a satiny green knee-length halter dress from the rack and modelled it for the Fiancee. With it's $39.99 price tag and various sizes available to order and pick up within 10 days, this would certainly do. I snapped a few pictures and sent off images of the dress to my bridesmaids for approval. Within a few days, I'd collected everyone's dress size and returned to the shop over the weekend to place my order.

(Shopowner) Ahh! Hello! You guys back to order the dresses! I have right here!

The shop owner pulled out an order slip, and asked me to fill out my name, address and phone number before taking down my order and calculating the total.

(Shopowner) Ok, you have five dress. When you need it by?

(Fiancee) As soon as possible.

(Shopowner) Well, when you get married?

(Fiancee) Soon, very soon. We need the dresses as soon as you can get them to us. We're getting married out of state and need to mail these out.

(Shopowner) What's so rush? Ok, ok. I get them to you as soon as I can. You put down half deposit today.

Since these were my bridesmaids who would be paying me back, I handed the shop owner my credit card.

(Shopowner) What? You stand there and let your wife pay? Hahaha. Just kidding! It ok.

Haha. Funny, funny. Not really.

(Shopowner) Ok, miss. You sign here. And where you live? What your address to pick up dresses from?

(LANYTransplant) It's right there on your order slip. I wrote it down, remember?

(Shopowner) But that his address (pointing to the Fiancee).

(LANYTransplant) Yes, well mine, too.

(Shopowner) Oh, you two not marry and living together?! Oh, bad bad! Very bad! (now wagging his finger at us) Hahaha! Just kidding! Just joking! OK, I get those dresses to you very soon!

Not funny. Annoying, even. He probably thinks I'm pregnant.

Everyone Thinks Everyone Else is an Idiot

2008-05-16T19:15:00.000-07:00

The last two weeks at work have been really busy after coming back from vacation and having a huge project underway with one team member out on vacation and another out on maternity leave. I was the only one left on our three-person team, and because I'm paranoid about not making the deadline which was specially extended for me, I'd been working through lunch and staying late every night.

With so much work to complete, I had no time to run lunchtime errands, but needed to make a withdrawal from the ATM before heading home. Time would be tight to make my train, but seeing no line for the ATM that I passed by on the way to Grand Central, I figured I could squeeze in a couple of minutes to get some cash. It was raining, and as I fumbled around in my purse to find my ATM card, a lady on the other side of the CHASE door that I was trying to get into was frantically pushing all of three of the doors trying to get out.

Poor lady...looks stressed...maybe if she would calm down a bit, she'll remember how to open a door.

I swiped my card on the cardreader, but with both the lady and myself trying to push the door open, nothing would open. So, I swiped again, and let the lady do all the pushing. The door opened, and she jetted out as I slipped in. All ATMs were empty. There was only one other lady waiting around staring out the window.

Hmmm...she probably forgot her umbrella and is waiting out the rain. Hope she brought a book or has a lot of minutes to burn.

I quickly withdrew what I needed and headed back out to Grand Central. There was plenty of time to catch my train. I reached a door and gave it a shove only to find it locked. No big deal. There were two other doors to try. I gave the door right next to it a good shove, but it was locked, too. Now I was getting a bit worried. There was only one more door to try, and after slamming my full weight against it, I found that it, too, was locked.

These were the only doors out. I was locked inside a CHASE ATM lobby. Now, I was frantically shoving all three doors, but nothing worked. I couldn't get out. I went back over to the ATMs and tried to talk to the lady who was still staring blankly out the window.

Excuse me? Hello? Excuse me, Miss.

No response. She wouldn't even look at me. What was wrong with her? How could she not know I was trying to talk to her?! I was the only other person in the lobby, and right up to her face!!

Miss? Excuse me? Miss?

She continued to ignore me, and started dialing her cell phone to talk to someone else. Seeing that she was no help, I went back to frantically shove all three doors. What was wrong with everybody?! The entire ATM lobby was made of clear glass and located in a busy intersection. Couldn't people see that I couldn't get out? I was frantically shoving all three doors!

After a minute of door-shoving, a man walked by to use the ATM and looked slightly amused at how nervously ineffective I was at opening doors. He slid his card against the card reader and opened the door for me, not once thinking that this same scenario might happen to him next. I stopped him as he headed past me.

Hey, I just want to warn you that you might not be able to get out. The lady before me was stuck in here, too, until I let her out.

A slight look of panic crossed his face.

Seriously? Do you have a second? Can you hold the door for me? Where's the ATM? I'll be right back. Please wait! I'll be right back!

Of course I'd wait. How rude of me would it be to lock him in after he'd let me out? I held the door for about a minute while the man made his withdrawal. In that time, two people walked in as I held the door open. A minute later, the man returned, and I ran down the street to catch my train. I felt a little bad about leaving the other two trapped inside.

At least there's two of them. They could keep each other company. Maybe even get the stone wall to talk. Within five minutes someone else will need to use the ATM and let them out.

And then another round would start.

Housekeeping Robots

2008-04-09T19:59:00.000-07:00

This year the Fiancee splurged on a couple of housekeeping electronics with his bonus check. With both of our lives getting busier and more stressful at work, neither of us cares to clean after getting home from work, so we end up being bogged down with household chores over the weekend. To lighten the weekend load and prevent the birth of allergy inducing dust bunnies during the week, the Fiancee ordered a Roomba and Air Rabbit from Amazon.

The Roomba is a vacuum cleaning robot. Resembling an oversized hocky puck wielding little side sweeping bristles, the Roomba sits in its battery charging unit until the programmed time comes for it to work its magic. The Roomba moves from room to room vacuuming and dusting every inch of your home so that you don't have to. Upon completion, the Roomba parks itself back in its battery charging unit and lets out a little victory tune. The Fiancee programmed our Roomba to work at 5PM on 3 days during the week so that we'd both come home to a dust bunny-free apartment.

The Air Rabbit is a stationary air purifying system. In addition to sucking up dust particles, it also eats up germs and odors. As long as the unit is plugged in, the Air Rabbit kicks on automatically to clean up any dust, germs or odors that it detects. It also has a "turbo" mode to allow its zealous filters to clear the air in especially overwhelming situations.

Since we've had it, the Air Rabbit has done a fantastic job. We no longer see dust particles floating in the air, and both of our allergies have improved. If we were to deep fry in the kitchen, the smell of deep fried foods no longer lingers so that we have to open a window to let the freezing winter air clear out the smell. Before the Air Rabbit, we'd fry our food, bundle up in our puffy winter coats, and then open up both the front door and a window to create an air tunnel to whisk away the smell. I'd always want to hide away from the door, as passers-by probably wondered why the crazy Asian people down the hall were sitting at the dinner table with teeth chattering in their ski jackets.

On the other hand, the Roomba worked well only after a little trial and error. When we first got the robot, we were curious to see how it worked, so we charged it up and watched it go. The Roomba made diagonal lines across the room, changing directions when it bumped into something, or deciding to make a straight line to follow a wall. The robot danced around chairs or sometimes seemed a bit confused as it went around in circles over the same leg repeatedly. Eventually, it would move on to another leg and continue on its way. Sometimes, the Roomba would start out moving in larger and larger concentric circles. Regardless, in the ten minutes or so that we watched it clean, it seemed to be working fine. So, the Fiancee programmed a 5PM start time on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

On the first Monday that it ran, I came home to find the Roomba parked back in its battery charging unit. It seemed to have done its job aside from chewing up the living room rug and missing the bathroom and a few dusty spots here and there. For its Wednesday run, the Fiancee decided to roll up the rug and put all chairs up on tables (the way restaurants do) to help the Roomba do a better job. With chair legs to bump into, get confused over and waste its batteries turning around in circles, it seemed like the solution to achieve the maximum benefit would be to clear the path as much as possible. Rolling up the rug would also prevent the Roomba from mistaking the edges for dirt and trying feverishly to suck up the entire rug.

When I got home on Wednesday, the Roomba was not in its battery charging unit. Why was the door between the hall and vanity area shut? We never shut that. Now, I was getting scared. Had someone else been in the apartment? Were they still here? The Fiancee wouldn't get back for another half hour. Timidly, I reached out to the door handle and pushed it open. It was then that I could hear a worn out motor churning. Argh! All of the doors were shut. The Roomba had gone from room to room, shutting doors and had finally locked itself in the bathroom where it was sluggishly bumping around from wall to wall trying to find a way out. It never even made it to the bedroom! I picked the tired Roomba off the bathroom floor and dropped it back off to its battery charging unit where it let out a victory tune. What was it so proud of?! It had done a terrible job and gave me a little scare.

Since we didn't have any doorstops handy for its Friday run, we pushed all of the doors wide open against the walls, hoping that this would help the Roomba do its job thoroughly and return home to its battery charging unit. But on Friday, I came home to find that the Roomba had locked itself in the bedroom this time in addition to missing a few dusty spots in the living room. We didn't have time that weekend to buy a pack of doorstops, so we stuffed cardboard under all of the doors to keep them open and stop the Roomba from locking itself into either the bathroom, bedroom or vanity area.

For its Monday run, I came home to find the Roomba parked in its battery charging unit. All doors had stayed open, but the place looked like a hurricane had run through it. In the kitchen, a folding chair that we lean up against a wall was knocked flat on the floor. In the living room, we'd forgotten to roll up the rug which was now twisted and ruffled on the floor. A lamp was knocked over. Another lamp's cord was ripped out of the wall. The laptop's computer battery was pulled off of its cord and dragged across the room. But the apartment was clean, with no dusty spots missed. Damn robot was now developing an attitude!

After this, the Fiancee decided to use the guides, little electronic signalling devices, that came with the machine to block it from entering the kitchen and signal it to enter other rooms so that it wouldn't let out its aggression in one room for too long. The Fiancee also moved its "home" to under the bed rather than keep it outside in the livingroom where its base and cords made for a messy look. This time, we rolled up any lamp cords and made sure that the laptop battery was safely tucked away from the floor. When we came home on Wednesday, the Fiancee looked under the bed to see if the Roomba had gone home. It wasn't there. Nor was it locked in the bathroom or visible anywhere in the livingroom. Where was it?! Had the robot run away? Did it somehow open the front door and leave?! We'd spent over $300 on that thing. How could it just leave?! Now we couldn't even return it. After a little searching, the Fiancee found the Roomba tucked away behind a large houseplant in the bedroom. Its battery was exhausted. The Fiancee picked the Roomba up and shoved it into its battery charging unit where it let out its usual victory tune.

Over the weekend, we bought a pack of doorstops and placed them under all of the doors. The guides were all set up again, and we cleared the floors of chairs, rugs and cords. The Fiancee also moved the Roomba's home to under the vanity which is a more open, central location so that the Roomba would not have a hard time finding its home base. The next Monday, I'd forgotten to check the Roomba's whereabouts when I got home. The Fiancee and I rushed to make a light dinner while the Air Rabbit sucked up any kitchen odors. We wolfed our food down and hurriedly dumped the dishes into the dishwasher before changing into our gym clothes. After waiting about 15 minutes for our food to digest, we squeezed in a quick, but pretty intense gym workout. I was drenched after the workout when we got back to the apartment. It then dawned on us to check the Roomba.

We were both pleased to find that the robot was parked at home under the vanity. All of the doors had stayed open with its doorstops in place, nothing had been knocked over, and the floors were dust free. We'd found the perfect combination! Our Roomba was now behaving.

As the Fiancee hopped into the shower, I leaned over the kitchen counter and gulped down a glass of orange juice to quench my post-workout thirst, satisfied with the results of both of our housekeeping robots. Then out of nowhere, the Air Rabbit kicked into turbo.

Cantaloupes

2008-03-20T20:26:00.000-07:00

In the Asian culture, it’s common practice to give fruit as gifts. And I’m not talking about pretty Harry and David gift boxes or fancy pre-packaged fruit baskets – I’m talking about fruit on sale from your local grocery store packaged in the same plastic bag that would have lined your trashcan if it weren’t being used to carry a gift.

Growing up, I watched my parents visit friends and family bearing bags full of crisp, juicy Asian pears, Fuji apples or sometimes meaty loquats plucked fresh off of my aunt’s tree down the street. Many times after having dinner at the Fiancee’s home, my future mother-in-law would rummage through her basket of fresh fruit, placing her best white peaches, mangoes or oranges into a plastic grocery bag for me to take home to my mom. In turn, my mother would fill a plastic bag full of golden kiwis or giant apples and hand them to my Fiancee to bring back to his mother after having dropped me off home.

More formal occasions might call for crates of fruit rather than plastic bags. I once bumped into an old childhood friend at a Korean grocery store after having not seen her for about five years. When I asked what she was doing there, she answered that she was headed out to a graduation ceremony and, nodding toward the crates of Asian pears, white peaches and golden kiwis, wanted to pick up some fruit as a graduation gift. Another time, an old coworker brought crates of mandarin oranges on her last day of work as a parting gift.

So despite growing up in America, where your host may seem baffled or even insulted at receiving plastic bags of fruit, I’m familiar with the custom, but know to keep it within my Asian circle. Otherwise, I know to bring a bottle of wine or a nicely packaged dessert.

A few weeks ago, the Fiancee and I were doing our usual weekend grocery shopping at the local Pathmark where sweet, juicy cantaloupes were on sale. Knowing that I’d end up having to scoop up a rotten mess from the kitchen floor if we bought more than we could finish, I limited the Fiancee to two cantaloupes only. About five minutes later, I found the Fiancee wheeling a cart holding four cantaloupes.

Hey, I thought I said two only. You know these are just going to rot!

Oh, I know. I picked up two extra for our friends upstairs.

Oh, alright.

I decided not to question the Fiancee any further as long as only two of those cantaloupes were for us.

Back at home unloading groceries, I noticed a plastic grocery bag holding two cantaloupes with a note taped to it saying, “From [Fiancee]”.

Hey, did our friends ask you to pick these up for them?

No. I just wanted to give them some fruit for all of the times last week that they drove me home because of the snowstorms.

You’re giving them cantaloupes in a plastic bag as a gift?

Yeah, who doesn’t love fruit?

But they’re not Asian. I don’t think they’ll understand. They might not know what this is. You’re just going to leave a bag of fruit from Pathmark on their doorstep with a post it saying nothing more than it’s from you?

Of course they’ll get it! Why wouldn’t they appreciate this? It’s fruit. Who doesn’t love fruit?

Not wanting to insult the Fiancee’s gift any further, I let him run upstairs and drop the bag of cantaloupes onto our friends’ doorstep. Meanwhile, I stood in the kitchen snickering at the memory of all of the perplexed non-Asian faces of friends who’d once asked me to explain why so-and-so felt the urge to do a portion of their grocery shopping one week. Then I imagined how our upstairs friends might react:

We’re definitely switching back to FreshDirect.

(tripping) Damn neighbors keep dropping their bags on our doorstep!

Did we forget to do something?

The child in me wanted to run upstairs and hide behind a plant until our friends came home just to see the looks on their faces.

Early Kickoff of Ski Season

2007-12-24T17:51:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year again when the weather gets cold, snow falls and Fiancee's friends, coworkers and boss kindly offer up their Vermont cabins and vacation homes up to those (me & Fiancee) less fortunate. Nothing I can complain about when we get free lodging next to a ski resort. The Fiancee and I went two weekends in a row and will be going again next weekend. With all this practice I'm getting on the slopes, I'd better improve by the end of this season!
For the first weekend in Vermont, the Fiancee's friends won a weekend stay at a Vermont cabin that sleeps ten. Bright and early at 4AM on Saturday morning, the Fiancee's friend showed up at our doorstep ready for a 3 1/2 hour road trip. I managed to drag myself out of bed and into the backseat of the friend's car where I fell right back to sleep for most of the drive (I'm not the most exciting travel buddy on a road trip, (maybe) unless I'm driving). When we arrived at the cabin in Vermont, everyone else was already there from the night before. After quickly unloading our bags and grabbing a bite to eat at the cabin, the three of us dashed off to Mount Snow, anxious to hit the slopes.
It was freezing cold out there, but the conditions were perfect with a thick blanket of white, powdery snow so soft that falling felt like landing on a fluffy pillow. Generally, these conditions are ideal for improving your technique with the diminished consequences of falling. But for some reason, on my second black diamond (what was I thinking?!) I must have looked a bit inexperienced while trying to maneuver my way to the left for a smoother (although extremely steep) descent down rather than to the right where I was headed for the bumpy, mogul-filled terrain. Looking a little bit flustered that I had skiied a little too much toward the right, I turned my head after hearing a nearby voice:
Miss, you're not a real good skiier, are you?
Huh? Ummm, well...
You really should turn back. These trails are the toughest on the mountain. It's really dangerous. If you take your skis off and walk back uphill, you'll find some nice greens and blues that would be much better for you.
Ok.
Go back up the mountain. You shouldn't be here.
Now, I realize that the old man was concerned for my safety and just trying to help, but this confidence-draining, fear-inducing advice was not helpful now that I was standing on a massively steep black diamond slope.
My first inclination was to take the man's advice. Stuck on the side of the mountain, I popped off my skis (Mistake #1 - Not being "a real good skiier", having to put your skis back on while standing on a near vertical slope is really a two, maybe even three, person job) and started inching my way back up to the top of the mountain (Mistake #2 - Try inching your way up a near vertical slope. Add on the pressure of thinking that everyone on the ski lift above you is staring at this ridiculously pathetic sight. Throw in a pair of skis and poles to hand carry and tell me that you wouldn't slip and slide). The slope was just way too steep and slippery. I hadn't gone more than 6 inches before I found myself sliding uncontrollably down the mountain on my stomach. I thought I'd never stop, but eventually did. Now I was in a state of distress. There was no way I was climbing back up the mountain after sliding down about a third of it, and the final two-thirds of it was still frighteningly steep. Sitting hopelessly on the side of the mountain, I pulled out my cell phone and decided to call the Fiancee for advice. He had been waiting patiently for me about halfway down the mountain and had already taken off his snowboard to climb up the mountain to look for me when I called. Climbing up a steep mountain is slow and tiring, so I slid myself down a bit more until we met. The Fiancee helped me back into my skis and cheered me on the whole way until I made it safely down the mountain. I was done with black diamonds after that. We finished off our day with a few more blue intermediate slopes and then headed back to the cabin after 5-6 hours on the slopes.
Back at the cabin, we all showered up before the Fiancee started to make everyone a nice dinner of Cuban-style chicken with rice, black beans and fried plantains. The cabin was nearly empty by the time we got back, as the other group had hit the slopes and came back about an hour after we did.
Everyone munched on a variety of gourmet cheeses and crackers while sipping wine until our scrumptious dinner was ready, which we all devoured, especially since we'd had a full day on the mountain. And then for our evening entertainment, we had shots and board games. My favorite was Balderdash where you had to make up definitions to words that no one has ever heard of on little strips of paper. The mediator would also write out a fake definition and the real definition on strips of paper before reading out the word, each made up definition, and the real definition. Then it was everyone's turn to guess the correct definition to win points. Points were also awarded to those whose made up definitions fooled others. I didn't guess the correct definition too often, but my made up definitions fooled enough people to put me in the running for first place at one point even though I finished third at the end. By now, I was too full of rum and too short on sleep to stay up much longer. The Fiancee, his friend and I turned in early. We'd have to drive out early the next morning since the Fiancee's friend had a family event to attend in the early evening.
The following weekend, the Fiancee's coworker offered up his Vermont vacation home to a few coworkers, which brought us back up to Vermont for another weekend. The Fiancee and I drove up at around 7AM on Saturday and arrived a little after 11AM. We decided to relax at the house on Saturday and have Sunday for a full day of skiing. While the coworkers did a half day on the slopes, the Fiancee and I napped by the fire, then read quietly, then napped again and then finally went out for a bit of snowshoeing around the house and over the frozen lake outside. Later that night, we all went out to a local seafood restaurant for dinner before settling back in the house to play drinking card games, which I don't find quite as fun as playing board games while drunk. Most drinking card games are about luck. All you do is flip a few cards here and there, and you're bound to end up drinking every other time. To me, it doesn't seem much different than everyone sitting in a circle and just taking sips one after another. But anyway, the Fiancee and I didn't want to get too hammered since we were going to ski the next day, so we turned in a little before midnight and tried not to drink too much.
The next day was horrible for skiing, as it was sprinkling. Regardless, we decided that we could handle skiing in the rain. Surprisingly, there were quite a few people on the slopes despite the bad weather. Supposedly, skiing in the rain is actually advantageous since it helps your control (or so the ticket lady kept saying). I think I might agree with that, but the Fiancee absolutely didn't. On a snowboard, he found that the rain made the slopes icy and hard to stay up on. My only complaint was that I was soaking wet even though my ski clothes claimed to be waterproof (guess it has it's limits). After about an hour and a half of tumbling around in slush, neither of us was having much fun, so we wasted our day of skiing and went back to the house to dry up, have lunch and then drive home.

Barbeque Flames

2007-11-27T17:47:00.000-08:00

I must have known Joan of Arc in a past life because for as long as I can remember, I've always been terrified of fire. I don't think I lit my first match until I was well into my twenties. Also, when I first started cooking, I must have looked quite awkward trying to stir the contents of my pots and pans with my arm extended out as far as possible while standing a few feet away from the stove.

Contrary to me, my fiancee, an avid cook, loves to experiment with different culinary techniques and has always pushed me to tackle my fear of fire, as having a nervous assistant in the kitchen can be quite distracting. The first time that the Fiancee announced he was going to flambay something, I think I backed myself into the kitchen's farthest corner near a door and refused to move as long as he was continuing on with his plan to burn the whole place down.

Over the years, I've gotten more used to and comfortable with fire. I no longer stand far away from the stove when cooking, and when things boil over, causing quick flashes of orange to flicker up into the air, I know to just turn the heat down rather than scream and point until someone else does it for me. But every once in a while, a situation pops up that revives remnants of my old scaredy cat self.

To start, a couple of months ago on a Friday after work, the Fiancee had an urge to fire up the barbeque. Anticipating that this urge would come, he already had chicken legs, thighs and breasts marinating in the refrigerator from the night before. After grabbing a pair of tongs, plates, utensils, chips and chicken, the two of us headed downstairs and fired up the grill. I sat on the benches unloading the plates, utensils and chips while the Fiancee lit the fires and threw on the meat. About 5 minutes into barbequeing, the Fiancee noticed that we had no beer and wanted to run across the street for a six pack.

Regardless of how miffed I looked at the thought of being left alone in the dark to stand next to a burning grill, nothing was going to get between the Fiancee and his beer. He assured me that everything would be alright, I'd only have to flip the chicken once or twice, and he'd be back in 5 minutes.

Standing about an arm and a tong's length away from the grill, I reached over as far as possible and flipped each piece of chicken over once. Alright, that wasn't so bad. It was getting a little hot, but everything was still under control. A couple of minutes later, I decided the flip the chicken over once more. As the grease from the chicken dripped into the fire, the flames started to really pick up. Now it was getting really hot. Ok, turn down the heat, and stop flipping until the Fiancee returns. But the grease kept on dripping, and the fire just kept climbing higher and higher. This was really making me nervous. Pretty soon, the grill looked like it was engulfed in flames. The fire was so high that I could no longer flip the chicken without burning my arm off. Where the hell was he?! What was I supposed to do? Nervously, I looked around, but I was still alone, which prompted my executive decision to shut the grill and kill the fire.
About 10 minutes after he'd left, the Fiancee returned with his beer.

What happened to the fire? Why is it off?

Ummm...it's all done.

Wow! That was fast! Let's eat.

But I couldn't risk us both getting salmonella poisoning, so I quickly confessed to prematurely shutting off the heat. The Fiancee fired up the grill again and finished cooking the chicken.

Homemade Ice Cream

2007-10-31T09:43:00.000-07:00

What's your favorite flavor of ice cream? Coffee? Chocolate chip? Just plain old vanilla? Mine's black sesame. A friend first introduced me to black sesame ice cream years ago on a trip to Australia when exotic Asian ice cream flavors such as lychee, green tea, passionfruit and sweet corn hit Sydney as the new fad. At first, I was scared to try black sesame ice cream despite my friend's recommendations since it looked (and probably would taste) like charcoal. But as we went out for ice cream several times during my stay, I eventually mustered up the courage to try it, and it was the most delicious flavor I'd ever tasted. Every night after that until I boarded a flight back home, I went out for a scoop of black sesame ice cream after dinner.

I expected the ice cream fad to hit Monterey Park just as it had Australia, but it never did. Meanwhile, I scoured the Southland for another taste of black sesame ice cream, but only found a few pathetic excuses for the flavor. They weren't even trying! Any version of black sesame ice cream that I found in the US wasn't even black and only had a slight hint of sesame flavor.

After years of trying to find and buy black sesame ice cream to satisfy my cravings only to see me toss it aside and declare, "It's not like the one in Australia", the Fiancee finally gave up and bought me an ice cream machine so that I could make the perfect black sesame ice cream myself. I was so excited!! The first time I made ice cream, I wanted to follow the exact instructions so that I would know what homemade ice cream should taste like when it's made right. Only after that would I attempt to modify the recipe to suit my own tastes.

My new Hamilton Beach ice cream maker came with an easy recipe for a basic vanilla ice cream which could be modified to any flavor you'd like. Perfect! I'd follow the recipe and flavor it with black sesame powder. First, I put in lots of sugar, then lots of extremely fatty whipping cream, a tiny bit of skim milk, a drop of vanilla extract, and then a bunch of black sesame bars we'd bought from China which turned into a powder when crumbled. I had no idea how fatty ice cream could be. Just looking at this thick, lard-like mixture made me want to gag. But I was determined to make a pint of the perfect black sesame ice cream, so I dumped the concoction into the frozen, churning machine.

About 45 minutes later, the ice cream was done. After dipping a spoon into the machine to scoop up a tiny bite, my tongue rolled over the rich, flavorful ice cream. I had made a damn good version of black sesame ice cream, but aware that I was eating a once liquified, now frozen form of pure lard, I wanted to gag. No matter how good the ice cream was, I couldn't get he thick, soupy image out of my head. After seeing how much sugar and heavy cream were required, the Fiancee would barely touch it. I had to come up with a less fatty version.

So, I googled a low fat ice cream recipe, and found one that used soy milk and gelatin mixed with a little bit of apple juice as the emulsifying agent rather than heavy cream. The recipe reviews promised a great tasting, nonfat ice cream. I'd found it! I'd have an edible homemade ice cream in no time! Following the recipe, I boiled soy milk sweetened with honey and vanilla extract. Then I mixed in a packet of unflavored gelatin soaked in a few teaspoons of apple juice. Finally, I chilled the mixture in the refrigerator overnight, as the recipe had instructed. Expecting a runny soy mixture the next day, I was somewhat shocked to find a pot of solid soy vanilla jello as I was getting ready to pour the ingredients into the ice cream machine. Reasoning that it must be right, as I'd followed the instructions exactly, I loosened my jello and dumped it into the ice cream maker.

About a half hour later, I ended up with something that looked and tasted a lot like snow. The texture and flavor were so completely off that the Fiancee and I gagged trying to eat it. Now my freezer was full of "ice cream" that neither of us wanted to touch.

A couple of weeks later to prevent a buildup of "ice cream" in the freezer, I returned the machine. Supposedly, the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory makes black sesame ice cream. If I can't drag the Fiancee out there, I'll drag V instead.

Manhattan Girl No More

2007-10-25T19:38:00.000-07:00

As my previous post shows, I moved out of Manhattan and into Westchester a couple of months ago after having lived in the "city" for a little more than two years. Yes, yes, I know, I know. Why would you move out of the City? Have you gone mad?! Isn't that what you came to New York for? To live in a small, cramped, relatively overpriced apartment with a leaky faucet and sqeaky, slanted floors next to neighbors who know you about as intimately as you know them not because you've met before, but because the walls are so thin that you hear everything and anything that goes on behind them? And what about always being able to walk out onto a vibrant street full of lively people with the convenience of grocery stores, laundromats, and restaurants right at your doorstep? Ok, so never mind that all these damn people are always blocking your way as you need to dash down the street to do your laundry and somehow figure a way to carry several pounds of clean clothes and a week's worth of groceries simultaneously up five flights of stairs. Considering that you will never have to go to the gym and can knock out errands while fitting in a total body work out, it really can be quite time and cost effective.

Despite all of the little inconveniences, I did actually enjoy my time living in the city. Instead, I've traded the City for an extra 500+ square feet, brand new hardwood floors, granite counters, laundry machine and onsite gym complete with a full sized pool which is comforting on those days when I do miss living in the city.

The Fiancee and I had our week of "suburban awe" when we set foot into a Target for the first time in about two years. Not having adjusted to suburban living yet, we entered the store with our old "city mentality" which directed us to only choose necessary items in order to save on storage space, cost and the number of pounds we'd have to lug back with us. But things were so cheap and space so abundant that things started flying off the shelves and into our cart. Dishwashing fluid for only $.89! Let's get 1o! Costco sized soap bars packages for only $3! Let's get 2! Lamps! They're cheaper than IKEA! We need more lights! What about this bathmat? Let's get new shower curtains! It was the same story at the grocery store. Things were so cheap and easy to transport that we felt compelled to buy six pounds of grapes, two full bags of tomatoes, a gallon of olive oil, 4 tubs of yogurt, a couple of pineapples, 10 broccoli crowns, a 20 lb sack of rice and about twice as many "staple" items as we normally would. Meanwhile, we had a load of laundry going on at the apartment. All of these errands done, and we still had the whole day ahead of us.

Alright, so we live in a sleepy suburban town. But with the money and time we save from the conveniences that a suburb offers, we could get used to this. It's not the City, but we're only a 35 minute train ride away when we need the insanity of Manhattan to keep us sane.

The New Pad

2007-09-16T19:46:00.001-07:00

Entrance
Dining Table
Living Room
Living Room
Kitchen

Bedroom
Desk
Bathroom Bath Tub

Vanity

The Mirage of a Classy Chinese Restaurant

2007-09-01T23:42:00.000-07:00

A few days ago on Thursday evening, the Fiancee and I boarded a plane after work for a very brief trip to LA to scout out wedding ceremony and reception sites. I was a bit cranky on the plane, as I had managed to catch a nasty, snotty cold a few days prior which didn't seem to be getting any better. That, and I was pretty idle at work for most of the week until the day before I had to fly out when a huge ton of work hit me and I was stressing out about getting some tangible results out so that it didn't seem like I did nothing the whole week.

But anyway, we landed in LA really late on Thursday night, showered and then went to bed. The next day would be a busy day visting several reception sites that I had researched earlier. Initially, when I first starting thinking about how my wedding would be, I imagined a smaller, more intimate event with about 150 people max, preferably 100. The wedding might be at the Glass Chapel (Wayfarer's Chapel) in PV, and the reception would be catered with rich, luxurious French food served by white-tuxedoed waiters under a tent lit by lanterns and the moon overlooking the cliffs as ocean waves pounded agains the sides.

But then reality hit. I'm Chinese, and so is my Fiancee. I'm the first to get married among my siblings, and he's the treasured boy of his clan. When I annouced to my cousin at her wedding of nearly 300 guests that my event would be much smaller with about 150 people max, she smiled and then laughed a "you poor, naiive little girl" laugh. I suppose I should have known better since we were cousins and shared much of the same extended family. About a month after my cousin got married, my parents called to let me know that they would probably need space for about 100 guests on their side. The Fiancee's mom already had a list of 100 people from his sister's wedding a few years earlier. That was already 200 people without any of our friends. Now I was looking at a guest list of at least 250 people, maybe even 280-300!

With that, the Glass Chapel having a max capacity of 100 disappeared along with my white tuxedoed waiters and the tent overlooking the water at night. It would never work with 250+ guests, and the cost would be astronomical. As my vision came crashing down, the Fiancee decided to alert me that the majority of our guests would be Chinese people of my parent's generation that could care less about the decor and beautiful everything of the whole event, but would care only about the food. And with Chinese people, the only good food is well-prepared Chinese food, meaning that the only way to please our guests would be to have a Chinese wedding banquet. It was now raining, and pouring heavily. In denial, I didn't want to think of the wedding anymore.

But as is always with me, I came around to the idea a few weeks later when I decided to search wedding venues online. I wasn't too keen on the Chinese banquet idea, so I only checked out American style wedding packages. In these past couple of years, the Fiancee had managed to turn me into a bit of a foodie. As I scanned the reception menus, I was really turned off at how ordinary the menu items were. Nothing seemed appetizing, and the packages were so restrictive in not allowing outside caterers and dictating where your cake had to come from. With the capacity I needed, most of the reception sites had to be banquet halls which looked fine, but not spectacular. It was then that I decided, out of curiosity, to see what a Chinese wedding banquet menu would include.

But where would I find these restaurants? They weren't listed as options on the usual wedding sites such as theknot, officiantguy, herecomestheguide, or other similar wedding sites. So, I googled "Chinese wedding banquet Los Angeles". The results turned up various people's blogs and chat threads of people that had either been to a Chinese banquet wedding recently or were Asian American brides searching for "classy" Chinese venues just like me. Through these sites, I discovered that Prince Seafood in Cerritos, CA was quite popular amoung Chinese American brides for it's elegant decor with good Chinese food. I immediately googled their website to see a sample banquet menu which made my mouth water after previously reading through the bland American options of chicken, beef and rice pilaf. It was then that I decided to focus on having a Chinese banquet reception. The Fiancee was quite pleased that he wouldn't have to battle this one with me.

Equipped with his new TomTom and my list of about 10 Chinese banquet sites, the Fiancee and I set out a little before noon on Friday to San Gabriel. The Fiancee was quite excited to try out his latest gadget, which he set to have a British female voice directing us around.

Turn right at the road ahead.

In about 800 metres, turn right.

In about 400 metres, turn right and enter the motorway .

Turn right and enter the motorway.

We were now on the 110N, getting ready to catch the 91E to the 710N to the 10E, off at Atlantic Blvd.

Exit the motorway and turn right. Turn right. Turn right. Turn right.

LANYTransplant: Persistent little lady, isn't she?

After a few more twists and turns we were at our first destination: Capital Seafood Restaurant on Garvey in Monterey Park. At first glance, the place looked horribly disappointing located in a run down strip mall with a cracked parkinglot surrounded by cheap looking storefronts. But when we opened the doors and went it, it wasn't bad. The place had a maximum capacity of 60 tables (10 ppl per table) and was nicely decorated, bright with chandeliers, gilt column pillars and a decent-sized dance floor. But our party would only fill up about half the restaurant. The restaurant was one big open space without any private rooms, meaning that they would only put up partitions (not tall enough to even come close to hitting the ceiling) to section off our area. I was turned off by this, but wanted to keep an open mind, considering that the interior decor was passable and the menu quite appetizing.

Next, we noticed that the next restaurant, Empress Harbor was right across the street and moved our car into their parking garage. Again, this was another tacky looking mall, but at least not so run-down as the lot at Capital Seafood. The minute we walked into Empress Harbor, we wanted to walk out. The interior decor was painfully plain, screamed Chinese dim-sum house, and had absolutely no ambiance. As we were about to walk out, I noticed a sign advertising a banquet room and VIP room. Could it be that there was a nicer room available that we weren't seeing? Nope. The Fiancee asked, and the manager stated that we were standing in the banquet and VIP room which they would create by putting up partitions to section off our banquet area.

Next, we were off to see Ocean Star which was down the block located in another mall. The interior here was a little bit better than Empress Harbor, but still very Chinese restaurant looking and completely unimpressive. The only good slightly better thing about this venue was that their partitions were attached to the ceiling, so they could create a space almost like a private room, but the location and decor was just so tacky!

By now, I was highly discouraged, thinking that there was no way to escape having a tacky Chinese wedding banquet. Nothing would go even remotely as I had once planned. Now I understood why my coworker who faced a similar situation decided to run off to Mexico and get married on a beach with a few close friends attending only. There would be no family at all until she flew back to the States where her family would throw her a tacky Chinese wedding banquet.
Despite being close to hitting this point, I hopped back into the car with the Fiancee and headed off in the wrong direction to our next destination: NBC Seafood.

LANYTransplant: Where am I going? Did you turn off the TomTom? Why is she so quiet? She's got nothing to say for once?

Fiancee: Ooops! I shut her off. I'll turn her back on.

After 400 metres, turn left and make a u-turn.

LANYTransplant: 400 metres? Seriously, I don't know how far that is. Why doesn't she know street names?

[Because I'm British! You asked for a British accent to direct you around!]

Make a u-turn. Make a u-turn.

LANYTransplant: Why am I making a u-turn? Is that right?

Make a u-turn.

Fiancee: Hmmm...not sure. Just keep going straight. Give me a few minutes to look this up.

Make a u-turn. [Turn around you stupid morons! You're going the wrong way! You have no idea where you're going! And why are you looking things up on a map?! What was the point of buying me if you're not going to trust that I'm programmed to be right when it comes to directions!]

Make a u-turn.

Fiancee: Hey, turn around. You're going the wrong way. We're headed the wrong direction.

Make a u-turn.

LANYTransplant: Guess she was right.

[Damn right I'm right!]

A few minutes later, we'd arrived at NBC Seafood. The outside looked a bit more promising than the rest, but the inside was the same Chinese restaurant feel. There were no private rooms, and the place would be sectioned off with low-reaching partitions. As this was the fourth place we'd been to, and all disappointing, I'd given up hope that any other Chinese restaurant would be any different. I crossed off 3 or 4 other places, not wanting to waste my time even looking at them. I only had enough energy to be disappointed looking at two more places, and then I wanted to call it a day.

The Fiancee programmed the address for Mission 261 in the San Gabriel Valley into his TomTom. It was about 3 miles away, located in the Mission district away from all of the tacky strip malls and complexes of Monterey Park. As we drove through the area, we were charmed by the old, Spanish architecture of the area. Finally, we were in front of Mission 261 which looked nothing like a Chinese restaurant on the outside. It looked like an old Spanish adobe house and had a quaint outside patio for outdoor dining. When we walked in, a manager led us down a long corridor into various private rooms with elegantly high ceilings. The place looked nothing like your typical Chinese restaurant. Both of our eyes lit up. The manager showed us the largest room, capably of holding 280 - 300 people with a stage area up front. The furniture looked a little shoddy, but that would be taken care of with decorative seat covers and table linens that could transform the room into an elegant wedding banquet with a delectable Chinese menu. Now, I was really excited! I wouldn't have to run off to a Mexican resort!

With this, the Fiancee and I hopped into the car and hit mad traffic en route to our final destination: Prince Seafood in Cerritos. In the car, the Fiancee talked of how he loved the Spanish architecture of the Mission 261 restaurant's area. The restaurant also had a huge parking lot off to the side that could accomodate a large wedding party.

About a half hour later, we'd arrived at Prince Seafood in Cerritos. Having just come from a charming Spanish-style town, the parking lot and surrounding areas of Prince Seafood were nothing special, but not as bad as the first four restaurants we visited. When we opened the doors to the restaurant, I was quite amazed. The interior had elegant, large glass windows, high ceilings and beautifully covered tables and chairs with a capacity of 25 tables (250 people) in a nearly private room (the main entrance stayed open, but the room would be completely yours). My eyes lit up again. Two elegant Chinese restaurants with exotic Chinese menus!

Mission accomplished. Our work was done for the day.

Stripper Shoes

2007-08-26T18:39:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago, I ran across a summer sale clothing catalog from Victoria's Secret and decided to browse through their dresses and shoes to see if anything would interest me. Their sale prices were so great and their items so cute that I found myself ordering a short sleeved cardigan, white shirtdress, PJ set and closed-toed pumps all for only about $120 with free shipping!

Why so cheap? Because everything is cheap. All of the items were of such poor quality and ill fit that I ended up returning every item except for the cardigan. The shirtdress was huge on me, somewhat see-through and bore a striking resemblance to a lab coat. It just hung straight down with absolutely no shape. The PJ set was also huge (supposedly it should shrink to fit you after a wash or two) and felt like it would fall apart after a couple of washes. Yet, these items looked so fabulous in the catalogs, but I guess anything you put on a super tall, super skinny, ample chested woman with perfect skin and bone structure is bound to look great.

For some reason, though, I failed to notice that the closed-toed pumps that I bought for work looked like stripper shoes and didn't include them in my return shipment. About a month and a half later, I ran across the box of shoes as the Fiancee and I were packing things up for our move. I tried them on again and noticed that the heel was a lot higher than I remembered, the fit a lot tighter and the coverage a lot skimpier (it left the area where my toes attach to my foot exposed). Was it all in my head, or should I return them?

Hey, do these look alright?

They look uncomfortably tight. I can tell that they're squishing your foot. You're not actually going to wear those stripper shoes to work, are you?

No, of course not! I'm returning them. I just wanted to show you.

Great. They were stripper shoes, and I didn't even know it. I was kicking myself for not including them in my return shipment. Now I would have to pay postage all over again, and I didn't have another return label. So I called up Victoria's Secret customer service to find out how I would return these shoes without a return form which I'd sent off already the first time around. Simple solution - just print another return form from their website, fill out and go to the post office.

The only problem was that our printer was already boxed up and would stay boxed up for another week at least. I had a few days left to return the shoes or only be eligible for store credit. I'd have to print the form out at work and run to the post office down the street at lunch. Sounded convenient enough, but my concern was being caught printing out a Victoria's Secret return form from the office's shared printers. Initially, I'd resolved to print the form out after work when no one was around, but having moved to White Plains, I was now confined to a train schedule which made waiting for people to clear out inconvenient for my commute. So, I monitored the printers to find a time when no one seemed to be printing.

Meanwhile, I really needed a new pair of shoes, but had no time to shoe shop with the move happening. By now I'd been all over the city in my work shoes attending numerous after-work events so that my work shoes were looking worn and leaving painfully uncomfortable blisters. I tried my best not to walk too much around the office until the weekend came and I could shop.

Sitting at my desk working and trying to block out the pain in my feet, I noticed that the two nearest printers had gone quiet. People were done printing. I waited a couple of minutes for everyone to pick up their jobs and then logged onto the Victoria's Secret website to print out my return form. Taking a deep breath, I clicked on the print button and then...ready, set, go! Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

I made it to the printer only to discover that it went quiet because it was out of paper and stuck halfway through someone's print job. Crap! I've got to purge my job before my return form ends up in the middle of their report. Alright, calm down, they'll never know it belongs to me.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. As I ran back to my desk, I noticed the girl who printed the report checking her print que for the report printing status. Back at my desk, I clicked open the print que and, to my horror, saw print job, victoriassecret.com, owner LANYTransplant directly beneath her report. Cancel, cancel, cancel! It was too late. I'm sure she saw. At least it was a girl.

I waited for her to refill the printer paper before re-submitting my print job and discreetly picked up my return form. All this to get $20 refunded to me minus the $5 it took to ship the shoes back...

Getting Ready to Move

2007-07-19T16:56:00.001-07:00

I'm moving at the end of the month which is why it's been really busy and hectic for a while. There's a lot of work and headaches involved in a move which is why I try not to do it too often, but I find myself moving about once every couple of years. Hopefully, this one will be more permanent. Maybe it'll last for 5 years. But anyway, here is all of the crap I've had to deal with for this move.

1) Furniture shopping:

I knew I wouldn't be living in Manhattan forever, so I purposely requested that our furniture be from IKEA and not too expensive so that when the day came to move, we could just dump everything, rather than have to transport it wherever we end up. We spent the last couple of weeks trying to get good deals on nice furniture, and ended up with some nice dining table chairs on sale at Pier One, a heavily discounted brand new high quality matress from Sleepy's (we just happened to walk in at the right time when the manager was itching to make a deal), and a moderatly priced huge, huge couch. We're now looking for a dining table and a coffee table. I'm so in love with the Noguchi table, but it's $1200. I guess I'll have to settle for a repro.

Of course, buying all this furniture isn't all fun and games, especially when you get dishonest salespeople who will do anything to push a sale:

Setting: Jennifer Convertible in White Plains

Fiancee: Hey, I really like this couch and chaise, and it's on sale, but it's still a bit pricey.
LANYTransplant: It's nice. Ask the sales lady how long the sale prices are good for.
Fiancee: Miss, how long are these prices good for?
Shady Lady: It's a fourth of July sale, so it ends today. If you want that price, you need to buy it today.
Fiancee: I went to a JC in Manhattan, and they told me that the sale prices are good through the weekend.
Shady Lady: Nope. If you don't buy it today, you'll have to pay a lot more tomorrow.

Meanwhile, the Fiancee called the JC in Manhattan who told him that all sale prices are good through the weekend everywhere.

The difference between a man and a woman:

Fiancee: I hate how girls think that just because they're pretty they can get away with shit like that.
LANYTransplant: She's not pretty. She's just a bitch.

2) Showing our apt to prospective new tenants:

Prospective couple: Wow, this is a really cute place. You guys have kept it so well that your hardwood floors are still shiny with very few scratches! I've looked at a lot of places, and the floors are all dirty and dull and totally scratched. Can you believe one of the places I looked at had these floors that sloped down, weren't even level, and were asking for like $1500 in rent? The broker was like, it adds character! Character?! No, the floor's all slanted.

Hmmm...I saw the ad for our place on Craigslist, so I know the landlord is asking for $1498. This girl obviously has no idea that she's standing on some severly slanted floors. Funny that she never questioned the mosquito net hanging over our bed, but then again she probably has no idea what it is. Should I tell her about any of this?

Prospective couple: Oh, and if we get this place, we're interested in buying most of your furniture.

Nope, I'll keep quiet. It adds character.

3) Getting rid of my gym membership.

Signing up for a gym is always pleasant. They give you a nice tour, ask you to try the place out for a couple of days free, and answer all of your questions until you're satisfied. Now cancelling or trying to transfer a gym membership is a completely different story.

LANYTransplant: Hello, NYSC. My contract isn't up yet, but I don't need a membership anymore and want to discuss if there's anything I can do.

NYSC Jack@$$ (sounding tired and exasperated): No, there's nothing you can do. Ride your contract out.

LANYTransplant: Nothing at all?

NYSC Jack@$$: You can only get out of it if you quit your job, have no gym within 25 miles of your home, or you have a medical condition.

LANYTransplant: Can I transfer my membership to someone?

NYSC Jack@$$ (sounding really annoyed): No.

LANYTransplant: Then why does it say in my contract, "I understand that my contract is transferrable?"

NYSC Jack@$$: Alright, I'll look into it for you.

Several extremely annoying conversations later, I managed to supposedly get my contract cancelled penalty free.

Nickels and Dimes

2007-06-27T17:32:00.000-07:00

Nickels and dimes are minor annoyances of our currency. Pennies should be banned. I understand why quarters are useful. You need them to pay the parking meter, do your laundry and, these days, to get a gumball out of a candy machine. So I don't mind so much when the coin holder in my wallet accumulates a bunch of quarters. But nickels, dimes and pennies are a waste of space and make my wallet fat in a bad way. Regardless, I still keep them in my wallet and try to get rid of them when I can. Yep, I'm the annoying girl at the cash register who takes her time trying to count out the most coin consuming way to make $.83 when you're in a hurry. The Fiancee, on the other hand, dumps all of his change for the day into a coin purse, never carrying any of it around.

After fishing through the coin purse one day for quarters, I noticed that it had gotten so fat that it wouldn't zip up. With very few quarters in it, the entire thing was full of nickels, dimes and pennies. Ugh! They had to go, so I came up with a plan to always keep a dollar in change in my wallet to gradually get rid of these.

The next day, I needed to go to the post office to buy $.02 stamps to supplement all of my $.39 stamps and mail off a letter. I was giddy with glee when I found that the stamp dispensing machine accepted all coins - even pennies! With this, I vowed to come back and convert all of my useless change into stamps since stamps are always useful, and I need the $.02 supplements anyway. I bought a row of stamps and then made a mental note to refill my wallet with coins and convert the rest.

I got lazy and didn't return to the post office right away. A week or so later, I flew out to LA to be a bridesmaid in my cousin's wedding and to visit friends and family. During this time, I took a half a day to hang out with a friend at Manhattan Beach where I had to pay for metered parking. Once again, I was delighted to find that Manhattan Beach meters take nickels and dimes. With this, I dumped in enough change to buy me two hours of parking so that I could walk out to the pier and chat with my friend while we watched the surfers and boogeyboarders in the water. After about a half hour of this, we walked in the little beach village to find a place for lunch. Lunch consisted of a delicious corn chowder and freshly shucked oysters. Mmmm! My favorite!

After downing an Irish car bomb, it was time to dump in a few extra coins into the meter. We each ran to our respective cars to buy a bit more time. When I got to mine, I opened up my wallet only to find that there were no more nickels and dimes! All I had left was a useless strip of stamps.

Sunday Morning

2007-06-14T14:29:00.000-07:00

It happened last Sunday. The Boy woke up early as usual and was out running a bunch of errands, while I slept in. A couple of hours later when I woke up, the Boy burst into the bedroom with a vase holding two dozen roses. Hmmm...that's a little different.

Wait. No, don't get up. Stay there. I have a little surprise for you.

I sat in bed, and a few minutes later he came in with a breakfast tray stand with french pastries, fresh fruit, coffee and cranberry juice.

Where did those trays come from? Did you just run out and get those?

Huh? No, I got them when you were out with your coworkers on Friday. Stop asking so many questions. I'm serving you breakfast in bed today.

I noticed the cranberry juice on my tray. This would explain why he was so persistent in trying to find out my favorite juice a few days ago:

What's your favorite juice?
I don't know. I like all types of juice.
I noticed you don't drink orange juice too much. Do you not like orange juice?
I do like orange juice. I just don't have a preference for it when I have other choices.
What about grape juice?
I like that, too.
Do you like grape juice more than orange?
I don't know. Alright, so if I have to pick a favorite, I guess it would be cranberry.
Do you like cranberry more than grape?
Yes.
Do you like cranberry more than orange?
Yes.

On Friday night, I noticed a new bottle of cranberry juice in the fridge, but thought nothing of it.

We sat in bed, both eating our breakfasts and chatting happily. At this point, I was wondering if something "big" was going to happen. When we were done eating, the Boy suggested we clean up the dishes a bit. Nope, nothing going to happen today. Just a nice gesture for the sake of being nice. After the dishes were cleaned, he asked me to go back into the room, close my eyes and wait. He had a little surprise for me. Ooooo! Could this be it? When I opened my eyes, he had a little raspberry cake on the tray. Nope, guess not. Still a very sweet gesture, though.

Go on, take a bite of the cake.
Oooo! Maybe it's hidden in the cake? But that would be kinda tacky.

I put my fork into the cake. Nothing there. The Boy came over next to me, and the two of us ate cake together, chatting again. About halfway through, he asked me to look under the plate. I lifted the plate up, and underneath was a card. Written inside, it said, "My dearest [name], I love you. Please find a surprise underneath the table."

Smiling big, my hands reached under the tray, scanning for something, and at the lower left hand corner, I felt a little box, and that was how the Boy became the Fiancee.

China Highlights

2007-05-30T19:50:00.001-07:00

I'm back from my China trip now, and the jetlag's starting to kick in. I'm perfectly fine right until about 2PM (coincidentally not too long after lunch) when I have the sudden urge to crash. The fatigue, combined with my contact wearing and staring at a computer all day long, turned my eyes completely bloodshot to the point of compelling me to find some eye drops. So a little after lunch, I sleepily wandered the streets of Soho looking a little stoned and frustrated that there were no drugstores anywhere nearby. The best I could do was to find some Visine at a general store down the street. Definitely not the best solution for someone who wears contacts.

But anyway, to summarize the rest of my China trip, we left Beijing after visiting the Temple of Heaven and flew out to Xian, a former Chinese capital a long time ago. The major site there were the terra cotta soldiers, an army made of terra cotta clay that an Emperor built for his future burial. The grave was ransacked and burned during a peasant uprising not too long after the Emperor died, but remained undiscovered after that until the 1970s when a farmer digging a well stumbled upon the terra cotta soldiers buried underground. Archaelogists had to reconstruct and re-assemble most of these since they were in pieces after the grave had been looted. The site was vast and pretty amazing. Dinner that night was at a local dumpling house where we sampled 18 different types of dumplings among other things. As the dumplings were mostly skin with an undetectable filling, the Boy and I weren't too impressed. We'd had better dumplings at Dim Sum GoGo in New York, dumpling houses in LA, and a dumpling house in San Jose. It was apparent that the Boy and I had been spoiled living in cities with some of the best Chinese food in America, as other tour-goers (all Chinese Americans) remarked that the dumplings were marvelous, especially since there are only two types of dumplings served in the US - shumai and hargow.

Later that night, the Boy and I ventured out in search of the nightlife. Our hotel was about a 10 minute walk right outside of the city wall. Inside the city wall, we found a bustling night market with stands selling dried fruit, packaged Chinese snacks, combs made of some type of bone material, and other souvenir-type items. Lined on either side of the street were vendors selling skewered meats, eight treasures rice pudding on a stick, mochi, and fried Chinese pancakes filled with chives and pork. As we were still full of ~~dumplings~~ dumpling skins, we could only sample a stick of rice pudding and take bites of a chive and pork filled pancake. What caught my eyes were the different types of Chinese people in Xian. Since this is a Muslim region of China, I saw Chinese women with headscarves and Uigher Chinese children with light brown hair and green eyes.

After wandering through most of the night market, we crossed the city wall back to our hotel and found a huge festival-like gathering lit up by red paper lanterns with locals dancing to the beat of drums or singing in groups. The Boy and I nearly got killed trying to cross the street to see this. As there are no traffic lights to control cars and pedestrians, crossing the street in Xian is a lot like playing the old computer game "Frogger" where you're now the frog.

For the rest of the time, we flew out to Hangzhou, Souzhou and Wuxi where we visited a tea plantation, bought lots of "emperor" grade dragon well tea, visited a silk factory, pearl factory and another jade factory, visited some temples and gardens and saw the beautiful West Lake.

We spent our last day in Shanghai where we toured around the Bund and shopped at the Bazaar and on Nanjing Road. The shopping was great for me out in Shanghai. I got two dresses, a coat, and two nice tops all for less than $150!

Sightseeing in Beijing Part II

2007-05-21T08:29:00.000-07:00

The next day we had to wake up earlier and leave for our tour at 8AM to beat the Monday morning traffic. Supposedly, we were only going 20 miles away to see the Ming tombs, and it would take almost 2 hours to arrive.

We didn't find the tombs all that interesting. It was all just a bunch of cement underground and a bunch of gigantic red coffins with a Ming emperor's remains, his empress, his favorite concubine and a bunch of red chests holding jewelry and other items to take into the afterlife. Before lunch, we stopped at a cloisonne factory where we saw how enamel art was made. The Boy and I each bought a pair of chopsticks made of ox-bone and decorated with cloisonne art.

The highlight of the day was climbing the Great Wall which was pretty amazing. We hiked through the less traveled South side for a little while and then turned back to see why the North side was so crowded with tourists. We liked the South side better because the views were unobstructed with a gazillion people in your way, and it was more peaceful. The North side may have been a bit of an easier climb, but there were just too many people. All along the Great Wall were local vendors selling t-shirts, marble carvings, hats and other souvenir items. I saw a cute red shirt with little pandas sprawled along the Great Wall and pointed it out to the Boy. With his wonderful bargaining power (he speaks Chinese), he was able to get us 2 t-shirts (he got a Mao shirt) for only 30 rmb (a little more than $2 each!). Later, at the base of the Wall, I saw a woman trying to sell her t-shirts to a man for 85 rmb each!

Out last stop before dinner was at a jade factory where we learned of the different types of jade and how to tell real jade from fake by the sound it make when "clinked". I thought the funniest thing was seeing huge jade pieces carved into the shape of napa cabbages. Supposedly, this was supposed to bring good luck, but I don't think I could bring myself to display a decorative jade vegetable on my mantle.

Since this would be our last night in Beijing, the Boy and I wanted to try and scout out a nightlife scene. We asked the tour guides for suggestions, and once again, they told us that there was nothing to see. No one went out at night in Beijing, so just wait for Shanghai where we would find what we were looking for. I was feeling pretty miserable by now with my cold, so I was fine staying in. But as we drove back to our hotel, the Boy and I noticed a tiny street nearby that looked like a night market, and with that we decided to go out and see how the real locals lived.

We walked down the street of our hotel and made an immediate left. A couple of nights before, the tourguide told us that if we really had to walk around, make a right out of the hotel and get a piece of cake at Starbucks. To the right of the hotel, there was nothing except a bunch of closed restaurants as we had seen before. But the left was a completely different story. There were very very few tourists here. It was all local people eating street food and skewered meats along a dimly lit corridor full of run down looking restaurants. Some vendors were out selling fruit or clothes. Because the Boy and I have Asian faces, we passed through under the radar, but somewhere along the way, a couple of tall, blonde German boys strolled through, turning heads and receiving stares from everyone.

At the end of the corridor, we made a right where there were a bunch of shops and people walking about. The shops weren't all shady-you'd see a very nice bakery, restaurant or clothing store in between massage parlors with scantily clad girls offering "happy endings" with their services.

The Boy and I walked around this area for about an hour checking out the scene before heading back to the hotel to rest up for the next day.

Sightseeing in Beijing Part I

2007-05-20T07:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the first sightseeing day in Beijing, and by then my cold was full blown. When I left New York last Friday, I'd woken up with a sore throat and was hoping it was allergy related, but no. I'd caught a cold right before leaving for vacation. How miserable!

Anyway, the Boy woke up early at around 4AM because of jetlag, while I slept in till 7AM. With nothing to do, he wandered out onto the street to check out the early morning scene. It was really weird - before 6AM there were illegal makeshift markets set up with vendors selling used merchandise such as old shoes and clothes. As one fellow tour member stated, it looked like a bunch of poor Chinese people having a huge garage sale outside. By the time I got out to board the bus at 9AM, the entire scene had disappeared. According to the tour guide, it is illegal for these people to set up their markets, but they did it to cater to the poor construction workers nearby who sometimes need something but can't afford much.

The Boy and I met downstairs for breakfast at around 7:30AM. We were excited to have what we thought should have been an authentic Chinese breakfast, as previous tour-goers had told us. But we were shocked to see bacon, eggs, an omlet station, and salad bar. The Chinese food that we did see was Americanized with a veggie chow mein, fried rice, sauteed veggies, and steamed buns filled with either vegetables or a sweet mung bean paste which, to my amusement, was mislabeled as "red bean pasta." The only really authentic Chinese food was the congee.

After breakfast, we met in the lobby at 9AM to begin our first day of sightseeing. The first stop was Tiananmen Square where we walked around and took pictures. The place was full of tourists, both international and domestic. It was interesting to see the different Chinese faces. When I'd been to Hong Kong before, everyone looked very similar. The boys were lanky and mostly fair-skinned. The girls were generally thin, had skin the color and smoothness of milk and looked a bit more refined. Although the girls in China are generally thin and fine-boned (In America, I'm thin. In China, I'm a meaty girl), their skin tone varies from the smooth, milk-white skin that is so typical of all girls in Hong Kong to the weather beaten tan of peasants. Actually, a lot of people were tan and looked like they worked out in the sun. Another interesting thing to note is that people were relatively tall, especially the boys in the PLA (People's Liberation Army). There must be a height requirement to join the army in China because there wasn't one boy I saw where I went any higher than their shoulder. Northern Chinese people are taller, though. In Beijing, I'm still short as in America.

The next stop after Tiananmen Square was the Forbidden City which was huge with 9,999 1/2 rooms. The most interesting part of the Forbidden City was seeing the concubine's wing where the Empress Dowager (Cixi) lived, especially since I read Anchee Min's book, Empress Orchid, a little while ago. I saw her courtyard and peeked through the glass to see her living chambers. I was surprised to see how small her bed was. It was only the size of a twin bed.

The rest of the day was spent touring the summer palace a little while away and then seeing an acrobatics show before dinner, which I found very entertaining. They did some pretty amazing tricks, but I think everyone was tired because no one was clapping. One girl stood in split pose on one toe balanced on a guy's shoulder. Another guy was able to catch porcelain bowls on his head which he flipped in the air while standing on a board which was balanced on a cylinder rolling on a board balanced on the head of another boy who stood on another board balanced on a rolling cylinder while holding two girls on each arm. And everyone was too asleep to clap!

At the end of the day, the Boy and I ordered two masseuses to our room and had an hour and a half long massage for only 20 USD each!

China Day 2

2007-05-19T09:18:00.000-07:00

It's midnight in China now, and I'm blogging in my hotel room. Blogger's all in Chinese again, and this time it's not because of the language setting on my computer. Anyway, I'm on vacation in China for 10 days on a tour that the Boy and I signed up for.

We left New York 2 hours later than we were supposed to at around 6:30PM on Friday and got into Beijing a little before 8PM on Saturday. With all the time it took to get our luggage, find everyone on the tour and drop everyone off to their hotels, it was 10PM by the time we were settled in. How annoying! We've done nothing yet, and already two days of our tour have passed (one day on the plane, and this day counts as day 2).

We're staying at the Days Inn in Beijing. When the coach bus pulled up to the hotel, I was a bit disappointed, thinking that a Day's Inn is supposed to be a 5 star hotel in China? Then I got into the lobby and was pleasantly surprised. It's nothing like a Days Inn in the States. The lobby was grand, Vegas-style with a couple of restaurants, gift shops, gym and pool. The restaurant showcased a tropical fish tank and a seal displayed nearby with a pool for it to swim in. Ok, well the seal was kinda sad. It looked so lonely with its scared eyes that the Boy and I pitied it.

Our room was nice and fully stocked with all the amenities. We even got slippers and bathrobes to lounge around in. We freshened ourselves up with showers and then decided to walk around the area even though everyone told us that there was really nothing around, and that Beijing doesn't have much of a nightlife. The tour guide told us that 11PM is considered really late to be walking around (yikes!) and that Chinese people like to stay at home. He wasn't kidding. Nothing was open except other hotels. There were some people out walking around, too. But other than that, it was pretty dead. We ended up buying some lychees and other strange new fruit from a stand and going back to the hotel. The fruit was more expensive than what we imagined fruit in China to cost (we spent about USD 10), but it was delicious! The lychees were extremely plump, juicy and sweet. The other strange fruit tasted like a cross between a raspberry and a strawberry. Mmmmm!

Alright, got to try to sleep now. Tomorrow's supposed to be a full day with a lot of sightseeing.

Brooklyn Botanical Gardens

2007-05-18T08:45:00.000-07:00

A couple of weekends ago, the Boy and I went to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens to see the cherry blossoms out at their full peak. In order to beat the crowds, we got up early and headed out after having a quick bite to eat. After about 45 minutes on the subway, we were there and got in free with the early bird special (supposedly, admission is free if you come in before noon, and we love free stuff). Of course the garden was very well groomed. I don't think I've ever seen cherry blossoms, so they were nice, but what really impressed me was their tulip garden. I think tulips are my new favorite flower (even though I didn't really have an old favorite).

Like a Fish Out of Water

2007-04-17T19:03:00.000-07:00

A little more than a month ago, I signed up for swim lessons at my gym. Why? Because I'm 2x years old, grew up with a pool in my backyard (which gradually became a fish pond), and I still don't know how to swim. With these simple steps, I finally took action after telling myself year after year that I would learn how to swim.

Step 1: Sign up for class.

Ring! Ring!

NYSC receptionist: Hello, New York Sports Club.
Lanytransplant: Hi, I'd like to sign up for your spring session beginner swim group.
NYSC receptionist: Sure! Name and age of your child, please.
Lanytransplant: Child? But, I don't have a child.
NYSC receptionist: Who are these lessons for?
Lanytransplant: You advertised an adult beginner swim group, so they're for me.
NYSC receptionist: Ok, let me transfer you.

Blah, blah, blah. I'm signed up for Tuesday evening classes.

Step 2: Show up for the weekly classes.

Tuesday evenings, 7PM

Class 1: There's only one other adult in the class with me. I'm excited, as this is practically a private swim lesson now.
Agenda: Kick while holding onto the wall, learn to blow bubbles in the water, do laps with a kickboard.
Class 2:
Agenda: Laps with a kickboard, learn to stroke and breathe in the water with a flotation device. Instructor tries to coax me into letting go of the flotation device. I refuse. I need it! It's only been two lessons. Is he crazy?!!
Class 3: A new girl joins. See, there are a sizeable number of adults that don't know how to swim.
Agenda: More practice stroking and breathing in the water with a flotation device. I refuse to give up the flotation device again.
Class 4: New girl swims without any flotation aids on her second lesson. Her second lesson!! The competitive spirit in me comes out, and with this, I toss the flotation device over my head. I'm swimming today! Deep breath, deep breath, and I'm off. Head in the water, arms stroking. Blow bubbles while under water, turn head to the right and breathe. Doing good! Blow bubbles under water, turn head to the right and, oops!, missed the breath. Breathing in water now, not getting any air. Breathing in more water. Crap! Water in the lungs! Water in the lungs! And I've lost the rythym. Gurgle, gurlge, gurlge, ahah!, ahah!, ahah! No go.
Class 5:
Agenda: More practice swimming and trying not to choke. Learning to swim on my back with a flotation device.

Step 3: Practice on the weekends.

The pool's usually crowded on the weekend no matter what time I go. With only four lanes in this tiny pool, it's very common for two people to share a lane. Consistently being the worst and least experienced swimmer, I'm always very intimidated during my weekend practices.

I feel sorry for anyone who shares the lane with me because I'm slow and I can't always swim in a straight line. I collided with a girl once. Good thing I wasn't moving too fast.

I'm also pretty dependent upon being next to a wall so that I'll have something stable to grab onto when I choke. The lane dividers are too sensitive to waves, so they're not the best things for a beginner to grab onto. Unfortunately, I have to take whatever lane I can get.

Last weekend, I finally felt comfortable giving up my kickboard and wanted to practice my freestyle swim. But the only half open lane was a middle lane. Too scared to swim without a wall as my security blanket, I grabbed a kickboard and decided to warm up in the middle lane while monitoring the side wall lanes for openings. About 15 minutes later, a side wall lane opened up.

Excited, I jumped out of the water right as a guy walked over to swim in the open side lane. As he stood outside his side wall lane, I stood outside my middle lane, debating whether or not I should ask him to switch lanes. How else would I get a chance to practice comfortably without a kickboard? Lost in thought, I had no idea that I was staring at him the whole time I was debating on what to do. The guy looked over at me, gave me a strange look and nodded his head up at me.

He thinks I'm checking him out! Oh, get over yourself already! I don't want you! I want your lane!

I wanted to throw my kickboard at him, but I needed it. Too embarrassed now to try to switch lanes, I hopped back into my middle lane and splashed about with my kickboard. Eventually, the other side lane half opened up, and I ducked under the dividers to claim my wall. Now I could practice my freestyle!

Vermont Roadtrip!

2007-03-24T20:37:00.000-07:00

A few of weekends ago, another of the Boy's coworkers offered us his vacation home in Vermont for a weekend. Yes, I know. It's becoming a rule that everyone working for an East Coast hedge fund own a vacation home in Vermont. The Boy's coworker even had free lift tickets to Mount Snow for both of us!

We left immediately after work on Friday, driving a rental car. The four hour ride went pretty smoothly aside from us not being able to get the trunk open and having our equipment bang about in the back.

It was icy, snowy, dark and cold when we arrived. The first thing we did was to turn the heaters on in every floor. The house was quite large with lots of winter recreation equipment. The first floor had three bedrooms with many bunk beds, a bathroom and laundry machine. The next floor had a bedroom, large kitchen, living room and huge, huge game room. Separated from everything else by clear, glass french doors, the game room had a really cool bar area with a pool table, darts, foozeball table and general lounge area in front of a fireplace. But it was so freezing in there that all we could do was turn on the space heater and run out while it warmed up overnight.

The third floor was where we slept in a guest room. It was late, so we decided to get a good night's sleep and be well rested for a full day's skiing the next day.

The next morning we left the house early to ski and snowboard at Mount Snow where the conditions couldn't have been better. The weather was relatively warm, and the snow was so thick and powdery that neither of us hit any ice patches on the slopes. Without any big, obnoxious snow makers going as there were at Stratton last time, we got in several good runs and barely fell.

On the way back to the house, we stopped by a supermarket to pick up a few groceries. Since Vermont isn't particularly known for their nightlife, we decided to stay in, cook and enjoy what the house had to offer. The game room was sufficiently warmed by now, so we popped open a couple of beers and chatted for a bit at the bar. Then we attempted to play pool, but we were both so horrible at it that we eventually got bored and gave up. Next, we tried playing darts, but my aim was so off that I was worried I'd put holes in the walls and maybe even break a window. I had to stop playing.

By now we were getting pretty hungry. Off to the kitchen we went to cook up some steak fajitas for dinner. Mmmm! We watched about an hour of Syriana over dinner on the couch, but the excitment of having so many options in the house brought on a bit of ADD. We gave up on Syriana and went back to the game room, but eventually ended up back on the couch watching Wall Street until we got sleepy and went to bed.

The next day, we tried out some of the snow equipment around the house. Each of us put on a pair of snow shoes and trekked all over the vast, open backyard which was covered so thickly with snow that you could barely see the patio furniture poking out from beneath. The snow shoes were cool with their metal, spikey teeth which made a crunch! sound with every step. As we explored the perimeter of the house, threw snow all over the place and examined huge icicles hanging off the edge of the roof, you could hear our every move! Crunch, crunch! Crunch, crunch!

Across from the house was a frozen lake. We took our snow shoes crunching over the front yard, which was buried in snow, and tapped about on the lake. I was a bit nervous since we weren't exactly sure how frozen the lake was, and I still couldn't swim. The lake was pretty frozen, but a bit slushy so we decided not to switch to ice skating. Instead, we tried sledding in the backyard, but for some reason the sled wouldn't move, or when it did, it would get stuck a lot.

After playing in the snow all morning and a bit into the afternoon, it was time to pack up our things and head home. The drive home was much more interesting than the drive there since it was daytime, and we could admire the sights and towns we passed through. One town was having a St. Patrick's Day celebration a week early. There were truckloads of people riding around with green hats, clothes and banners. Initially, it was nice to see. But when several of these were holding up traffic on the road, we began to get irritated. This distracted everyone into driving slower than snails.

We stopped by the Woodbury Commons outlet on the way home and shopped for about an hour and a half before having dinner at an Applebee's when we were starving and couldn't wait to eat. After dinner, we continued our drive home, but ended up making another stop to pick up some groceries for the week at Stewart Leonard's in New York.

I liked Stewart Leonard's. All of their dairy products were made fresh and delivered from a local farm. We picked up a couple of tubs of yogurt, milk, blueberry juice, strawberries and other items.

That was the last stop before going home.

A Really Dumb Post

2007-03-21T18:55:00.000-07:00

I'm not exactly the most internet lingo savvy person. For the longest time, I had no idea what LOL meant. I remember someone once telling me that it stood for "loser online." So for years and years, I thought I had the meanest friends for constantly calling me a loser in e-mails and text messages. After being bombarded with seemingly misplaced LOLs in everything, I finally asked a friend to spell out exactly what it stood for. LOL means "laugh out loud"! I can't believe I never knew that!

How silly! Hahaha!

Oh wait, I mean LOL.

'Why Men Love Bitches'

2007-03-18T18:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, the Boy and I were out walking around our neigborhood. It had just snowed the night before so the streets were all slushy and unpleasant to walk on. But it was a sunny Saturday morning with a St. Patrick's Day parade going on so we didn't want to stay in. Actually, the St. Patrick's Day parade was ending, and we found it quite annoying that there were so many people all over the place, making it even more difficult to walk.

The Boy wanted to go to a couple of high end stationary stores to buy good quality blank cards to write thank you notes to his boss and other coworkers who had offered us their Vermont homes and free lift tickets on a couple of weekends. We found a nice box of Cranes blank cards. It had unique envelopes with leather-like insides. Those would do nicely.

Next, we decided hang out at Barnes and Noble, browsing through books and magazines. I looked through the 'paperback favorites' section. This was usually how I picked out books to order on Amazon. I sifted through a bunch of interesting reads, but knew I wouldn't remember them the next time I ordered since I'd just received three new books through Amazon.

Then my hands came across a book entitled, 'Why Men Love Bitches.' It was a national bestseller. Normally, these aren't the type of books I read. I'm more into memoirs and historical fiction, but I flipped through a few pages to see what all the hype was about.

Ahhahaha! It was hilarious! I couldn't stop smiling at all the funny and somewhat true things this lady was writing. I took the book and searched for the Boy to sit down and read. When I found him, he asked me to find a spot for us to read together while he picked out a book or magazine. I flashed the title of my book to him, which elicited a little chuckle out of him before I went off to find us a reading spot.

As I walked around, I spotted an empty chair. I walked over to the table, hoping that there would be another chair for the Boy also. When I got there, I found a middle aged man sitting in the other chair, asleep and snoring slightly. I sat down with my book, hoping that the man would wake up and leave by the time the Boy found me.

Didn't happen. When the Boy found me reading, I moved to get up so that we could find another spot for both of us to sit, but he motioned for me to stay. He told me to stay comfortable where I was, and he'd read somewhere else. We'd find eachother when one of us got bored.

So I sat there reading 'Why Men Love Bitches', smiling and laughing silently at how hilarious this book was. I was blowing though it quickly, when the man across from me snorted and woke up. He started to get his things together when I heard a "No, that's not true. None of that stuff. It's not true. Don't believe it."

I looked up and laughed. "It's hilarious, though!"

He had his things together and started to walk away, but turned around after a few steps, "Really, it's not true. She just made a lot of money off of it. It's not true!"

Ahhhahahaha! His attempts to make me put down the book and read another only made me want to read it more. I'll surely remember this one when I order my next batch from Amazon in a couple of months!

DMV in NYC

2007-03-13T19:12:00.000-07:00

For the past year and a half that I'd been living in NYC, I'd transitioned from being soley an LA driver to being soley a NY subway hopper (with the occasional cab ride here and there). Now that the Boy and I have explored much of the city's neighborhoods on foot, we've been itching to expand our exploration outside of the city with weekend road trips. But without a car, our options are limited. I hate bus tours, as I usually spend most of my time asleep, and trains will only conveniently drop you off to certain places. Also, with trains, your time is governed by a schedule.

So, we decided to activate our car insurance and register the Boy's car which has been sitting unused in a garage in Connecticut. This idea had been in the works for a while, but the Boy's schedule made it so that he could never get to the DMV to get anything done. They aren't open on the weekends, and their hours are 8:30 - 4PM on the weekdays. The only way this was going to get done was if I went down and registered the car myself.

I'll admit that I wasn't initially too excited to do this since I hate DMVs and I'd have to swap my CADL for a New York license, thus throwing me into the New York jury duty pool.

But the Boy was nice enough to fill out all of the paperwork for me so that all I had to do was sign a few spots and go down to the DMV with all of the necessary documents. Carrying all of these documents made me very nervous. I had on me my CADL, passport, social security card, checkbook, title to the Boy's car, and (since my coworkers entrusted me with the safety of our MegaMillions lottery pool) ~~60 lottery tickets~~ a worthless pile of paper.

I got to the DMV near my work right when it opened at 8:30AM, and already there were 20 people in line ahead of me. I got behind the last person in line and waited to tell the lady what my purpose for the day's visit was. She then handed me a slip of paper and told me to wait in the photo and eye exam line.

Now part of the reason why I think the DMV is so inefficient is that there are too many lines to get into and no one directing people or giving them instructions on what to do. People got into the wrong lines, didn't follow procedures once at the front of the line and were generally disorganized. I'm sure the DMV workers thought we were all a bunch of idiots, but they had to give us licenses anyway.

By watching everyone else make mistakes and get yelled at, I had all of my papers in place and knew that when I got to the front of the picture line, I was to step to the left and read off the eye chart. Only then was I allowed to approach the desk and hand over my paperwork. Then I would step over to the left again and have my picture taken before taking my paperwork back and taking a ticket to wait in the paperwork processing line. All seemed to be running pretty smoothly for me. Only, I forgot to take my big, ugly, puffy jacket off while taking the picture. Damnit! That thing made me look like a marshmallow, and this would be my permanent driver's license picture. Oh well, too late to do anything about it now.

I waited about 10 minutes before my number was called, and I could have my paperwork processed by a virtual human robot. She barely looked at me and spoke with such an exasperated, monotone voice and scripted words that I had a hard time processing what she was asking me. I handed her all of my paperwork and told her that I was here to swap my license and register a car. She sifted through my paperwork for a minute and turned to a computer. And then the dreaded words came out:

DMV lady: You're picture didn't go through. You're going to have to go to the picture line and retake it.

I looked over at the picture line which wasn't too long, but the paper processing line had blown up to double the length it was when I first went through it. My friendly face began to unravel at the thought of having to go through two lines all over again.

Me: What?! I have to do the whole thing all over again?!

DMV lady: No, I'll stay here with your paperwork. You just get me another picture. Come right back over here when you get your picture.

Whew! That's not so bad. And I get to retake my picture. Things are going well.

There were only four people ahead of me in the picture line. I stood in line and waited for a couple of minutes before I heard the DMV lady shouting my name out.

DMV lady: Ms. LANYTransplant! Ms. LANYTransplant. Please don't wait in line again! Go up to the front and get your picture taken.

Cut the line?! I can't cut the line! I'm a horrible line cutter! I'm not aggressive enough for that! Why didn't she come over and bring me up? I can't just go up to the picture taking guy! He has rules and doesn't like them broken!

Me (to the girl in front): Excuse me, I'm at the window over there and need to have my picture taken right now. I'll just step in front.

She was seething. The picture man saw me and made a point to ignore me for trying to cut. The girl behind me stepped right in front of me to reclaim her spot. By now, the people in the paper processing line were yelling at me to go up to the picture taking guy and get my picture taken now! I was holding up a window so that the paper processing line was just growing longer and longer. But the picture taking guy would not pay attention to me, and the people in front of me were satisfied that I was not going to cut in front of them.

There were only a couple of people in front of me. I could wait. I ignored the shouts of the DMV lady and people in the other line since the picture taking line people wouldn't let me through. I waited in line, comforted by the thought that these idiots in front of me were only making their wait longer by not letting me through.

When it was my turn to retake my picture, the picture guy had forgotten me. I broke his eye chart rule, marched up to him and told him that my picture didn't go through. The lady at the window had been trying to get me to quickly take another. He'd realized his mistake now and politely took another. I was so irritated that I could barely smile.

I then went back to the robot. She processed my paperwork and then rattled off some instructions about a car inspection and my interim license which I could barely listen to with such a monotone voice.

A week or two later, I got my license in the mail. I looked pissed.

Orchid Show

2007-03-03T20:55:00.000-08:00

Finally, the weather's looking up! Today was a nice, sunny 55 degrees! The Boy and I got up early to see the Orchid Show at the New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx.

I'm not much of a plant person, and neither is the Boy, but the NYBG did a great job simulating a tropical rainforest environment in which some orchids grow and arranging other orchids into such aesthetically pleasing sights. Alright, so our main motivation for going was that my work was having a corporate members day, so neither of us had to pay the $18 admission.

But it was a nice day to see the flowers in the greenhouse. The rest of the park was barren. The trees looked like twigs with no leaves, the grass was dead and everything looked bleak. Some pictures from the show:

A Very Jazzy Weekend

2007-02-27T15:00:00.000-08:00

This past weekend was a full one. It started off on Friday after work at V's housewarming party. She just moved from Williamsburg to my neck of the woods at 78th and York. The Boy and I picked up a bottle of wine and a housewarming gift before hopping onto the 2nd Ave. bus down to the party. Normally, we'd walk over, but it was freezing cold that night, and we just happened to catch the bus right as we got to the stop.

V lives in a large, gated complex at the edge of the East River. The building is quiet and spacious with large, open courtyards. This is unusual for Manhattan, but it was originally a place for tuburculosis patients before it was converted into apartments. We were among the first guests to arrive. Already, the hostess had out a 3 cheese fondue with bread cubes, veggie platter, fruit plate and bacon wrapped dates for us to munch on. The previous owners of the apartment did a wonderful job of remodeling the place. The kitchen was built with granite counters, a mini sub zero fridge, dishwasher, mini laundry machine and rack to hang your pots and pans out on. There were wood floors and compartmentalized closets built all the way to the ceiling to utilize space most efficiently. The Boy and I chatted with friends and drank bubbly glasses of champagne for the rest of the night.

The next day, the Boy had us signed up for a Bloomberg seminar. His main motive was to show me Bloomberg's lavish building. And lavish it was. The place was huge, plexiglass and very high tech. There were Bloomberg screens and terminals all over the place in addition to a free for all snack bar with any type of coffee you wanted to make, sodas, juices, bottled water, many varieties of chips, instant soups, dried noodles, individual cartons of breakfast cereals, cookies and lots of other junk food. On the way up the stairs to the seminar room, we passed the recording studio where Bloomberg News was filmed each day and peered down at the lights, cameras and anchor booth. The seminar wasn't all that interesting to me since I don't use Bloomberg and am not familiar with their functions. But afterwards, the Boy and I stayed for a bit to tour the building and raid their snack bar.

After the seminar, I did a little shopping at H&M (bought a belt and shirt) before going to Chinatown to get lunch and grocery shop. The Chinese New Year celebrations were still going on with drums beating and dragons dancing through the streets. The Boy and I first got lunch at a local noodle shop. I ordered the pulled noodle soup with beef, and the Boy got the cut noodle soup with oxtail. Then, we walked around Chinatown a bit, did our usual grocery rounds and lugged everything back home.

The next night, we cut across the park to the Time Warner center on the West Side to catch a jazz performance at Dizzy's Coca Cola Club. The place had a very nice ambiance, dimly lit with little square tables surrounding the stage with a brilliant city view as a backdrop. We got there an hour before the performance started to dine on southern fried chicken, mashed potatoes, collard greens and sweet potato fries. A little past 7:30PM, the performance started. Normally, I'm not much of a jazz fan, but I loved the ambiance and the familiar piano songs accompanying the soulful vocals. They played a lot of popular songs (Elvis Presley) with a jazzy twist which made it really fun. It was snowing heavily when the performance finished. We took a cab home and ended the weekend.

It's All Chinese!

2007-02-21T18:33:00.002-08:00

What do you get when you boil two cups of milk mixed with 2 tablespoons of cocoa powder, 1 tablespoon of sugar and 2/3 cup of Ghiradelli's dark chocolate chips? The most decadently delicious hot chocolate!

I had a pretty successful baking session this weekend. Determined to finally bake a batch of edible cookies, I remebered that a coworker once made the best oatmeal raisin cookies off of a recipe on the lid of a box of Quaker Oats. This was my chance to put the idea that LANYTransplant just can't bake to the test. If my coworker was able to get such a delicious batch of cookies from this recipe, then I'd know that it were me and not the recipe if my cookies failed.

So, I marched right down to the grocery store and bought a box of Quaker Oats. Under the lid was the "vanishing oatmeal raisin cookie recipe." I decided to make half the recipe just in case. I also thought substituting dried wild blueberries and pecans for the raisins would make it taste even better. That, and if they turned out bad, I'd have something else to blame it on.

Surprisingly enough, they turned out great! So nice that even the Boy, who's gagged at every batch of cookies I've ever made, said so and asked for more.

As for the random title, I'm having a bit of trouble reading my computer these days. The Boy decided that he's going to give this laptop to his parents and then give me his old one (newer than this one). So, in preparation for this, he changed the settings so that everything is in Chinese.

Cold, Busy Week

2007-02-12T19:39:00.001-08:00

It's freezing out here now!! My ears will hurt after being outside for more than a minute, and my nasal passages will hurt so much from breathing in cold air that my eyes will tear up. It's the windchill that kills everything. The wind drops the temperature another 10 degrees.

Regardless, it's been a pretty busy February so far with work events, happy hours, and visiting friends. Last Tuesday, the Boy and I went to a hedgefund event at the Opera Gallery down in Soho where they were showing modern Chinese art while trying to sell software packages. There was wine, bread and cheese catered by Artisanal. It was all a very strange combination, but I went along with it to view the Chinese paintings and get my fill of Artisanal bread and cheese. These events are always fun for me as long as I'm with the Boy. Why? Because I'm not in the hedge fund industry so I don't need to schmooze with anyone just for the sake of schmoozing, and I don't need to be on my best behavior. I can enjoy the food and art without having to pay attention to anyone or feel out of place as long as the Boy is next to me to suck all of the attention away.

The event started at 6:00PM and was a 15 minute walk away from my work. It was a much further commute for the Boy coming in from Connecticut. We were supposed to meet there at 6:30PM and go in together. Technically, I wasn't invited, as the event was exclusive to people in hedge funds only. The Boy signed me up as an employee of his firm.

I got there 5 minutes early. Normally, I would have waited outside until the Boy showed up, but it was so freezing cold outside that I had no choice but to go in first. Crap! I was crashing an event that I wasn't invited to...alone. I knew that the Boy's trains would probably be delayed due to bad weather and estimated that it would probably be about 20 minutes before he showed up. Twenty minutes where I'd be in a room full of people, but would have to avoid contact with anyone. What was I supposed to say if people asked what I did, or how long I'd been in the industry, or where I'd worked, or what area I focused on?!

I can do this.

Hostess: Hello. Your name please?

Me: LANYTransplant.

Hostess: Ah, here you are, and it says here that you work for [Boy's firm]. Do you have a business card for us?

Crap! I pretended to look inside my wallet for one.

Me: Hmmm...can't seem to find one right now. I must have forgotten them.

Hostess: That's alright then. What area would you say your work focuses on?

I knew better than to get too creative with this one, but was probably a bit over my head with the answer.

Me: Quantitative research and analysis.

Hostess: Alright, then you get a purple bracelet to identify your group.

I asked the hostess to check if the Boy had come in yet. As she searched her list and asked around, I shoved the bracelet into my purse.

Hostess: Sorry, I don't think he's signed in yet.

I surveyed the crowd briefly and decided to get a glass of wine while waiting for the Boy. I waited by the main bar first, but it was so crowded that I decided to get a bit of food first. The bread and cheese table was really crowded, too, with people schmoozing and networking. I didn't want to seem to eager or aggressive, so I headed downstairs where I knew it would be nearly empty and I could easily get a glass of wine. I didn't want to look like a pig, so I decided to wait for the Boy to come before getting any food.

As always, no one was really paying attention to the art except for the loners and misfits who had no one to schmooze or network with. I sipped my glass of wine while admiring the art, careful not to spend too much time standing next to a fellow attendee admiring the same painting for fear that I might have to swap information about where I work and what I do. I wandered around awkwardly for about 15 minutes before the Boy finally showed up.

Thank god! I now got a plate and piled it with bread and cheese. Immediately, the Boy struck up a conversation with someone, and I blended pleasantly into the background. As everyone else daintily nibbled at their slices of bread and broke off small bits of cheese, I slapped a healthy slice of cheese in between two pieces of bread and ate it like a sandwich while paying very little attention to my company's conversation. As the boys talked, I scanned the room and people watched. I was enjoying myself now. When the conversation finished, I gave the Boy a tour of the paintings while we sipped on more wine.

It was a very cold night, so we headed back after this.

Skiing in Vermont

2007-02-05T18:04:00.000-08:00

A couple of weekends ago, the Boy's boss offered to let us stay at his vacation home in Stratton, Vermont. It was an unexpected invite, but we had no weekend plans at the moment and jumped at the idea of our first ski trip this winter.

Bright and early Saturday morning (7AM) the Boy's friend ("the Russian") drove in from Brooklyn to pick us up. Surprisingly, he was stuck in traffic getting into the city and looked beat when he arrived. He'd been up till 4AM the previous night partying with a bunch of friends and could barely keep his eyes open (bad, bad...so dangerous!!). So, the Boy and I loaded up his car as the Russian climbed into the back seat and passed out. The Boy took his keys, hopped into the driver's seat, and handed me the directions to navigate. Four hours later, we arrived in Pittsburgh.

Just kidding! Haha. We made it to Stratton quite smoothly at around noon without ever getting lost. We went straight to the mountain to get a half day of skiing/snowboarding in before relaxing at the guesthouse. But first, we gobbled down tupperwares full of pasta salad that the Boy had prepared the night before. Now we were ready to take on the mountain. I went straight to the ski rentals. Never before had I met such an incompetent staff (looking back, this probably isn't true). There was barely anyone in the shop, and I had to continually bother people to help me. I then made the mistake of leaving the rentals place without trying on both of my skis first.

We decided to start off light and ascended the lift for an easy beginner slope. It was freezing cold out there (6 degrees Fahrenheit)! Thank god I rented a helmet to keep my head and ears warm. My lips, cheeks and chin started tingling until my entire face felt like it had been shot up with novacaine. Ten minutes later (no joke), we'd reached the top of the mountain and exited the lift. Now with the wind, I was getting worried that I'd get frostbite. I couldn't feel my fingers or lips anymore. The boys threw down their snowboards and started boarding up, while I plopped down my skis and tried to snap my boots in place. The first ski snapped on, but the second ski didn't look like it fit. The place where my boot should have snapped in looked way too big for any part of my boot to make contact. Damn it! Those morons at the rental place were too busy chatting with each other to bother fitting my skis properly. They only adjusted one side!! Argh! It took 10 minutes to get to the top of the mountain, and now it would take another 10 minutes to ride the lift back down and then another 10-15 minutes to get them fixed and then another 10-20 minutes to get back up with the lines!

As I fumed and cursed, the boys noticed the snow patrol's office nearby. We walked over and knocked on the door. Thanks to them, it wouldn't have been a total waste of time! They were able to adjust my ski so that my boot would snap in, but there were some other adjustments that they were not allowed to make that I could fix at the ski shop. But at least this way, I'd be able ski down the mountain with the boys rather than have to ride the lift down.

It was freezing cold, but the snow was nice and powdery! It was the softest, thickest snow that I'd skied in on the East Coast. So thick that my skis would trip over a pile, and I'd fall out. When we got to the bottom (a very long ride down), I got my skis fixed. The Russian bought a ski mask and hand warmers. I got a pair of hand warmers from the Russian and took the Boy's scarf to wrap around my face which was frozen white as snow by now.

We rode the lift up again and did a few more nice, long beginner runs before calling it a day and going back to the guesthouse. The cold had gotten to us, and we couldn't stand being outside with frozen digits and blue lips anymore.

The guesthouse was about a 10 minute drive away. The Boy's boss had built a mansion and guesthouse upon many acres of land. The street leading up to the house was named after the boss. And what a mansion it was! The entire place looked like a ski lodge built to house a hundred rooms! Our jaws dropped in awe as we drove up the circular driveway. Unfortunately, we would not get to see much more than just the outside of the house. The Boy's boss has a policy that no one stays at the mansion when the master is not in.

Right next to the mansion was a pretty sizeable red barn-this was the guesthouse. The boss's caretaker met us there to let us in and show us around. As the Russian pulled his car into the garage of the guesthouse, our eyes lit up as we saw some of the nice toys that the boss was storing in there. There were two ATVs, two snowmobiles and plenty of ski/snowboarding equipment. A door in the garage led to a full sized basketball court. The caretaker led us up the stairs to a very nice two bedroom house with a fully stocked kitchen complete with a dishwasher, high tech microwave and subzero fridge, living room with a movie theater sized TV, and dining room. The Boy and I claimed the master bedroom which had a very large, comfortable bed and one of those antique-looking, porcelain bathtubs. This was better than any hotel or lodge we would have rented.

We ordered steaks and lobster rolls in for dinner and had a nice night lounging in the guesthouse. The next morning, we woke up early to get in a full day of skiing at Stratton again. It was freezing cold again, but the night laid out a very nice, thick blanket of snow for us. But for some reason, Stratton was obsessed with keeping the snow thick and had their snowmakers on full blast. I'd seen snow makers before, but none so intense as these which were blowing snow out at such a furious pace that they managed to create a mini blizzard over many parts of the mountain.

This time, we went down one beginner slope to warm up, and then went straight to the intermediate slopes. The blizzards were intense on these slopes. It was really quite irritating to ski through, as you really couldn't escape having little ice pellets constantly shooting out at your face as you careened down a slope. How were you supposed to see?! And then they would stick to your eyelashes and freeze the top and bottom lashes together so that you could barely open your eyes. I fell through much of this. By the time I'd finished with the slopes, my helmet was covered in a layer of ice, and I had icicles hanging off my hair. Some of them I broke off. Others I had to wait to melt off when the car's heat kicked in on the way home.

Weekend Fun

2007-01-19T12:00:00.000-08:00

Recap of last weekend:

Friday: Met up with the Boy after work for dinner at Sasabune on 73rd and First Avenue. The place was really tiny and cramped, but the sushi was fresh and tasty. The staff fired the dishes out quickly, one after another. Three quarters through, I was so stuffed that I started slipping the Boy half my dishes.
Saturday: Lounged around the apartment for half a day, did some online shopping and then went shopping in the neighborhood with the Boy. We stopped by the local gym (NYSC) to check out the rates and facility.
Sunday: The Boy and I had our free trial day at the gym. We decided to check out a boxing class and a yoga class. The boxing class was intense. The instructor ran it like a boot camp with us starting off running laps. Partway through, he barked for us to drop and do 20, then back to running laps, until he barked for us to leapfrog down, push-up, leapfrog back down, push-up, etc. I realized how uncoordinated I was when we had to shadow box with ourselves in front of a mirror. My movements were slow and weak. The Boy and I were so beat and dripping with sweat after the half hour warm up drills, but we didn't want to give up just yet. Next, we got our boxing gloves and took turns at a punching bag while the instructor did his one-on-one rounds. I'd never boxed before in my life, so I had no idea what I was doing.

Instructor: Give me a right hook!
Me: Huh?
Instructor: Do this.
I gave a left hook.
Instructor: Right!
I gave another left hook.
Instructor: Right!
Another left hook.
Classmate: Try your other right.
Finally, the right hook.
Instructor: Uppercut!
Me: Huh?
Instructor: Do this.
Then the instructor swung his pad at my head, stopping short of hitting me.
Blank stare from me.
Instructor: You're supposed to duck.
Me: Oh, right.

Needless to say, yoga went much better.

Afterwards, I went home, showered and headed out to meet a friend for tea. We met at Trader Joes and did a bit of grocery shopping first. This took forever, as the line wrapped around the entire store. When we finally got out of there, we walked over to Astor Place to meet another friend for a snack/tea at Cha-an. They have the best tasting green tea cocktail! It tastes exactly like green tea ice cream! Mmmm!

I had to run after an hour to meet the Boy for dinner. We'd planned to have sushi again, but our plans changed when the Boy's friend wanted to double date. The Boy had a craving for ramen and was looking for Rai Rai Kan back at Astor Place again, but couldn't find it, so we ended up back at our tried and true favorite, O Taisho!, where we ordered a bunch of new dishes. We finished the night off with dessert at Veniero's.

Monday: I had Monday off because of MLK, but didn't do much. The impact of yesterday's boot camp kicked in, as I could barely move for most of the day.

Tripping and Falling Through Work

2007-01-18T10:16:00.000-08:00

Ususally this time of year, work's not so busy as things are still starting up after the new year. But this year's started off pretty hectic for me. Just yesterday, I had an especially embarrassing "deer in the headlights" moment, and today I managed to boot myself out of an access list during a fit of frustration.

(For confidentiality purposes, I've substituted the topic of discussion to something which I am equally oblivious)

Ring! Ring!

Hello?

Hey, LANYTransplant, I need you to sit in on a meeting I just pulled together and take notes. ___ is on vacation, so can you fill in? Don't worry, we're just trying to figure out what's going on.

Alright. I can do that. But I'm not too familiar with the topic.

It's alright. Just sit in.

Meeting in progress:

Client: Alright, so I guess you guys have called this meeting together to discuss our evapotranspiration estimation process. Evapotranspiration occurs when a watershed loses a significant amount of water. We need to calculate the potential evapotranspiration in order to determine the proper level of irrigation for our farms. When the potential evapotranspiration exceeds actual precipitation, we need proper irrigation to prevent the soil from drying out.

What the hell is he talking about? Whatever, just take notes.

Coworker: Alright, so how do you calculate the potential evapotranspiration?

Client: Well, we create an equation of the water balance of the watershed. The change in water is a function of precipitation, estimated evapotranspiration, streamflow and groundwater recharge.
Do you agree?

Coworker: Ummm, let me think about it for a second...yes, that sounds right. Wait a minute, LANYTransplant, I need your expert opinion here. Please tell me if this is right, or suggest an alternate method. Can you think of some other way?

WTF?! I don't know! What are you guys talking about anyway?

(Dead silence, pressure mounting for a response from me)

Me: Ummm, well...uh...

(More dead silence, beads of sweat begin to form above my brow)

Me: Well...I'll have to think about it and get back to you.

(Dead silence and disbelief)

Wrong answer! Doh!

Then later the next day while trying to log onto a system:

Enter userid, enter password.
System response: You are already logged on. Acess denied.
What?! No I'm not.
Re-enter userid, re-enter password.
System response: You are aleady logged on. Access denied.
Argh!
Frustrated, I begin tapping the keyboard repeatedly to release my anger.
Quit tapping me you annoying little...! Tap me one more time and I'll...
Tap.
System response: Error. Your user id has been revoked. Please contact an administrator for help.
Brilliant. Now I was as useless as a new employee who wasn't set up for anything. How would I explain this to my manager?

Summer in January!

2007-01-09T15:07:00.000-08:00

The weather this past Saturday was unusually warm. It was 68 degrees and sunny! 68 degrees! Yes, I know, my old LA self would have though, "What?! That's freezing! It's too cold to do anything outside! Damn winter weather!"

People were out roaming the city in T-shirts and shorts. The Boy and I decided to take advantage of such nice weather and spend the whole day out. We first took a stroll through Central Park, occasionally stopping to sit and people watch while sunbathing (yes, I remembered my SPF). Afterwards, we headed down to Union Square and walked to somewhere near Astor Place, looking for a good lunch spot. We walked and walked and walked until we hit the outskirts of Alphabet City and turned back around to get a wrap and rice bowl at Momofuku Ssam Bar on 2nd and 13th street.

I ordered the toasted nori rice bowl with angus beef brisket and a bunch of sides, while the Boy ordered the original Ssam wrap. Halfway through eating, the Boy suggested that we switch so that we'd be able to try eachother's food. I handed him my bowl, and he gave me his wrap. The wrap was good, but I liked my bowl better. With the way the Boy was attacking my bowl, I couldn't tell if he was just really hungry (we hadn't eaten much all day) or if he really really liked it. He looked over at me eating his wrap and smiled. If he liked the bowl that much, I felt bad about asking for it back. So, for the next five minutes, we ate each other's orders and people watched, occasionally smiling back at each other. Then I decided to comment:

Your wrap's good, but the bowl is better.

(Boy) Thank god! Give me back my wrap. With the way you were eating it, I thought I'd piss you off if I tried to pry it out of your hands.

How silly it would have been if I hadn't said anything! Afterwards, we walked on Bleecker street from the east side all the way to Greenwich Village on the west side where we popped into Amy's Bread (their red velvet cake was all sold out as usual) and Murray's Cheese Shop before settling on a bench to people watch and enjoy the weather.

New Year's Celebration

2007-01-04T18:46:00.000-08:00

I took my usual redeye back into New York after spending a week in LA visiting friends and family. For some reason, I don't sleep so well on planes anymore. I used to fall asleep shortly after takeoff and wake right before landing.

I got in at around 6:45AM, took the subway back home, unpacked a bit, showered and then fell asleep until a little before noon. I ended up taking another 2 hour nap in the late afternoon, only to wake up in time to watch the Boy make a special birthday dinner for me. He was going to be the Iron Chef tonight, and the secret ingredient was my favorite-mushrooms!

Appetizer: Morel Mushroom Puff Pastry

Main course: Chanterelle, porcini and maitake mushrooms over papardelle pasta.

Dessert: Vanilla Bean Souffle made with real vanilla beans!

Dinner was delicious.

Afterwards, we headed over to do the countdown with Dick Clark on TV at a friend's place down the street. The Boy and I started a game of Jenga that lasted so long that it threatened to engage our attentions past the countdown. Luckily, the tower toppled a few minutes before we welcomed in the new year!

Funky Sock Exchange

2007-01-01T17:25:00.000-08:00

"This is a 'Funky Socks' exchange!...You should receive thirty six pairs of socks for the price of one...Seldom does anyone drop out because we can all use 'Funky Socks' to boost our outfits!!..."

I met up with a couple of old coworkers a few days ago, one of which passed me a sort of chain letter to do a funky socks exchange. With my new obsession over cute novelty socks, I thought it would be a fun thing to participate in. So, I picked up the funkiest pair of socks I could find at the GAP and waited in line at the post office to mail them off. As I was walking toward the end of the line, I called one of my best friends and decided to pitch the sock exchange to her.

Me: Hey, want to do a funky sock exchange? I have to get six people to do this. It's not a chain letter. You don't have to do it, and nothing bad happens to you if you do.

Friend: Uhhh, ummm...well what is it?

Me: It's this really cool thing where you mail a pair of funky socks to the first person listed on the letter, and you get thirty six pairs back!! Thirty six pairs!

Friend: Doesn't this sound like a pyramid scheme? Like one of those things where they ask you to mail in a dollar and somehow someone mails you back a thousand dollars?

Me: No, no! You don't have a to sell anything! You'll get thirty six pairs of socks back! It's really fun!

Friend: Ok, explain to me how this thing works.

Me: Well, the letter has two names and addresses on it. You mail one pair of socks to the first person on the letter. Then you copy the letter and move the second name on the letter to the first position and then add your name as the second position. Then you hand it off to six people to mail off a pair of socks to the first person on the letter. In this case, you'll mail a pair of socks to my friend who handed me the letter. Then you'll give the letter to six of your friends who will mail socks to me. See, it works! We always mail socks to our friend's friends. You get thirty six pairs of funky socks for the price of one!

Friend: Ummm...do you mind if I don't participate? It just sounds so much like a pyramid scheme. Doesn't it? I mean really, you mail a pair of socks to someone you don't know, and somehow you're supposed to get thirty six back?

Hmmm...that does seem unlikely. She may have a point there.

Me: Alright, you don't have to do it...But wouldn't it be nice to get thirty six pairs of funky socks? They'll boost your outfits!!

Friend: Uh, no.

Anyone want to mail me a pair of socks?

You'll get thirty six pairs back.

Merry Christmas!

2006-12-25T23:06:00.000-08:00

I just flew back into LA on the 23rd and will be here until the 30th when I fly back into NY just in time to ring in the New Year.

We had our traditional Christmas Eve dinner at my aunt's house in Culver City with all of the other relatives. We're all a bit crazy when under the same roof at the same time.

It was an American dinner for the most part with a bit of a Chinese flair. In the meat department, there was a roast chicken, tri-tip steak, ribs and sliced ham. In the veggie department, there was a Chinese chicken salad, roasted red potatoes, a mushroom and bamboo medley, aparagus mixed with oyster mushrooms and broccoli with cauliflower. Instead of stuffing, we had my grandmother's well loved Chinese sticky rice.

When we arrived, my mom ran straight to the kitchen to help my aunts prepare the food. I chatted with my uncles and some cousins for a bit and then settled next to a cousin on the couch. About halfway through our conversation, my grandfather came over grinning and wedged himself in between my cousin and I. As he turned his attention over to my cousin, I noticed my cousin's eyes darting across the room in an attempt not to make eye contact.

Grandfather(grinning): Gurral! Gurral! You like gurral I tell you about? Very nice! She tall-about five seven. Smart! Computer major-go to UCLA just like you! Computer major like you!Speak English, Cantonese and Mandarin! UCLA, just like you! Nice gurral!

Cousin: Uh, no I'm not interested.

Grandfather (now turning to me and speaking Chinese): Very nice! She can speak English, Chinese and Mandarin. She's around his age and tall enough for him. Perfect match! But look at him-I find him a nice girl and he doesn't care. Won't even meet her. Aaayaah! (Now turning to my cousin) Gurral! Gurral!

Cousin (shouting across the room): Dad! Dad! Your father is annoying me! You need to control your father!

Apparently, my grandfather had been bugging my cousin about the same girl for the past few months, and he was sick of it.

Aiiiiiiiiiiyaaaaaaaaah! Yeah! Yes! Whoohooo! The screaming and whopping from the kitchen shot out so startlingly loud and unexpected that I jumped from my seat and nearly fell off the couch. I had no idea that another cousin, her fiancee and one of her cousins (from her other side) were on the other side of the kitchen watching a game. Apparently, their team won. She came running out dressed in her football jersey and matching santa hat in the team colors to say hi.

Shortly after this, my aunts called everyone to the table for dinner. There were eighteen people present, and her table wasn't big enough to fit all of us, so she strategically shuttled her daughter, fiancee, and cousin onto the table next to the kitchen away from everyone else with her and my uncle. It was her daughter's birthday, and she had a special birthday song that she wanted us all to sing. It was a birthday song from one of her childhood TV shows, and she had the words printed out for all of us to sing from.

After she announced her intentions, she left eveyone to fill their plates and eat. My aunt's request for us to sing a song from an old TV show started a competition among the baby boomers around the table to name the oldest TV show or commercial they remembered watching.

Rin Tin Tin! Micky Mouse Club! Leave it to Beaver! What was the name of the son on Lassie? Can you name the mother?

They were dating themselves in their attempts to outdo eachother. I was totally lost.

After dinner, all of the cousins sat on the table near the kitchen to gossip and chat until dessert was ready. Dessert was pumpkin pie, cookies, fruit and tea. But before we could have dessert, my aunt called everyone into the dining room where she turned on her CD player and passed out sheets for everyone to wish my cousin a happy birthday. Half of us had never heard this birthday song and sang happily out of tune, while the other half sang loud and strong enough to block out the sounds of my grandparents shouting loudly with my parents who were helping them sort out all of their mail (my grandmother is hard of hearing, and neither grandparent reads English too well).

When dessert was over we opened presents. I got a couple pairs of dress socks and a trio of lotions. And that was Christmas Eve with the family.

Happy Day

2006-12-15T19:33:00.000-08:00

I'm in a good mood right now. My evening plans to see the city's holiday lights around Madison Avenue got cancelled when the Boy caught a little bug (which he insists are allergies) and totally konked out, but I'm still in a good mood. Why? Because...

The weekend's here, and I have two days to relax.

This has been a very warm winter so far with very few freezing cold days.

I got most of my Christmas shopping done on Amazon, barely even setting foot into a mall. Thanks to living in New York, mall crowds trigger a pavlovian response in me to knock people over. Crowds in general make me want to knock people over. I'm so rude and pushy on the subway these days.

I got a surprise promotion at work (forgot the results would be in when they were).

I'm leaving next weekend to LA to spend Christmas with everyone back home!

I've just had 2.5 glasses of wine. I'm such a lightweight. My stomach's all splotchy now.

Behavioral Consequences of Being in a Drunken Stupor

2006-12-04T15:11:00.000-08:00

The road to drunkenness leads to...

1) Excessive talking

Person X: So, tell me about yourself.

Sober you: I grew up in ____, currently live in _____ and do _____ for a living.
Drunken You: Well, I was born in 19xx in a suburb of Los Angeles called ____. I learned to walk when I was x, talk when I was x...(15 min later) and then when I was 7 my second grade teacher was _____...

2) Rude behavior

Person X: Heading home now? Alright, well have a good night!

Sober you: Thanks! You too.
Drunken you: Uhhuh, ok. Bye.

3) Premature laughing.

Person X: Knock, knock.

Sober you: Who's there?
Drunken you: Heeheehee. That's hilarious. Heeheehee. I can't stop laughing that's so funny!
Person X: But I haven't told the joke...
Drunken you: Ok, now my turn. Ask me if I'm a farmer...

4) If you're Asian, the Asian Flush

Luckily, this doesn't show up on my face as with most Asians, but rather on my stomach of all places!

5) Slurring of words, stumbling when not standing still and the urge to not hold still.

Word of advice: Let Person X get to know the sober you before the drunken you, unless you don't like Person X too much.

Thanksgiving 2006

2006-11-25T19:23:00.000-08:00

The Boy and I did Thanksgiving, just the two of us, with ham, stuffing, yams and a chocolate cake for dessert. To keep things simple and not have to slave away all day in the kitchen, I made the stuffing and cake from a box (alright, so I've never made stuffing, and I can't bake!). The Boy took care of the ham, making a honey, molassas and pineapple dressing before popping it into the oven with foil wrapped yams. Paired with a nice bottle of riesling, Thanksgiving dinner was great!

Afterwards, we caught a movie at the local theater (Stranger Than Fiction). I liked it and thought that the story was clever, funny and entertaining, but the Boy was somewhat dissatisfied with it for unstated reasons.

We both had to go to work the next day, so that was it!

Both of us got off of work early the next day. We ran a couple of errands, and after a quick dinner of ham, stuffing, yams and chocolate cake again, we met up with the Boy's friend to see another movie - Casino Royale. The only problem was that it was sold out in every theater we went to. So, we ended up at Vespa, a local restaurant, to drink and talk. Vespa has a cute outdoor patio area in the back with heat lamps, so we chatted over a bottle of red and a cheese plate for the rest of the night.

The Effects of Global Warming

2006-11-19T10:47:00.000-08:00

It's November now, and the weather should be chilly. There were a couple of cold weeks in October, but the weather turned warm and slightly humid again after that. Being a California girl who loves the heat, I would normally welcome the warm weather to stay as long as possible. But on the East Coast, warm, sticky weather means mosquitoes, mosquitoes, mosquitoes everywhere! This past summer, I must have gotten at least 50 bites. My skin reacts very badly to them with each bite exploding into a huge, red itchy bump. When my old boss first saw one of them on my wrist, his gasped and asked if I had accidentally burned myself.

Knowing this, we tried to mosquito proof the apartment last summer. I bought mosquito repellent incense, sprayed myself up with DEET and plugged in little devices that would supposedly make mosquito repellent noises all over the apartment. But the incense would only burn for two hours, the DEET also had a two hour lifespan, and the noise making devices were useless. The Boy frequently caught mosquitoes resting and even dancing on top of them. So despite our efforts, I became a nightly snack to all the mosquitoes in our neigborhood.

Naturally, I was elated when mosquito season ended at the end of September. But when the weather turned warm again, the mosquitoes came back. About a week and a half ago at 5AM, the loud buzzing of mosquitoes in my ear so rudely awoke me. What the &#^$*!!! They're all supposed to be dead by now! We both woke and killed the ones visibly flying around the apartment. The walls smeared with fresh blood as we smacked them dead. I couldn't fall asleep after that, knowing that there could be more hungry for some fresh blood.

This same pattern went on for the next few days, producing another 10-15 more bites. I got so paranoid about falling asleep that I began to imagine their obnoxious buzzing sound in my ear anytime I was in a quiet room. I didn't sleep so well that week, and after a few days of this, we'd had enough. It was all out war now! We went out and bought 4 rolls of sticky fly paper to hang all over the apartment. We got lemongrass scented incense, bought a three pack of Raid foggers and even ordered a mosquito net on Amazon.

It was overkill. We fogged the apartment with one can while we were at work and never saw another bug again.

Adventures in Westchester Part II

2006-11-13T19:20:00.000-08:00

So now we were at the concert in a small auditorium at SUNY Purchase which was nice because there wasn't a bad seat in the house. As usual, the crew was still setting up, and the concert was running late. During this time the Boy handed me a half a roast beef sandwich which I stealthily munched on, knowing that there wasn't any food allowed inside. Halfway through, the band started playing and Matisyahu made his appearance.
http://music.aol.com/artist/matisyahu/698529/main

Normally, I'm not much of a reggae fan, but Matisyahu rocked with his catchy beats that would make anyone want to clap along at the very least. A lot of the crowd was either up and dancing or bouncing along in their seats. He did a really good beat box (click on it! click on it! it's the best beat box I've ever seen!) and even had an Asian keyboard player.

The concert was great! It ended at around 10PM at which time the Boy and I bolted out (work night). We were mainly concerned with how we were going to get back and prayed that there would be a cab somewhere in sight.

There wasn't, so we started calling cab companies, which one by one refused to pick us up. Purchase, NY? Oh no, they weren't driving all the way out there.

Crap. It was a chilly night, and we were screwed. The cab ride from the train station was about 10 minutes away and included a freeway (at least mine did) stretch. There had to be some other way. We weren't going to walk there. Right about now, a young college student walked past us and headed to her car after a late night of studying on campus. A light bulb went off above the Boy's head.

Boy: Hi. Excuse me, excuse me. Do you know where we can take a bus to the train station? We just got out of the Matisyahu concert, and the cab companies have stranded us here. We can't get home.

Girl: What?! They took you out here and won't take you back?! That's horrible! Let me drive you to the bus stop.

Was she crazy?! Taking complete strangers into her car?! How did she know we weren't psychotic? Whatever. It was our ticket back.

We hopped into the car, and she drove us along the long and windy path outside of the college. She was 24 and studying Education. Originally, she wanted to be a vet, but the sciences deterred her. She married young, and took two years off to support her husband before returning to college. Ah, a bus stop!

The bus stop was a dark and lonely place. That, and it was going the wrong direction. The right direction was no where to be found. She was kind enough to drive us around until a while down the road, we found a bus stop pointed the right way.

But it was out in the middle of nowhere, dark and deserted. We hopped out, wondering how long it would be until the next bus. Thank god for her small town hospitality! She wasn't comfortable dropping us out into the dark, not knowing if the bus was still running or what would happen to us, so the Boy suggested she could take us to the train station in Yonkers where we could catch a subway to the City.

Back in the car! She wasn't always a small town girl. She spent the first 15 years of her life in Paris before moving with her family to Portugal and then various places all over the world with different family members before ending up in Yonkers. She thought Austrailia was boring, but New Zealand nice. The two years supporting her husband were tough.

As the Boy and I listened, I could feel a lecture brewing from inside the Boy's head for me never to do what this kind girl was doing. Picking up two random strangers (one a man) and driving them around town was a dangerous thing. The girl even said it herself. This is a dangerous world we live in. But we were grateful for her kind hearted trustfulness.

We all made it safely to the train station! They Boy thanked her, handed her his business card should she ever need anything from us, and slipped in a little cash for her trouble. And with that we all parted ways.

Adventures in Westchester Part I

2006-11-11T20:33:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago the Boy and I were at a Matisyahu concert in Westchester. Matiswhaa?? Matisyahu-a sensational hasidic Jewish reggae singer who guest starred on Jimmy Kimmel, Jay Leno and Conan O'Brien, to name a few. I'd never heard of him before the Boy called me up at work and asked if I could go to the concert with him. The Boy's boss bought charity tickets to the concert and couldn't attend. Pretty much everyone in the office was a Matisyahu fan and had already gone to his prior concerts, so the Boy had no trouble scooping up the tickets for us.

At first I really wasn't up to it. I had a headache all day, and getting to Westchester by 7PM was going to be a challange considering I would be off work at 6PM. But the Boy seemed really excited about it, the tickets cost the Boy's boss a small fortune, and the opportunity to see a man sing and dance about the stage in full hasidic Jewish garb was intriguing, so I skipped out of work 15 minutes early and headed out to Grand Central Station. The Boy gave me instructions to take the Metro North to White Plains and then catch a cab, specifying that the cabbie should take me to the Performing Arts Center at Purchase College.

I did exactly that. I got off the train station at White Plains and found a line of cabs waiting outside where I read off the instructions and then hopped in. But to my surprise, we weren't leaving just yet. As I sat down and shut the door, a huge throng of people came rushing out of the train station. Without my permission, the cabbie began soliciting more customers until the cab was full. I was running a bit late and annoyed, but complied as I didn't know what else to do. I had no idea where we were going, in what order we were going to be dropped off and if any of these stops were along the route. They weren't, and although I was the first in the cab, I was the last to be dropped off.

The first drop off was about 5 minutes away. The driver charged the lady $4.90, and the lady handed him a $5 while thanking him and exiting. The $.10 tip pissed the driver off, leaving him to mutter incessantly through the next route and even prompting his own high pitched rendition of her "thank you very much."

The next route was about 10 minutes away. Where the hell were we going?! Was I next?! We stopped at the home of the guy sitting next to me. He could tell I was irritated, having been the first in the cab and now the last drop off. That he left a huge tip for the driver was really no comfort to me. Now I was really late, had no idea where we were and was worried that the driver would charge me an exorbitant fee, seeing as how I had been driven around for 15 minutes and could very well have been taken far off course. I also wondered if the driver had other plans for me. He seemed a bit crazy. Not wanting the driver to know that I had no idea where I was, I began madly texting the Boy to let him know I'd be late, that I had no idea where I was, and to find out how long his cab ride took from the train station.

The Boy called immediately, demanded to know where I was and let me know that he was going to kill the cabbie for driving me all over town and soliciting other passengers without my consent. Now I had blurted out that I didn't have the slightest idea where I was. Great. The cabbie had the green light to devise a plot as he drove me out to the middle of nowhere and I wouldn't know a thing. The Boy called me repeatedly to make sure that I was on course.

Finally, I'd arrived. The Boy was waiting outside and opened the door for me to get out. I was about to pay the driver when the Boy shoved my money away and would only pay the driver as much as the cost of his cab ride. Then he screamed at and cussed the driver out until he drove away and made no protest for more money. I imagined more muttering and gruff imitations in the next few minutes as the driver drove off.

Stalker Shopper

2006-10-28T12:33:00.000-07:00

The weekends this month have been pretty tame after being completely packed in September with mini vacations and visitors from out of town. I've mostly been shopping to prepare for the cold weather which has already hit. It's freezing out here now!

Earlier in the month I was shopping with a friend at Zara. As I still haven't learned to dress myself beyond solids and neutrals, my fashion savvy friend picked out most of the items, piling piece after piece over my overloaded arm. At one point, she pulled a cute, checkered dress off of a rack, the last in its size, as another lady was thumbing through the batch. Over my arm the dress went, as my friend disappeared off to pick out a few work pieces for herself.

With that, I ambled over to the solids and neutrals, suddenly feeling that I was being followed. Why was the same lady around me everywhere I turned? As I thumbed through the navys, she was behind me thumbing through the purples. If I was near the whites, she was right across from me at the beiges.

And then....tap tap tap. Someone was tapping my shoulder.

Me: Yes?

Lady: What size is that dress?

Me: Huh?

Lady: What size is that dress?

Me: I don't know. Here, look at the tag.

A complete look of scorn covered her face. She was pissed. It was the last in its size, and apparently hers. I left to tell my friend that I was going to the dressing room.

A small line formed outside of the dressing room. The lady was there, causing a ruckus among the staff. She needed that dress. They would get her the dress from another store in a week. She would take no chances. She needed it now. Frustrated, the staff went to search the racks and stock room one more time.

And then...tap tap tap. Hmm...I wonder who that could be? I turned around.

Lady: Can you let me know if you aren't going to buy that dress? I need it.

Me: Alright.

She really needed the dress. She waited outside my dressing room the whole time as the staff searched and searced for another in that size. Feeling the pressure, I decided to try the dress on first.

Too big. I looked like a checkered cream puff. I took the dress off, put on something else and then pushed back the curtain.

Me: It doesn't fit. Here, it's yours.

A sigh of relief, and the shopping devil exited her body. She flashed a warm, happy smile and thanked me. The staff was happy too now, despite the looks they gave behind her back.

After shopping with my friend, I met up with the Boy. He wanted to get a few shirts from the GAP, so I went with him. As we first entered the store, he spotted two coats that he thought I might like. One was white, the other beige. There was only one coat left in each color in my size, and he pulled them both.

The white one looked a little bit too big. The beige one fit, but it was missing many buttons. I asked the staff to check the stock room for another in my size, complaining that the one I had was missing buttons everywhere. They had it! One more left in my size in perfect condition. I was so excited! I'd been looking for a coat that fit that wasn't going to cost me a good portion of my monthly salary for a while now. But I was still not sure which one I wanted. I really wanted a white coat.

They brought the coat over to me from stock, and then I felt it. Paranoia set in, and the shopping devil entered. Everyone was sifting through the beige coat rack looking for one in my size. I watched lady after lady move to another rack with dissapointment, as I was holding the last coat in its size. I refused to put it down. I knew if I let it go for a second to try on other coats, it would be snatched away. I needed that coat. As I picked up a couple of other coats to try on in front of a mirror, I lodged the beige on in between my knees, vigilant of those that wanted to take it. Not until the ping! of the cash register after I purchased my new beige coat did I finally breathe a sigh of relief. The shopping devil was now exiting.

A Picture of Your Brain on Crack...

2006-10-24T17:40:00.000-07:00

Tips on how to handle people with poor social skills:

5:30PM at work

Ring, ring!

Me: Hello, LANYTransplant speaking.

Verbal silence with some background noise for longer than a telemarketer's pause <=Tip #1: When calling others, answer promptly. It helps to pay attention.

Me: Hello?

Caller (harshly): Who is this?! <=Tip #2: This question is usually reserved for the receiver of the call to pose, not the caller. Refrain from calling when you don't know who you're calling.

Caller: Who are you?!! This is my boyfriend's phone. Why are you on it?! How did you get it? Did you just find a phone somewhere?! <=Tip #3: It's generally good practice to gather sufficient, definitive evidence before accusing the unsuspecting of cheating and then stealing.

Me: No, [you crazy bitch] this isn't your boyfriend's phone. This is LANYTransplant at [insert firm name]. You’ve dialed the wrong number, [you moron]! <=Tip #4: It’s best to imagine the bracketed, italicized words in your head rather than voice them aloud, as you are your firm’s representative when receiving calls on your work phone during work hours, even if you are talking to a crackhead. On a similar note, refrain from using the firm’s caller ID feature.

Caller: Hump! Click. <=Tip #5: When making a complete ass of yourself, you are unlikely to successfully transfer blame onto others. Apologies are a more appropriate response.

Tip #6=> Vent silently at work.

OMG! WTF! WTF! Seriously, wtf was that?!

The Sound of My Lovely Voice

2006-10-19T13:40:00.001-07:00

I spent half of a day last weekend writing my self review for work. I hate doing those things, which is why I started it the day before it was due. What a way to ruin a weekend! Anyway, I got tired of writing it and left the last half of a paragraph to finish at work the next day. I was planning to e-mail it to my work account, but got paranoid that if the e-mail were to somehow get blocked, I'd be screwed. So, I dug out my mini removable drive to carry to work instead.

This external drive contained all of the data which I had completely forgotten about from my old computer. It had all of my old college and grad school papers, pictures and even old video messages that the Boy and I used to send to each other occasionally. I had competely forgotten about those.

Curiously, I clicked on the video folder and played a couple of the Boy. Ahahahaha! What I once had thought so sweet were now so hilarious that I nearly died laughing. The Boy stepped over and started laughing himself and then threatened to steal my drive and erase it completely. In the meantime, though, he decided to click on one of my videos as a quick comeback.

OMG! Were my lips always crooked when I talked? Did my voice always sound that retarded?

I looked like a complete dork! And the sound of my voice reminded me of all the times an old boss used to call me into his office right as he was playing my voice messages to amuse himself. I can't stand how I sound on voicemail. It's not how my voice really sounds. Or at least it's not how I hear it in my head.

After listening to myself on enough videos, I didn't want to hear my voice again for a while. This made me so self conscious of speaking that at work the next day, I left very few messages and decided to only speak when prompted.

I never thought that the sound of my own voice would irk me.

Radio Frequency

2006-10-10T14:49:00.000-07:00

When I lived in LA, I used to listen to the radio while sitting in traffic (all the time). This was how I stayed on top of who new artists were and what new song was hot. In New York, I only listen to what's on my IPOD and never have much of a chance to listen to the radio, as I ride the subway to work and everywhere else. The upside to this is that during the few times each year I'm back in LA for a visit, I sit through enough traffic to catch up on what's been playing on the radio without being bored to death of the same songs played over and over again.

Last night, after a coworker passed me a CD and asked if I knew of various other artists (I didn't), I had a hankering to know what was on the radio again and lamented that I had no radio to find out. Then it dawned on me that my cell phone has a built in radio. For the rest of the evening, I listened to and looked up stations equivalent to those that I had listened to in LA, labeling them on my phone so that I would remember which station was what at work the next day.

I listened to the radio on my phone at work for about half of the next day, long enough to realize that I'd mislabeled the Power knockoff as a KIIS knockoff, and the KIIS knockoff as a Star knockoff. After listening to the KIIS equivalent for most of the day, I remembered why I got fed up with listening to the radio each day in LA. Of the 10 songs they played in about a 5 hour span, probably 8 of them were Justin Timberlake's "Lean Back". They chatted about stupid things in between the frequent commercials, and the one interview they were giving was with Justin Timberlake on his hot new song, "Lean Back."

I'm done with the radio now.

Roughin' It - the Real Thing

2006-09-24T18:45:00.000-07:00

I just got back from a camping trip with the Boy, a couple of his friends, and a bunch of his friends' friends (16 people in total). We all met up in White Plains early Monday morning and caravanned to Lake George. This was my first camping trip ever, and boy was I excited!! Lake George was gorgeous. Foliage was already starting, and the trees were covered with lime green, bright yellow and reddish leaves. We had 5 camp sites located close to the beach and a nostalgic looking dock on the lake. The entire place reminded me of Lake Tahoe. Upon arrival, everyone set up their tents. The Boy and I borrowed camping equipment from a friend who supplied us with two very warm sleeping bags and the mother of all tents. It was a huge tent meant to house 6 people (more guests than our teeny tiny Manhattan apartment can squeeze)!

On the first day, we all sort of did our own thing, as campers trickled in at various times. The Boy and I scouted out our camp area, enjoying the lake view on the dock, locating the showers, and walking in the woods. Evening came quickly, as we spent about half the day driving, and it was time to start a campfire to make dinner. Campfires are quite hard to start. The logs take forever to catch on fire, and they burn out if you don't know what you're doing. Luckily, we had a few boyscouts with us who knew how to start fires. We all cringed as they practically stuck their faces into the flames and blew to make the fire bigger. Dinner that night consisted of roasted hot dogs and burgers, all expertly prepared by the Boy who whipped out his arsenal of seasonings to flavor the meat.

After dinner, we all lounged by the fire for a bit before turning in. This was my first night ever sleeping outside. And it rained. It poured. But thanks to the warm sleeping bags and our handy dandy mansion of a tent, it was very comfortable. I fell asleep to the pelting sounds of rain hitting the tent and loved it.

The next day, we woke up and ate a breakfast of instant coffee, rice krispy treats, granola bars, pop tarts, brownies, oatmeal and fruit (no, I didn't eat all of that!) before driving off to a part of the lake where we could rent canoes. We canoed on the lake in teams of three for a couple of hours. I never knew that each person in the canoe has a specific function, and that there is a specific technique to employ in order to steer the boat properly. The person in the front controls the speed, the person in the back controls the direction and the middle person doesn't matter. The boys put me in the middle. Damn sexist pigs! Unfortunately, no one in my boat was aware that these techniques even existed, and the boyscouts paddled off in their teams, leaving us behind and forgetting to coach us on what to do.

We had no control over the boat. We all paddled in different directions at different times, and I'm pretty sure that we occasionally paddled against each other. We were a completely uncoordinated crew and completely unaware of this until we found ourselves in the middle of the lake stuck in a current. We were stuck, couldn't paddle ourselves out and at the mercy of the waves to take us back to the dock. At this point, we decided to stop paddling and wait for the waves to settle. It was nice, floating in the middle of the lake, enjoying the water and the lush foliage that surrounded us. But our brief moment of tranquility (it lasted about 10 seconds) was cut short when a huge speed boat came ripping through the waves out of nowhere. It was aimed directly at us and threatened to capsize our little canoe. We had to think fast and get ourselves out of there. The boys immediately dipped their oars into the water and paddled to no avail. It was then that a *brilliant* idea dawned on me:

Guys, guys. We've tried to turn the boat left so many times, and it never works. The boat just won't turn left. So, why don't we just paddle on the other side and see if the boat will turn right instead?

Hmm...alright.

So, we switched which side we all paddled on and ... right! The boat turned right! We paddled the boat right until its nose was pointed in the right direction just in time for the residual current of the speed boat to push us along to shore. We then found the boyscout campers who showed us how to steer a canoe, and it was smooth sailing for the rest of the day!

Nightfall came, and it was time to roast marshmallows and tell stories by the fire. The storytellers were good. Real good. They told it like it was true, and I believed it all. I couldn't believe that I hadn't thought of this the night before, feeling so safe in a flimsy little tent. It made perfect sense that the forest at Lake George was the premier site for axe murderers and mental patients to be running around, ready to claim their next victim. This freaked me out! I couldn't sleep. I woke up many times in the night, annoyed each time that the Boy was taking this so lightly, fast asleep! Couldn't he hear the footsteps outside the tent!? Didn't he see the shadows all over?! Nope. I'd have to protect us both. He was so fast asleep that he was snoring.

It rained heavily the next morning. We tried to wait it out under a tarp tied to the trees, but it wasn't letting up, so we let the rain drench us as we packed up our gear and headed home.

A Short Vignette:

Setting: Saturday morning after our first night camping. The Boy was already up and dressed.

The Boy whispered for me to wake up and join everyone for breakfast. I reluctanly agreed to wake and get dressed. The Boy left the tent and wandered around outside. I changed out of my PJ's and into jeans and a long sleeved tee. The Boy had left my shoes inside the tent before the door.

As I stuck my right foot into the sneaker and pulled the laces, I noticed a green appendage about an inch and a half long and about a quarter of an inch wide sticking out of the shoe's lip at a 45 degree agle.

Hmm...I don't remeber this being there. It looks like it could be a decorative part, and it matches the shoe quite well. But I really don't remember this being there. Ah, I'll compare it to the other shoe, and if it matches, then I guess it's a part of the shoe I never noticed.

I pulled the other shoe over and looked at its lip.

Nothing there. Nothing there at all. But, if there's not a matching part on the other shoe, and I don't remember it ever being there before, then...it...must...be...

***Complete hysteria***

Visit From an Out of Town Friend

2006-09-16T20:22:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, an old coworker/friend came to visit, giving me a chance to play tour guide once more. In just two and a half days we covered so much! Of course, it helped that we reconnected with another old coworker/friend living on the Upper West side who relieved me of my duty of knowing my way around for a day. Our itinerary:

Friday: Lunch at the Aquagrill (mmm! oysters!), cocktails at an Asia Society mixer in the Upper East Side, dinner at Cafe D'Alsace. While I was at work, my friend shopped in Soho and walked all the way to Downtown Manhattan and across the Brooklyn bridge and back!

Saturday: The Met, stroll through Central Park, lunch at Buchon Bakery in the Time Warner Center (here is where our former coworker/current friend joined us), Times Square, Bryant Park, New York Public Library, Fifth Avenue window browsing, St. Patrick's Cathedral, Rockefeller Center, Broadway play (Hairspray), topped off with some late night drinks and appetizers.

Sunday: Rode the Staten Island ferry to get a nice city skyline view, got lost, walked around South Street Seaport, got lost, bumped into and mowed down a few people in Chinatown (it's too damn crowded there!), got lost, got gelato in Little Italy, got lost, drinks at Union Square, dinner at Oh Taisho! in Astor place, and more drinks at Union Square.

Sunday ended with us meeting my Brooklyn friend in Union Square for one last drink. My visitor exclaimed to my Brooklyn friend that I was such a wonderful tour guide and showed her all over the city. Hmmm...the heavy dose of sightseeing done flawlessly on Saturday with our other friend leading and me pretending to lead seemed to have obliterated the fact that I was lost in between every sight on Sunday. At this, I smiled and kept quiet...until my Brooklyn friend shot me the same confused look I get on my face when asked for directions. To that, I guiltily confessed.

Martha's Vineyard

2006-09-12T18:47:00.000-07:00

The Boy and I spent the second day of our Cape Cod area tour at Martha's Vineyard. The weather started out cold and drizzly. I was a bit disappointed at this, as I was hoping that the Labor Day weekend would bring sunny enough weather to lounge around on the beach in my new bikini. But I suppose it was better that this didn't happen. I wasn't too successful in fixing the color on my legs, and I'm sure the blotchiness and stark color contrasts would have drawn quite a few shocked and disgusted looks. I'd be the girl on the beach that everyone would whisper about: "She shouldn't be allowed in a bikini. "

The ferry ride was extremely windy and rainy up on deck, but surprisingly smooth and tranquil on the bottom level. The rain subsided when we landed at Martha's Vineyard which reminded me of Catalina Island. The Boy and I rented bikes and did a 9 mile stretch from Oak Bluffs to Edgartown, stopping along the way to enjoy the different sights of the two towns. My favorite was the "gingerbread cottages", a collection of gaudily decorated cottages in Oak Bluffs:

The ride from Vineyard Haven where the ferry dropped us off to Oak Bluffs was nice and smooth, but as we continued riding along the coast from Oak Bluffs to Edgartown, the winds blew fiercely against us. Even with a slight decline in the road, we were pedaling furiously on the road to nowhere. In fact, we were pedaling so as not to get blown backward along our course. My thighs were killing me, and it didn't help that I knew we were barely covering any ground. I gave up after a mile of this torture and began walking the bike. As we got closer to Edgartown, the winds died down, and we hopped back onto our bikes, riding through these scenes:

The Cape

2006-09-05T18:45:00.000-07:00

They Boy and I spent the Labor Day weekend in Cape Cod and Martha's Vineyard. We left early Saturday morning for a four hour drive from New York City to Fairhaven, MA where our hotel was located. The drive was nice, as traffic was pretty light and the view scenic. The night before, the Boy and I packed a roadtrip feast of pretzels, cheeze nips, kit kat bars, egg salad sandwiches (deliciously prepared by the Boy), pasta salad (expertly prepared by me), peanut butter sandwiches, water and Odwalla bars. We checked into our hotel at around 10:30AM, and took a 20 minute nap before driving to Cape Cod to check out its various towns. The first stop a town in the Upper Cape called Sandwich, a museum town. Almost all sights and attractions in Sandwich were turned into a museum. They Boy and I aren't big museum people, so we just walked/drove around the town and took a bunch of pictures:

Next, we drove across the Middle Cape to Chatham to check out a lighthouse, walk around a quaint, little shopping area and splash around at the beach. Chatham is a cute place with a central shopping area/attraction reminiscent of a beach town. The place was trafficky, and we had to circle around to find parking. We hung around the shopping area a bit, popped in and out of a couple of stores and then decided to see their beach and famous lighthouse. It's funny how your perception of what's walkable and what's not differs so much from person to person. Not wanting to give up our parking spot only to look for another in an impossibly crowded area, we were hoping that someone would tell us that the lighthouse was a reasonable walk away. We asked a young lady in a convenience store, who told us that it was a little ways down the road. We asked how far, and she referred our question to an older gentleman who emphatically said that it was not walking distance. He estimated that it was two miles away, to which the young lady disagreed and said it was walkable. We left the two to argue and began the two mile hike to the beach. About 10 minutes (3-4 blocks) later, we were there. Two miles my ass! I don't know that it exceeded 3/4 of a mile. The beach was scenic, but it was a windy day. We dipped our feet into the water, and spent the rest of the time enjoying the views:

After this, it was back in the car for us as we headed out to Provincetown at the northeastern tip of the Cape. We made a quick stop along the way to see a famous lighthouse at Truro:

A short while later, we were at Provincetown-my favorite of all the little towns. Provincetown is a very lively, energetic beach town with lots of little shops and seafood restaurants. After I picked up a little saltwater taffy at one of the cute candy stores, the Boy and I were hungry for dinner and eyeing an extremely crowded lobster restaurant with a line out the door. We took a beeper and walked around for a little while until we got too hungry and opted to try out a highly recommended seafood shack (Frommer's) in Wellfleet called Moby Dick's. The Boy had an extremely fresh and meaty lobster, while I munched on fries and a juicy lobster roll. Mmmm! This concluded our tour of Cape Cod. The next day we'd take a ferry to Martha's Vineyard.

Tips

2006-08-24T16:09:00.000-07:00

The Boy: Off to get a haircut? Just remember, they'll say anything to get a fatter tip! Don't believe them!

Me: I know that!

I got a haircut last Saturday at a local hair salon. I like going there because it's cheap and really close to my apartment. Another perk to this place is that the hair washing usually comes with a luxurious 5 minute head and neck massage. The massage is the best part! I could just blissfully fall asleep on the chair as the washer massages my head.

But, they have this weird division of labor separating hair washers from hair cutters. It makes the tipping confusing because I don't know whether I'm supposed to tip the hair washer separately, or if the teams have tip splitting deals, as the Boy once suggested. After all, I've never seen a customer tip the hair washer, and it would seem a little awkward reaching into your purse with your hair dripping as the hair washer holds the towel on your head while walking you over to the hair cutter.

I walked into the salon, and the hostess (always friendly) sat me down into the hair washing chair. Immediately, an Asian lady came running over to wash my hair. A minute into the washing, she decided to start some small talk and asked "Where are you from?" I hesitated for a moment. I didn't know what to say. I knew the answer she was looking for, but she asked the wrong question. Normally, when I get this question, I answer "LA" or "from around here" which usually puts people off. I'm not trying to be a smartass; it's just that the answer they're looking for is technically a lie. How can I say I'm from a country that I've never set foot in?

But because the hair washer hadn't given me the scalp and neck massage yet, I didn't want to piss her off.

Me (timidly): I'm from around here.
Hair Washer: What? Sorry, I didn't catch that.
Me(still timid): Umm...here. I live close by.

The hair washer gave me one of those dissatisfied looks. Fearing that she was about to jip me of a massage in order to get her hands off my haughty American head sooner (after all, their tips are probably split, and the head massages are not advertised), I quickly added, "But my parents are from China."

Hair Washer (flashing a smile): Ahh, China! Where in China? Do you speak Cantonese or Mandarin?

Conversation continues, and the massage begins. I told her that my parents came from Southern China, that I understand Cantonese, and that most of my family is in the US. I always feel compelled to ask people questions about themselves if they ask me first. I feel rude not showing any interest at all in their lives if they've shown some in mine. So, I asked where she was from.

Hair Washer: I'm Chinese, but from Indonesia. You're so lucky that your family is here. I'm here all by myself. After the Indonesian Revolution, all Chinese people fled. They were looting the businesses and killing Chinese. The Indonesians hate Chinese. My brothers and sisters, we had to go wherever we could. I came to New York, my sister went to Amsterdam, my brother to Singapore, and another brother to Malaysia.

Ohh, the poor woman! Separated from her family, and made to wash hair all day long?! I'll slip her a little extra tip.

With that, she wrapped my head up in a towel and led me to the hair cutting chair. A cheery, Russian-sounding lady came to greet me and asked what I wanted. She was enthusiastic about everything! Two inches off, please. Wonderful!! I hate people that ask me to take off 1/16 of an inch. Good girl! How about some long layers? Brilliant! Long layers would be great! And then she began snipping away, cheerily chatting with me the whole time. About halfway through, she exclaimed in a voice reminiscent of Invana Trump, "Your hair-it's so wonderful to cut. It cuts like, like- it cuts like butter!" I had to snicker at this, but the flattery and sob stories did get to me.

By the time I'd left, the tips I handed out amounted to 35% of the hair cut price.

Sunday Church

2006-08-19T21:44:00.000-07:00

The Boy used to be a regular church goer. I'm not sure what caused him to stop going, but I remember it happened a little before we started dating. And then all of a sudden a little more than a week ago, the Boy asked if I would check out a local church with him on Sunday.

I wasn't raised Christian and had only been to church a handful of times in the past. Aside from the first time in preschool when my cousins from Texas (avid Christians still to this day) visited, all of my church experiences have been disastrous. Knowing this, I was fully supportive of going to church with him on Sunday, but reminded him that I was trusting his judgement.

The Boy wanted to attend the evening session at 6PM. A little beforehand, I changed into a nice, below-the-knee pink skirt and white top, while the Boy paired khaki slacks with a button down shirt and combed his hair neatly to the side. As a final touch, the Boy grabbed a bible, ironically, the one given to me by a former friend in a cult.

We walked down the street and over a couple of blocks to the Episcopalian(?) church. The church was probably under construction, as we sat in what looked like a classroom with 30-40 fold out chairs lined in a square on 3 sides. There were about 25 people in attendance, at least half of them my mom's age of various ethnicities (multicultural's good). Aside from the pastor, the Boy was the only other attendee carrying a Bible. All of the relevant verses for this session were printed out in a newsletter for everyone's convenience.

Most of the session consisted of singing church songs and then reading a few verses in between. I wasn't too familiar with most of the tunes, but tried to sing along. I found it quite charming that the Boy knew the words to most of the songs and sang loud enough for me to hear everything. I had a hard time following some of the readings because it was all new to me, and the pastor didn't explain much of what anything meant. Somewhere in the middle of the session, the pastor said a prayer for peace around the world and then instructed everyone to shake hands with everyone else and say "peace." So for about five minutes, everyone walked around the room, shaking everyone else's hand amid constant murmurs of "peace." Then we went back to singing songs.

In the last 15 minutes of church, the pastor asked everyone to get up and form a semi-circle around a table where he stood with bread, two large ceramic goblets, and a flask. It just happened that we caught a session where they were going to break bread. I watched as he took the bread out of its plastic wrapping and started to rip off little pieces until there was enough for everyone. Next, I was expecting him to break out the little shot-sized plastic cups to fill with grape juice. But instead, he began emptying the flask into the two ceramic goblets.

What?! All 25 of us are going to share 2 communal goblets?! But I don't even know any of your names! None of you knows my name! How do you know I don't have mono?

The pastor took the first sip out of one of the goblets, and then the two helpers took their sips. The pastor then went around the circle, placing a piece of bread in each person's hand while blessing it. His helpers followed, holding the goblets up to each person's mouth to take a sip. I looked over at the Boy to see how calm he was about sharing a cup with a bunch of strangers. He avoided eye contact, and now one of the helpers was approaching me with a goblet that about ten people had sipped out of. The helper looked confused about what to do, as I stood there frozen, not having eaten my bread.

Just put your lips on the goblet, but don't drink.

With that, I popped the bread into my mouth, chewed and put my lips onto the goblet. It was then that I had one of those moments where your brain decides to completely ignore your will. My lips parted slightly, and I tasted not grape juice, but some intensely strong, syrupy alcoholic beverage.

This isn't grape juice! It tastes like mead. At least I'm not at the end of the line.

As the pastor said his prayer for breaking bread, I silently prayed for the sound health of everyone in attendance.

Church ended about 5 minutes later. I was curious to know what the Boy thought and if we would be going back. I knew when he grabbed my hand, said a brief, but friendly "hello" to the pastor and then bolted out of there, dragging me along.

Adventures in Tribeca

2006-08-16T19:13:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday, the Boy and I decided to check out Tribeca. The Boy always thought it would be cool to live in a loft down there, and I thought it would be extremely cool to have a 10 minute commute to work.

It was well before noon when we exited Canal street off the C train and headed in the direction of Chambers street. First stop was Bouley's bakery shop/restaurant right across the street from Bouley where we shared a yummy soft shell crab sandwich and a buttery croissant under an umbrellaed table along the sidewalk. It would have been great for people watching if there were any people around to watch. Tribeca felt a lot different from our Upper East Side neighborhood. It's a lot more industrial looking, and things are more spread out. Compared to other places in Manhattan, it seemed relatively dead on the weekend. Personally, I like living in a livelier, more neighborhood-like environment.

Next, we sought out to find a famous soda shop to try an egg cream. The Boy watches a lot of FoodNetwork and explained to me that egg cream is a very New York drink. It was popular during the Great Depression when people couldn't afford a lot. It's made with a little bit of milk, combined with a bit of chocolate syrup and then sprayed full of seltzer water. The top is foamed up a bit so that it looks like egg foam. This was to fool people into believing that they were getting a nutritious drink with milk and egg, when in reality there was no egg and very little milk.

The soda shop looked just like what I imagined an old-time soda place would look like. There was a wooden bar operated by a soda jerk, and nostalgic candies to be sold in a dimly lit shop with wooden tables and seats. The Boy and I walked right up to the bar and ordered an egg cream. We wanted to see how the drink was made. We were expecting a lot of mixing and fancy foaming machines, but instead saw the soda jerk pour in a couple of tablespoons of milk, squeeze a few squirts from bottle of chocolate syrup (like Hershey's), spray in seltzer water and then mix the top a bit to create a little foam. That was it?! This is what the Boy's coworkers and the FoodNetwork raved about?

The Boy and I each took sips as we walked out, telling eachother that it was "not bad." We kept passing the drink back and forth as we walked around Tribeca until we couldn't stand it anymore, and each confessed that the drink was actually quite gross. Blech! Disgusting! It's making me sick! We tossed it out at the nearest trash can and then headed over to Chinatown to do a quick grocery run before going home.

I think we'll stay in the Upper East Side.

The First One

2006-08-12T20:35:00.000-07:00

A close friend of mine got married in Reno last Saturday. I, along with three other girls, was a bridesmaid. She's the first in our group to go, which is why this wedding was so special.

Our girl group formed during our last year of high school. We all grew up together, knew eachother on and off, and hung around different crowds throughout intermediate school and high school. Then, in the last year before most of us would head off to different colleges, we became sisters. It's funny how afterwards, we became closer, always met up during breaks and visited eachother at our different schools throughout college. When college ended, and we eventually went our own separate ways (one off to Nor. Cal and Reno, one off to Paris, me off to NY, and the other two in various So. Cal places), time always stood still for our friendship. On the rare occasions where we were all together again, we'd pick up right where we'd left off.

The day of the wedding started off bright and early at 8AM where two of the bridesmaids and I, along with the bride's mother and the sister of one of the bridesmaids, drove from the house we stayed at in Lake Tahoe to the Montreux Golf Club in Reno. We arrived at around 9AM, and had a half hour to spare before the hairstylist arrived to twist buns weaved with baby's breath into all of our heads. The morning was filled with bride and bridesmaid wedding preparations (hair, makeup, wedding scene adjustments).

By 2PM, the photographer arrived and started to take pictures as we zipped and buttoned the bride into her wedding gown. The bride looked gorgeous in her satin, strapless gown which flowed into a luxurious train studded with beads over just the right amount of poof. The final touch, a tiara, completed her transformation into a princess.

We moved over to a balcony overlooking the golf course to pose for more pictures. The weather was perfect-rain and thunder from the night before had cleared the skies and left behind cottony, white clouds against a bright blue backdrop.

By 4PM, the bride, groom and their party lined up behind the golf course to make their entrance down the isle. The bride's grandmother walked out first with the bride's brother in arm. The groom's parents followed next. And then each bridesmaid walked out with a groomsman in arm and lined up along the altar.

Finally, the bride would make her entrance. The bride took great care in ensuring that the groom would see her wedding gown for the first time only as she walked down the aisle. Arm in arm with her mother, the bride made her way down. At the first sight of his beautiful bride in her gown, the groom stood frozen in awe. Looks of admiration, happiness and love swept over the groom's face, prompting the bride to tear up halfway down the aisle.

After a very nice, 20 minute ceremony followed by a passionate kiss (officiant's orders), the bride and groom walked as husband and wife down the aisle as the guests waived streamers to see them off.

After another photo session on the golf course, we headed off to the reception under a tent overlooking the golf course where we dined on filet mignon, salmon, mashed potatoes and asparagus spears followed by a scrumptuous three layer wedding cake. The first layer was grand marnier, the second amaretto and the last chocolate hazelnut. Mmmm! Of course the bride barely got a chance to eat, as she and her new husband were busy greeting and chatting with their 130+ guests. They also changed a few times during the reception-once into traditional Korean clothing to bow and pay respects to their parents, then back into their wedding gown and tuxedo for their first dance, and then into more comfortable clothes to dance the night away.

By 11PM, the party dwindled down to a few remaining guests and the wedding party. We stayed a bit to clean up and then said our goodbyes, wishing the bride and groom a happy honeymoon before heading back to the house in Tahoe.

Fun Airplane Stories

2006-08-06T16:02:00.000-07:00

Story #1
Background

Girl's good friend and old college roommate is getting married. Girl/Bridesmaid lives in New York, bride to be lives in Reno. Bridesmaid books ticket in order to arrive in Reno the morning before the wedding (August 4). There are no direct flights from JFK to RNO.

Scene

2:40AM (Aug. 4): Bridesmaid takes shuttle to airport to catch a 5:40AM flight going from JFK to Houston connecting on to Reno.

5:40AM: Entire plane is boarded. Either the flight crew forgot to fuel the plane the night before, or decided it was best to fuel the plane at 5:40AM when the plane should have departed. Flight crew informs everyone that they will be taking a few minutes to fuel the plane, and then depart shortly.

6:00AM: Bridesmaid is asleep on the plane which still hasn't left the gate. Bridesmaid is awakened as the man sitting next to her complains to the flight crew that he will miss his connecting flight. Bridesmaid asks the man if he is connecting to Reno. Man is connecting to Arizona, and confides that his numerous attempts to catch connections through Continental have all failed. Bridesmaid still holds out hope that everything will still run smoothly.

7:00AM: Plane still has not left the gate. They are having technical problems fueling the plane and need a mechanic. Continental does not have their own mechanic and must try to poach one off of Delta. Sensing that she's missed the only Continental flight of the day going from Houston to Reno, Bridesmaid freaks out and can't sleep anymore. Bridesmaid calls customer service to figure out alternate plans*.

7:45AM: Plane is fueled and takes off after only a two hour delay.

10:00AM: Plane arrives in Houston. Bridesmaid gets in line to receive Continental's best efforts to re-route everyone.

10:15AM: Customer service attempts to hand Bridesmaid a new ticket to fly out to Reno the next day, leaving the poor girl stranded in Houston overnight. Upon hearing that the airline's best offer would be to fly her out to Reno after the wedding is either well on its way, or worse, completely over, bridesmaid's face contorts into a nasty mix of emotions, prompting the customer service lady to withdraw the ticket before the bridesmaid can even reach out to take it. Customer service lady informs the bridesmaid that "it's too early for this" and states that she can probably get her out today, essentially warding off the dark clouds of a brewing tantrum.

10:30AM: Customer service makes the line disappear and then turns her attention to Bridesmaid. Customer service lady asks if Bridesmaid will accept a flight to Salt Lake City with a connecting flight to Reno. Elated, Bridesmaid accepts.

10:35AM: Customer service lady is having trouble securing the promised tickets, and discovers that the computer has booked the bridesmaid to fly to Salt Lake City and then to Reno for the next day. Bridesmaid's face begins to contort, and customer service lady quickly recommends trying to go through Phoenix.

10:45AM: Customer service lady books bridesmaid on an already overbooked flight to Phoenix connecting on to Reno. Bridesmaid nervously asks if her seat is confirmed and definite. Customer service lady assures Bridesmaid that her phantom seat is secured. Naive Bridesmaid is elated and goes on her way.

11:00AM: Bridesmaid is at the gate kiosk for the Phoenix flight and asks, as instructed by customer service, for "a seat to be forced through." Lady at kiosk states, "Force a seat through? This is an overbooked flight. There are no seats available. You don't have a seat. "

11:05AM: Bridesmaid begins telling sob story about missing good friend's wedding in Reno to kiosk lady who sort of cares, but not that much. Another kiosk lady tells bridesmaid to step aside. If someone happens to not show up, there will be a seat for Bridesmaid. Kiosk lady further offers $200 to anyone who will take the next flight to Phoenix. Two people need to accept in order for Bridesmaid to get on.

11:15AM: One person accepts. Bridesmaid is so nervous and distressed that she doesn't realize that the person waiting next to her is on the fence about accepting the flight bump. Person waiting next to Bridesmaid offers her a dollar in order to use her phone to contact his family(about accepting the flight bump). Generous Bridesmaid insists the person use her phone for free.

11:20AM: Bridesmaid hears phone user's conversation and realizes that he may be her ticket onto the flight. Phone user hangs up, thanks Bridesmaid without making any eye contact, and then goes up to the kiosk to inform the lady that he wishes to reclaim his ticket. He will not be accepting the flight bump. Bridesmaid wants to cry. The flight is completely boarded and should be leaving soon.

11:25AM: Kiosk lady doesn't want to completely crush Bridesmaid, so she tells her that she's still working on getting her a seat.

11:30AM: A straggler presents his ticket to board. Kiosk lady makes one last attempt to bump his flight for a $200 credit. Straggler asks if she's open to negotiate. Bridesmaid stares intently at the situation. Kiosk lady offers Straggler $400. Straggler accepts and Bridesmaid gets the last seat on the plane.

11:35AM: Overjoyed, Bridesmaid thanks Straggler profusely with a smile stretching from ear to ear. Kiosk lady prints out Bridesmaid's pass, and Bridesmaid happily trots over to ticket taker to present her pass.

11:40AM: Bridesmaid is in her seat, and on her way to Reno. Nothing can ruin her happiness.

11:55AM: Bridesmaid is munching on a pizza slice when the plane starts shaking violently. The wings are making lots of noise, and it sounds like things are falling off the plane. Bridesmaid sets down her pizza and then begins to hyperventilate, believing that the crappy Continental plane she's sitting on is going down.

12:00PM: The plane stabilizes. Bridesmaid wonders why the plane crew didn't make some sort of annoucement about turbulance at any point. Was the crew hoping that no one would notice the sonic boom/earthquake-in-the-air we just blew through? Bridesmaid later finds out that the Houston-Phoenix flight is an extremely bumpy one.

1:22PM: Bridesmaid catches flight from Phoenix to Reno.

3:10PM: Bridesmaid arrives in Reno and just makes it to the 4PM wedding rehearsal!

Deleted Scenes/Outtakes:
Entitled: Tales of Complete Stupidity

Bridesmaid (on the phone with customer service upon learning that she will miss her flight): Hello, I think I'm going to miss my connecting flight.

Customer service: What makes you think that?

Bridesmaid: I've been sitting on this runway for an hour and twenty minutes. Here's my confirmation number.

Customer service: Let me look that up. Hmm...uhhuh... You know what? I think you're going to miss your connecting flight. <--stupid comment

Bridesmaid: Can you check for me to see when the next available flight out to Reno is? I need to get to Reno sometime tonight. I'm in a wedding starting early tomorrow morning.

Customer service: You're not going to get anything from Houston to Reno today. You're going to have to fly out on the next available tomorrow.

Bridesmaid: I don't need a direct flight. I'll take any number of connections neccessary.

Customer service: Alright, I'll see if we can find other nondirect routes. <--Another stupid moment

Customer service: Hmmm...well, when you get into Houston, we have a flight you can connect onto Newark...

Uh-huh, I'm willing to bet every penny I own that I can get myself from JFK to Newark faster than your plane can get me there going through Houston.

Customer service: ...O! But that one will take you right back over to Houston. <--Does the stupidity ever stop?

Story #2
Background
Bridesmaid's good friend has successfully gotten married and thrown a wonderful wedding party. She is now Mrs. Bride and set to go on her honeymoon with Mr. Bride to Tahiti early the next morning. 2 bridesmaids and another wedding guest/friend are set to fly to LA early the next morning. Neither party knows that both parties will be at the airport at the same time.

Scene
Bridesmaids and guest are waiting to board their 8:55AM Southwest flight from Reno to LA. All flights going from Reno to LA are completely booked for the day, as everyone is leaving Reno after the Hot August Nights Classic Car Convention.

Bridesmaid #2 spots a veil on the back of an Asian girl at the nearby Delta terminal, and asks Bridesmaid #1, "Is that Mrs. Bride over there?"

Bridesmaid #1: "No, of course not! What would Mrs. Bride be doing at the airport all dressed up in her wedding gown and veil? No."

Bridesmaid #2: But it really looks like her.

Bridesmaid #1: Yeah, it does sort of look like her.

Mrs. Bride turns her head a bit, showing her profile and confirming that she is Mrs. Bride! Bridesmaid #2 runs over to Mrs. Bride to say hi, and Bridesmaid #1 stays behind to watch the luggage and save their place in line.

Bridesmaid #1 watches as Bridesmaid #2 and Mrs. Bride hug. Mrs. Bride starts crying uncontrollably. The honeymoon was booked incorrectly. Since there are no direct flights to ANYWHERE out of Reno, the honeymoon was booked to fly from Reno to LA and then from LA to Tahiti. The Reno-LA leg was accidentally booked for the day before.

With all of the flights out of Reno to LA being overbooked, Mr. & Mrs. Bride give up hope of catching their Tahiti flight for the honeymoon...until she runs into two bridesmaids and guest who all have the necessary tickets to get to LA.

Frazzled honeymooners, bridesmaids and guest proceed to transfer their tickets. Mrs. Bride checks that 2 Bridesmaids and guest are ok to leave Reno the next day. Mrs. Bride thinks to book a rental car for Bridesmaids and guest.

The flight is halfway boarded when two random people don't show up for their flight, opening up the two seats necessary for Mr. & Mrs. Bride to get to LA. Tickets no longer need to be transferred, everyone gets a seat, and they all live happily ever after.

Jersey Shore

2006-07-31T07:14:00.000-07:00

I think last Saturday was one of the hottest days this summer. Knowing that it would be pretty hot, the Boy and I got up early and headed down to the Jersey Shore to cool off at the beach. We got to the Shore at around 10:30AM, and went straight over the beach at Belmar. As we neared the sand, a huge sea of brightly colored beach umbrellas dotted the Jersey coast. The place was packed and hot! Everyone was laying out with their sunglasses and bikinis, sipping cold drinks from their coolers and enjoying the sun.

When we got to the boardwalk, there was a wooden fence around the beach with people manning each opening. You have to pay to get onto the beach?!! Coming from the West Coast where almost every beach along the coast is free, we thought, "this is preposterous!"

After getting an iced coffee and some donuts in a wonderfully air conditioned Dunkin' Donuts, we walked along the boardwalk to check out whether we wanted to pay for Belmar or Sea(something), the beach right next to Belmar. Since they looked exactly the same, we each paid the $7 fee to get into Belmar. We figured, it was closer to the train stop and therefore more convenient.

We walked along the crowded beach along the water to cool down until we found our spot and laid out our beach towels. We didn't have a big beach umbrella, so we poked a little black rain umbrella into the sand to cover our faces as we laid out (quite a comical sight, I'm sure).

Despite the huge crowds of people at the Shore, the water was crystal clear and gorgeous! It got pretty hot under our little umbrella, so every half hour or so, we'd run into the water, splash around and try to ride the waves. This was the first time I'd ever tasted seawater, and it's definitely the saltiest water I'd ever tasted. Because I can't swim, I swallowed a lot of seawater each time a wave hit. Yuck!

We spent most of the day running in and out of the water and reading on the beach otherwise. Remebering the nasty sunburn I got the last time I went to the beach at Fire Island, I slathered myself with a heavy dose of BullFrog sunblock, but left some areas uncovered in an attempt to fill in some tan lines. My plan didn't work so well. By the end of the day, my skin was a ridiculous mix of brown tan tones, red sunburn tones and milk white tones for skin that had never seen the sun. I give up. I'm running to my bottle of sunless tanner to clean up this mess.

Rude Subway Behavior

2006-07-25T10:17:00.000-07:00

Everyone who rides the subway knows how jam packed they get during the morning rush hour. Today, a girl on my train decided to ignore this fact and assume that she had loads and loads of personal space. As we exited 14th Street, I watched her get up from her seat, and then swing her bag onto her shoulder. I was amazed that the lady sitting next to her knew exactly when to duck so as to not get hit, while never looking up from her knitting. Unfortunately, I wasn't so quick. Not expecting that the girl would flick her wrist as she let go of a pole I was standing near, I ended up with a slap in the face on my way out.

Salsa!

2006-07-22T19:39:00.000-07:00

I signed the Boy and I up for salsa lessons a while back, and they started a couple of weeks ago. Every Thursday night at 8PM, we walk down the street for our group lessons. The lessons are fun, but of course there are about 15 girls and only about 6 guys to go around. I'm fine with rotating dance partners because you aren't supposed to get used to only dancing with the same person, but I do find it a bit annoying at times that I brought a partner to the lessons, yet find myself dancing alone most of the time. This is also the reason why most girls at the lessons barely perspire (we can choose to take breaks when we have no partner), but the boys find themselves a sweaty mess by the end.

Today, the Boy and I decided to stay in and practice salsa dancing. We found some Mexican salsa music on his IPOD and some Santana songs that had a salsa beat. Then we ran into walls, stepped on eachother's feet, kicked eachother's toes and fell over laughing until we got the moves right by the end of the night. We're getting there!

The Softer Side of Me

2006-07-15T10:02:00.000-07:00

Between the Boy and I, we've got 3 IPODs, all different versions. Mine is the Mini, and the Boy owns two earlier versions (he bought an IPOD when he first moved to the E.C., and then got another IPOD from his old boss as a Christmas gift). Because the Boy maintains all of the IPODs (rips songs off from his coworkers and downloads from other places), he swaps our IPODs occasionally when he feels like carrying the Mini instead of one of his older, clunkier versions.

This week, I found the his clunkiest IPOD ,which holds a lot more music (pretty much anything and everything he's been able to get his hands on whether he listens to it or not), in my bag in place of my Mini. I didn't mind so much, as I now had a vast variety of songs to choose from. So at work, I entertained myself with a lot of Beck, Black Eyed Peas, U2, and the Strokes. Somewhere in the middle of my day as I was scrolling through to choose my next song, I noticed Luther Vandross' "Dance With My Father" song and decided to click on it.

About 15 seconds later, my boss's boss stopped by my desk and motioned for me to hand over one of the earbuds.

Boss's Boss: Hand me one of those. I've always wondered what kind of music you listen to.

Crap! This isn't what I normally listen to. By now, my index finger was circling wildly around the touchpad, as I attempted to find and choose a Beck song. But damn it! There was just so much freakin' crap on this thing that it seemed to take forever.

Boss's Boss: What are you doing pushing all of those buttons?

Me: Uh, well, I was listening to some Beck when my finger slipped and clicked on some other random song. This is my boyfriend's IPOD, the touch pad is so sensitive, and there's just a lot of crap on this thing.

Ah, found it!

Me: Here (handing over an earbud).

Boss's Boss: No, no that's alright. So you mainly listen to alternative type music?

Me: I like a lot of everything, but I do listen to alternative stuff too.

Conversation continues for a minute and boss's boss leaves.

I plugged the IPOD back into my ears. Thank god the boss's boss turned down the offer to listen. Turns out that I'd found Beck, but didn't actually click on it, so Luther Vandross was still playing. I let the song finish. Secretly, I kinda like it.

I Really Should Just Dye My Hair...

2006-07-13T13:17:00.000-07:00

A coworker asked if I'd been to Mexico and if people generally spoke English outside of the resort areas. Since I've only been to Rosarito and Ensenada (not very resorty), I told him that you could get by without speaking too much Spanish. I said that if you wanted to order a taco or something they'd understand. He busted out laughing, and then it hit me.

Fire Island

2006-07-02T18:07:00.000-07:00

The Boy and I spent the day yesterday at Fire Island, a little resort town out on Long Island. We drove about a half hour to Bay Shore in Long Island and then took the ferry out to Ocean Beach, one of the more popular destinations on the island. When we first got off, a bunch of kids greeted everyone to peddle their wagons for rental. There are no cars on this island, so people use wagons to lug their things around and ride bikes to get from place to place, except that Ocean Beach seems to prohibit bike riding on weekends and holidays. I didn't think they were serious about no cars at all on the island. I thought they would at least have cabs for if you wanted to visit other island towns since the island is 30 miles long (only about .5 miles wide, though). We'd planned to visit the Sunken Forest, hang out at the beach and go clamming. But since the Sunken Forest is about 5 miles away from Ocean Beach with no real public transportation, the Boy and I decided to hang out at the beach all day.

Ocean Beach is a cute little town. It's full of bungalow houses surrounded by bamboo looking plants. After walking through about a half mile of bamboo and bungalow homes, we hit the beach with its soft, fine grains of sand. It felt so nice on my feet, and the water was so cool and clear. The Boy and I spent all day lying out on the beach, walking in the water, and listening to the waves. We fell asleep a couple of times in the sand and both ended up with nasty burns by the end of the day. But, what a perfect day trip!

Where's My Freakin' Honey??!!

2006-06-28T10:49:00.000-07:00

Sippin' on some nasty watered down hot chocolate right now. Why? Well, I normally drink tea, and lately I've gotten into the habit of of putting honey in my tea. Now, I can't drink my tea without the honey, and the bucket of honey packets have run out. I opened up all the cabinets to find the refills, and of course, because no one uses the honey packets, they're on the highest shelf. Getting the packets myself would require some acrobatics inappropriate for work on my part, and I don't want to bother a tall person because everyone seems busy. People really shouldn't store things on high shelves. It's not fair to short people.

Oyster Bar, Urena and MI3

2006-05-10T06:27:00.000-07:00

This past Monday was the Boy's birthday, so for the past week, we've met up with a couple of the Boy's friends for dinner.

First off was last Thursday where we had dinner at the Oyster Bar in Grand Central with one of the Boy's old coworkers ('The Greek'). Because of my newfound love for oysters, I'd been meaning to go and was finally there. The Greek's a funny guy. He says exactly what's on his mind and doesn't hold back. Once, we went to the Pearl Oyster Bar, and the waitress took forever to come and take our order. When she finally got to us and asked, "Can I get you something?", the Greek replied with "You can get me a lot of things." We ordered a dozen different oysters to share. I loved them all! Then I had a clam chowder while the guys each ordered fish entrees. My clam chowder was cold and not as good as the ones I'd tasted in SF. The Greek was pissed off because the waiter forgot about his order and didn't bring it for a really long time.

Next, we had dinner with another of the Boy's friends ('The Russian') on Saturday at a Spanish restaurant called Urena. The food there was wonderful! Like, iron chef wonderful! The chef there is very creative with food and likes to play with your senses by mixing opposite tastes together. We ordered three appetizers to start: sweetbreads, grilled shrimp over risotto and a trio of fois gras. Normally, I hate fois gras. But the way it was prepared here, you wouldn't know that it was fois gras at all. The first preparation was a fried ball with fois gras in it. The second was a fois gras terrine with cocoa nibs and chocolate on the outside. The third preparation was like a fois gras yogurt cup. It was so pretty and fun to eat! The shrimp and sweetbreads looked normal and tasted really good. I'd never eaten sweetbreads before, and the Boy insisted I not tell the Russian what sweetbreads are until he'd eaten it or else he might not eat it (it's a thyroid membrane). I knew what I was eating was disgusting, but it was flavored so well that I liked it. For the main, we ordered pork bellies, braised short ribs and seared sesame crusted tuna. Everything tasted great. When it came time to order dessert, the Russian distracted the Boy with work talk while I asked the waiter to add candles to our dessert. He decided to do better and brought out a mini cake with candles in addition to our dessert. So, the Boy got a nice little surprise. For dessert, we ordered the coffee and donuts. The plate came with a gourmet donut, cream flavored ice cream, a small cube of strong coffee jelly, coffee foam smeared across the plate and a crunchy topping thing. If you mixed all of the ice cream, coffee jelly, foam and nutty stuff together, it tasted like you were drinking a real cup of coffee. Yes, I know-why not just get a real cup of coffee then?! Because that just wouldn't be as fun!

Finally, on the Boy's actual birthday, we made dinner together and went out to see MI3. Because of the convenience of Netflix, it was the first time that the Boy and I had gone to the movie theater together since I moved to New York.

Spa Week Specials

2006-05-04T15:34:00.000-07:00

Spa week in New York was two weeks ago, and I managed to book an appointment for the Boy and I at the Lia Schorr Day Spa in the Upper East Side for last Saturday. Even though it wasn't spa week anymore, Lia Schorr was extending their spa week specials as a promotion. So, I booked a facial for myself and a massage for the Boy for only $50 each.

I was a bit excited because Lia Schorr got rave reviews, and I'd never had a real facial done before. I made the appointments in order to give us enough time to catch a movie premiering at the Tribeca Film Festival.

But I have the worst luck with appointments. Quite often, my appointments and reservations equate to nothing because the staff usually forgets I'm there even though I remind them occasionally. I showed up 15 minutes early for my 11:45 appointment and waited an hour before the facialist took me. The Boy went in for his massage right away, pretty much defeating the purpose of going to the spa together and not having to wait for eachother.

By the time the facialist took me, the Boy had about 10 minutes left to his massage. My facial was supposed to last 75 minutes, so the Boy would have to wait about an hour for me, too. The facialist could tell that I was annoyed. This is exactly why it's called a Day Spa-a one hour appointment will take up your entire freakin' day.

The facialist was a soothing, pleasant lady, though, so I forgot about the wait and decided to be nice. She gave me a very relaxing neck and shoulder massage. The facial wasn't bad, either, but I found out that my skin's too sensitive to have all of these things done to it all at once. The facialist massaged my face, steamed it, squeezed it, picked it, and slathered on various masks and lotions. My face looked red, irritated and worn out for the next week and a half.

It was so late by the time I got out that we missed the Tribeca Film Festival movie. The Boy and I ended up running errands together in the Upper West Side for the rest of the day. The upside of this is that the Boy and I both discovered that neither of us finds the whole spa experience to be a pampering one.

Cafe Boulud

2006-05-03T15:03:00.000-07:00

When it comes to food, the Boy has become impossible to please. Last Friday, we finally made our dinner reservation at Cafe Boulud in the Upper East Side. We'd cancelled before due to bad weather and other things.

The place was nice and very welcoming, but the crowd was older and a bit stuffy. I'm pretty sure we were the youngest diners in the restaurant for most of the evening. At first, I was worried this would equate to crappy service, because that's usually been the case in the past. But to the contrary, the service was extremely attentive and welcoming.

We each ordered appetizers and entrees and then shared a dessert. I ordered a seafood appetizer (langoustine?) which was the size of my entire entree at Eleven Madison Park. It had a whole lobster tail in it which was delicious. The Boy ordered the crisy frog's legs, which I reluctantly sampled at first. The Boy wasn't impressed with his appetizer (he thought it tasted too Asian), but I thought it tasted so good that we switched appetizers after a few bites.

Next, came the entree. I ordered rabbit, and he had a Morroccan tagine. The dishes were good, but not incredible. I'd had rabbit at a much less expensive restaurant in LA that tasted just as good. For dessert, we shared chocolate banana crepes.

Both of us had a nice time enjoying eachother's company. I thought the food was fine, but the Boy is now going to scrap his 'fridge list.

What Happens When You Drink Too Much Coffee

2006-05-01T18:56:00.000-07:00

The Boy was especially jittery last Friday afternoon at work. So jittery that he inadvertently pressed a combination of buttons on his work phone which forwarded all calls to my workphone. Late Friday afternoon, my phone rang.

Me: Hello, this is LANYtransplant speaking.
Other End (The Boy's Friend): Hi, may I speak to the Boy? (Interesting, what's the Girl doing at the Boy's workplace on a Friday afternoon answering his phone?)

Complete and utter confusion.

Me: Huh? Umm...
Who the...? What the...? What am I supposed to say? I'd love to hand the phone over to the Boy, but right now we're not even in the same state. Why am I getting the Boy's calls?

Me: Umm...you want to speak to the Boy? This isn't the Boy's number.
Other end: It's not? Oh, well then...

Me: Uh, wait!
Who is this? Maybe it's a business contact. Would it be unprofessional to introduce myself as his girlfriend? I hate girlfriends who pick up their guy's phones and say, 'This is his girlfriend' before demanding to know who the other person is.

Me: Who is this? I actually know the Boy. If you'll leave your name and number, I'll have him call you back.

Other end: (The hell's wrong with her?) Yeah, sure. Please.

Me: (Please what?! I can't very well have him call you if you don't give me your name!) I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Who is this again?

Other end: The Boy's friend.

Me: The Boy's...OMG! That is sooo weird! It's LANYtransplant. How did you end up calling me to reach the Boy?

Other end: What number did I dial? You know the Boy? You KNOW the Boy? You've got to be kidding me! You just KNOW the Boy?

Me: This is my workphone! I had no idea who you were!

Other end: WTF?! Your work number is xxx-xxx-xxxx?

Me: No, that's the Boy's work number. He must have forwarded all of his calls to me. Why would he do that?

Other end: Let me try again.

Click . Ring ring.

Me: Hello?

Other end: It's me again. I'll call the Boy's cell.

Me: Haha.

Other end: Haha.

Click.

Ugh! Rain!

2006-04-22T11:32:00.000-07:00

Not much goin' on this rainy weekend. It sucks that the weather has been so nice (60-70 degrees) all week so that it could rain all weekend. I'll get out to go shopping with my Brooklyn friend tomorrow, though. The Boy's taking his GMAT next Friday, so next weekend will be full of fun activities! We have a reservation at Cafe Boulud on Friday, spa appointments on Saturday morning (my idea-I signed him up for a massage and booked a facial for myself), and will try to catch a movie at the Tribeca Film Festival afterwards.

The weather last weekend was nice. I went shopping with a friend one day, and then running in Central Park with the Boy the other day. Blossoms were blooming and flying all over the park. It was really nice to watch, but caused a bit of a problem for me when my running slowed down to a walk. I told the Boy to go on so as not to stop his momentum. A slight breeze sent blossoms flying everywhere and got into the eyes of a cyclist behind me. She couldn't see, and by the time she was able to open her eyes again, it was too late. She slammed right into me and knocked me down so hard that I couldn't stop my face from hitting the asphalt. Luckily, the damage was just some minor cuts and bruises. I was annoyed that my knees, which had finally healed from a rollerblading accident a couple of weekends before in SF, were now all messed up again. But all's fine now (well, with my face at least. still got a huge black bruise on the back of my leg where she hit me, and my knees still hurt).

The cyclists in NY are a bit annoying, though. They peddal like maniacs and don't always follow the rules of the road. A coworker's foot has been run over, and many times, the Boy has nearly been run over while crossing the street when they appear out of nowhere.

This Past Weekend

2006-04-09T20:21:00.000-07:00

By last Friday, my cough was in its last stages but still annoyingly there. The Boy and I made a nice dinner of salmon and string beans together and then went out for a walk around the neighborhood since the weather was nice and warm. Lots of people were eating outside and taking walks. At around 11PM we headed back to the apartment, cleaned up a bit and then crashed.

The next day, I had an appointment with a couple of friends at a spa called the Nardi Beauty Center. My friend got us all spa gift certificates last Christmas and thought it would be fun thing to do together. I had a good time hanging out with the girls, but the spa was another thing. I'd already read on Citysearch to beware of all of the extra charges you could rack up using one of these gift certificates which is very specific about what services are covered. You have to be very aware of what the gift certificate says because the staff will not notify you of any extra charges you incur until you get the bill, which I think is very tricky and misleading.

I showed up to my appointment a bit late because of train cancellations and rainy/windy weather. The receptionist wasn't particularly friendly, but it didn't bother me too much since the facialist lady was warm, welcoming and promptly took me away. She laid me down on a bed and shone a light on my face to get a good look at my pores.

Facialist: Oh, my! You have a lot of blackheads and new pores coming out. I highly recommend a deep cleaning facial to clear this all up. Shall I proceed with that?

Translation: Can I con you into spending an additional $100-$200 today?

Me: (This is the wonderful skin analysis advertised in your coupon?!) Umm...can I just get what's included in the gift certificate for today?

Facialist: Sure, you're the boss!

Translation: Damnit!

The "European mini facial" was lame. All she did was spread on a mask, leave it on for 8 minutes and then rub in a couple of lotions. Next, she gave me a quick eyebrow wax which wasn't too bad. The facialist was done with me now and took me out to wait for a hair stylist.

I waited and waited and waited some more. My friends walked by me several times and were surprised to see me still sitting in the wait room. I think the staff overheard my friends' continual surprise each time they saw me still sitting there which forced them into some sort of action. The manicurist came out to do my nails shortly.

I'd never had a manicure before. In fact, I'd never had a facial or eyebrow wax either. The idea of a manicure always scared me after I'd heard horror stories of how unsanitary it is and how people get infected during manicures and pedicures. So, I was a bit nervous. The lady sat me down and was going to start working on me until another lady interrupted her and barked at her to rinse out the conditioner on my friend's hair. As I waited for her to finish working on my friend, I started to pick out colors for the manicurist to use. Ten minutes later, she came back and was about to start on my hands when someone sat down at the hair washing station, and she left me to work on someone else again. Ten minutes later, she finally came back and started working on my hands. When it got time to push back and cut away my cuticles, I unknowingly started a little tug of war with her over who got control over my hands. She looked up and smiled as if to say, "If you want me to give you a manicure, you're going to have to cooperate!" I stopped tugging. After she put on the first coat of nail polish, she turned on a blower and tapped it to signal for me to use it. I'd never seen one of those before and didn't notice the slot underneath where you put your hand to dry, so I just sort of waved my hand over the top which seemed to blow out a bit of residual air. She looked up and tapped the bottom where I stuck my hand in to dry. The whole thing took about 20 minutes, and by the end of the day, I'd already screwed my nails up.

Afterwards, a lady came to wash and cut my hair. This was the only service that I was satisfied with. She did a pretty good job of cutting my hair, and I knew to refuse the blow dry which would cost a good amount extra. My friend wasn't so aware of it and had to pay $25 of the normal $55 fee for this. She was pissed because no one told her that there would be a charge for blow drying, and she didn't even get her hair cut! She almost got conned into the steam/deep cleaning facial, but asked if there would be an extra charge right before the lady was going to start.

All in all, none of us were impressed by the place. The service and some of the work was crappy, and the people seemed a bit shady. Each of us left a skimpy tip. We weren't coming back here again.

I went back to the apt afterwards, took a shower and prettied myself up to have dinner with the Boy who was cooking. My nail polish melted off a bit in the shower. Well, that was pointless! We had dinner and then watched the entire first season of The Office (British version) which cracked me up all night.

The weather was somewhat nice again this Sunday, so the Boy and I hung out at Central Park again.

Last Weekend/Week

2006-04-09T20:00:00.000-07:00

I didn't do much last weekend. I just came back from a conference in SF and caught a nasty sore throat and cold on the plane ride back, so I slept a lot of the weekend. But I did manage to get out a couple of times. My Brooklyn friend had a huge bash at her place on Friday, so after work I came back home, baked some rice krispies to take to the party, and headed over to Brooklyn with the Boy for a couple of hours. The theme of the party was Havana Nights, so everyone was dressed in cute party dresses and there were cuban sandwiches, empanadas and lots of sangria.

I felt pretty crappy on Saturday, so I stayed in and slept most of the day. But on Sunday, the weather was so nice that I had to get out. The Boy and I walked around Central Park for a couple of hours and ended up grocery shopping at Fairway on the West Side. It was there that we ran into Cynthia Nixon. The place was so crowded that she was temporarily trapped in the olive oil/balsamic vinegar section of the store along with everyone else. I got a pretty good look at her there, and she looks exactly as she does on TV except that her hair isn't red, but blonde. We ran into her again later in the street as we were lugging out groceries back to the East Side.

I'm glad that I got to enjoy the nice weather on Sunday because it was cold and rainy the rest of the week. It even snowed on one of the days! My cold/cough lasted throughout the week. I was really busy at work, so I didn't want to take any time off. I'm not so sure how happy this made my coworkers, as I'm sure the entire building could hear me hacking and coughing all day long. Pretty disgusting.

I went out again last Thursday to see a play called "Trial By Water" about a couple of Vietnamese brothers whose parents try to send them to America in the late eighties. It's a true story where a boat carrying about 100 refugees gets stranded in the South China Sea when the engine dies. People get desparate for food and start to eat eachother. I tried to keep my coughing and throat clearing to a minimum and only during silences so as not to drown out the dialogue. The play was good, but a bit overacted and shockingly gross at times. This pretty much ended my friend's sushi cravings and mine too for a while. Afterwards, we grabbed a quick bite at Oh Taisho! in Astor Place.

Eleven Madison Park and My Weekend

2006-03-13T19:16:00.000-08:00

The weather last Friday was unusually warm at 70 degrees. I was overdressed in my wool jacket and dressy sweater with a fur lined collar. All day people had been teasing me about my sweater. My boss laughed at me for wearing fur on such a warm day. A manager asked how I liked walking around with a cat around my neck. I always get funny reactions from people when I wear that sweater. Girls think it's cute and even call it gorgeous. Some guys think it looks nice, while the animal lover guys give me that "and I thought you were such a nice girl" look. It's faux fur! It's not real!

Anyway, I wore the nicer sweater because I was going out to dinner later that night with the Boy at Eleven Madison Park. I showed up way too early for our 7PM reservation and waited in the lobby for the Boy who had a rough time getting into the city from Connecticut. Dinner was nice, but the Boy was disappointed because nothing he ate was that mind blowing. We started out with an appetizer of raw oysters. I thought they tasted fine, but the Boy detected a slightly fishy taste to it and didn't like the fact that he was paying a good price for something that wasn't fresh. I ordered the lobster for dinner, while the Boy ordered lamb. Before the main dishes came, the Boy kept muttering under his breath for me to stop eating so much bread before the main came. I love bread and will knowingly ruin my appetite with it. But when my lobster came out, the plate was so shockingly bare (the lobster was about the size of my thumb, and there was nothing else except for a lot of white space on my plate) that the Boy encouraged me to eat more bread. His plate wasn't quite as empty as mine, but there still wasn't much on it. The food wasn't bad. I enjoyed my little bite of lobster. For dessert we ordered the chocolate lover's tasting menu for two. That was good and filling! My fave was the little shot of rich hot chocolate, and I loved all of the ice creams and tarts.

On Saturday we walked around Union Square and Astor Place during the day since the weather was so nice and then watched the 40 Year Old Virgin from Netflix at night.

For the rest of the weekend, I got my federal taxes done. I'm getting a little bit of money back, so I'm happy.

Waitin' For My Grub

2006-03-10T14:27:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting here at work hanging out for a bit before meeting the Boy for a 7PM dinner at Eleven Madison Park. I've been excited about this all week since it's the first time since I've moved here that we're doing one of the fine dining experiences that we used to do every time I came to visit. Unfortunately, I'm going straight from work, so I won't be able to dress up as much as I'd like to, and I still have a bit of a sneezy, runny nose cold. Hopefully afterwards, we'll be able to waddle ourselves over to the Russian Vodka Room to have a drink with some of the Boy's friends. We'll see. The Boy's a total food connoisseur and recently compiled quite an ambitious fine dining plan for the rest of the year. He posted the list of restaurants on the fridge as a reminder. Just one of the benefits of dating a guy who really knows how to eat! Can't wait for dessert!

Out of Town Friend

2006-03-07T20:28:00.000-08:00

On Monday night, I met up with a couple of grad school friends, one of which flew in from LA on Sunday night to work in New York for the rest of the week. The night started out a bit later than planned, as I got stuck on a relatively demanding project at work which kept me about an hour later than usual. We all met up at the Mercer Hotel in Soho for a drink at the bar before heading off to dinner. My friend wanted to check out Spice Market, and snagged a last minute reservation at 9PM. After chatting and catching up with what everyone was up to for a bit, we took a short cab ride over to Spice Market.

The decor of the restaurant was nice - dimly lit with a very Southeast Asian jungle-like feel to it. We started out with cocktails at the bar while we waited for our table to be ready. Dinner at the Spice Market was family style, so we ordered about five small plates and a bottle of wine to share between the three of us. The food was nicely presented and very tasty! Although both of my friends thought that the crab sesame balls were overdone and maybe even slightly burnt, I really liked it. We ate and talked for a long time, and when dinner was over, we ordered dessert, coffee and an after dinner drink to hang out and talk some more. We left the restaurant in separate cabs at around midnight. Although I can't say that I miss grad school, I definitely miss hanging out with all of the cool people that I met there.

The Real Winter Weather

2006-03-07T19:52:00.000-08:00

It was freezing last week! It was the coldest it's been since I moved out here. Last Friday after work I met the Boy and his friend at the Wasabi Lobby in the Upper East Side. I didn't know I was going out to dinner until I got back to the apartment, and the Boy called me and told me to meet him at the restaurant. It was a short walk from the apartment, but between the apartment and the restaurant, my ears froze over to the point where I couldn't feel my hands tucking my hair behind my ears. The sushi there was a fusion creation and tasted pretty good if you were in the mood to eat something pretty, but not authentically Japanese. I was satisfied, as I felt the beginnings of a nasty cold brewing and was really not in the mood for some serious raw stuff.

It warmed up a bit on Saturday when I headed down to Chinatown to have dimsum with my friend and her visiting family. I took the 4,5 express train and got off at the Brooklyn Bridge-City Hall exit which was supposed to be a short walk over to East Broadway. I couldn't find my way out of the city hall square/circle area and ended up walking about aimlessly until I found a security guard's booth and asked for directions. Initially, the security guard scolded me for not wearing a warm hat or beanie, but cut the lecture short after he noticed that my jacket had a furry hood on it. He then gave me very clear, easy directions before yelling at me to put my hood on. I thought it was very nice and grandfatherly of him to care, so I smiled and put my hood up as I walked away, but tossed it off the second I was out of the security guard's sight. The hood on that jacket makes me look and feel like a South Park character.

The dimsum place, DimSum Go Go, was surprisingly good. It wasn't a typical dimsum house (no carts being circled around by pissed off Chinese ladies) and had a lot of different, creative, delicious dumplings. I met my friend's sister, brother in law and their two adorable munchkins for the first time, and then later, her parents when they finally managed to make it into the city after their train got delayed. So, dimsum was pretty good.

I spent the rest of the weekend lounging around in my warm apartment, watching Wedding Crashers and cooking a nice dinner with the Boy.

Blizzard of 2006

2006-02-25T10:23:00.000-08:00

Probable Answers to Some Frequently Asked Questions for My New Dentist

2006-02-21T11:16:00.000-08:00

Q: Is it really true that you do a painless cleaning?
A: Yes, if I don't do too much work on your teeth, there's not a whole lot of pain I can cause.

Q: Do I have to endure a significant amount of chit chat and stupid jokes?
A: How else am I supposed to distract you into thinking that I've actually done something?

Q: Should I be a little concerned when you become audibly involved in figuring out my insurance (since no one on your staff was able to do it) and then loudly yell out "Done and done" to signify that you've finally gotten it?
A: Don't worry-everything's fine. Can I interest you in a stock purchase later on?

Q: What if nobody notices that I have a slightly receding gum line that requires special care during cleaning? It's been the first thing that all of my other dentists have noticed.
A: Hey, we're not mind readers here. If you know something that we don't, you're going to have to speak up!

I had my first dental cleaning in New York today. I got the recommendation off the website of my insurance that turned out not to be my real dental insurance. At first, I was a bit skeptical of ever coming back since his modus operandi was completely different from all my other dentists. But after the cleaning was done, the dentist told me that I had the most beautiful, cavity-free teeth he'd ever seen and that I owed absolutely nothing for the visit. Ahh, good, honest dentists are hard to find. I have my next appointment in six months.

Valentine's Day Shopping

2006-02-12T10:00:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day is coming up again, and the only day I'd have to shop was Saturday before the big blizzard hit. I had a good idea of what I wanted to get for the Boy and spent time researching different designs on the internet, but of course the Boy ruined my surprise as usual and told me what he'd really really like for Valentine's Day. I'll have to save the idea for another occasion. The Boy wanted an 8" stainless steel pan with copper plating on the bottom and an 8" chef's knife by Global. Why? Because the Boy's an amateur cook and noticed a few days earlier that every cook at Jean Georges uses two basic items: the chef's knife and stainless steel pan with copper bottom.

So, off I went to Macy's to pick up the Boy's *surprise* gift while he shopped around for my gift. At least he won't know what the card looks like. It wasn't hard finding stainless steel pans, but the copper plating on the bottom sent me searching through every pan in Macy's inventory before finally finding one.

The upside of this is that the Boy cooked me a really nice steak dinner with sauteed mushrooms in his new pan later that night. Mmm!

Putting Things into Perspective

2006-02-07T15:12:00.000-08:00

The Weather:

All bundled up with jacket, scarf and gloves outside.

Coworker: It's a really nice, warm day today, isn't it? I can't believe how warm this winter has been.

Me: Uh-huh.

Running an errand later that day without jacket, scarf and gloves (stupid me).

Me: Ahhaha! It's cold! It's cold! I wanna go home!

Apartment Hunting:

Me: Wow! This is a really nice place. Look how much space it has!

Broker: Like it? It's $2000/month.

Me: What?! You expect someone to pay $2000 for this piece of $#^%?!

Sniffle, sniffle

2006-01-30T09:41:00.000-08:00

I've got a bad cold today, and decided not to go to work. Although my nose is running, I'm sneezing, my eyes are watery and I'm coughing, I feel like a lazy blob just sitting around at home doing nothing but sleeping and watching TV. Every once in a while, I'll wake up from a nap and feel that I'm all better and ready to go to work, but within a few minutes, a sneezing/coughing fit will hit me, and I'll want to fall back asleep.

On a happier note, an old college friend sent around a mass e-mail to wish people a Happy Chinese New Year. I hadn't heard from him in eons, and e-mailed him to see how he is doing. Turns out, he's living in NYC on the Upper West Side right across the park from me! With that, I'd officially doubled my pool of friends in New York.

Catamount

2006-01-28T18:14:00.000-08:00

I've just gotten back from skiing at Catamount in the Catskills. Today was a really warm day for skiing. The sun was out, the air was calm, and it was so warm, that we barely needed to wear a jacket even. Unfortunately, this didn't equate to ideal snow conditions. The slopes were really icy. The Boy and his friend both brought their own snowboards, and I rented skis again. I might decide to buy my own skis for next season. The skis I rented at Catamount were the crappiest skis I've ever used. The blades were so cheap and dull that they wouldn't catch anything.

Although the Boy and his friend weren't too fond of the slopes here, I really liked them. It's true that there weren't a whole lot of options, and we skied/snowboarded down the same slopes over and over, but I thought they were fun slopes. We went down intermediate slopes the entire time. What I like about these slopes is that they are generally wide and don't have huge stretches of straight down drops. There's a lot of twisting and turning, and some short drops followed by flatter (sometimes bumpy) trails. I thought it was easier to control myself and my speed with these kinds of trails. Also, when I did gain a lot of speed, I was more comfortable with it, knowing that the drop would soon level off. This allowed me to try to develop/improve on my skiing techniques, rather than use my usual snow-plow stance the entire way down for fear of gaining too much speed, leading to a complete and utter loss of control. One of these days, I'd like to make a graceful, controlled descent down the mountain with my skis constantly parallell to eachother, rather than look like a scared, clumsy little girl whose skis are constantly running into eachother.

Another Bachelor Night

2006-01-27T17:48:00.000-08:00

Last Monday, my friend came over for another episode of the Bachelor. After watching this two hour special, I remembered why we swore off of this show before. It's retarded! It's so obvious who the Bachelor will pick-the prettiest girl, provided that she isn't such a bitch that the other girls rip her apart. This round of the Bachelor has a likeable, absolutely knockout brunette competing among x other girls. The Bachelor is soooo in love with her that many times, it seems like he's competing for her attention. In the last episode, when the Bachelor is still around all of the other girls (who might as well not even be there), he has a birthday cake ordered for his beloved brunette and pulls her into a private room to celebrate. No matter what she does or says, the Bachelor hangs off of her every word, while the other girls are just one slip-up away from being knocked off the show. I'm not sure if it's the editing, but you don't see too much of either the Bachelor's or brunette's personalities. But, I'll still watch the show...for my friend, of course.

Skiing at Camelback

2006-01-19T16:52:00.000-08:00

After a weekend of incredibly crappy weather, MLK day was bright, sunny and calm. The Boy and I woke up early and gave the ski thing another shot. The car ride from Manhattan to Camelback was smooth sailing. The temperature was still pretty cold, but we had a great time! The Boy and I started off on the easy/intermediate slopes to warm up. He was using his brand new snowboard, and I rented a pair of skis. After getting comfortable on the easy/intermediate slopes, we decided to try a black diamond. The Asp (name of run) was a pretty icy straight down drop. The Boy tumbled down the entire mountain. After seeing most of my fellow skiiers and snowboarders tumble down, too, I decided to just sit down in the snow and take a ride down the mountain the safer way. We stayed off of the black diamonds after that and did several fun runs on the intermediate slopes before going home. Finally, a nice end to an otherwise crappy weekend!

Ruined Weekend Plans

2006-01-16T16:28:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, my plans kept getting ruined by the weather. Saturday was pretty crappy. It poured heavily most of the day. The Boy and I had reservations that night for Cafe Boulud at 8PM. We got all dressed and tried to catch a cab to the restaurant. All of the cabs were either carrying people or off duty, so after trying unsuccessfully to hail many cabs and getting soaked in the rain (umbrellas were somewhat useless), we gave up and went to a "gourmet" Chinese restaurant nearby instead. I was in a pretty pissy mood for the rest of the night.

Sunday was extremely windy. The Boy and I woke up really early to go skiing. When we got to his car parked a couple of streets away, all of the doors were frozen shut. He had to carefully pry the front door open so as not to break the handle. Then I climbed into the car and had to push all of the doors open from the inside. They were frozen pretty tight. Several bodyslams later, I managed to help open the remaining doors. I left the Boy to scrape all of the snow off of the car.

It was so cold and windy that we couldn't defrost the windows. It was hard for the Boy to see, but we weren't going to have the weather ruin our plans again. About halfway to the ski resort, we stopped at a local WalMart to buy some window washing fluid with antifreeze. The 40-50 mph winds were so strong that I couldn't even get the hood of my jacket to stay on. It kept blowing off. We weren't even walking straight anymore. I looked up at the sky and the birds were flying crookedly and gaining no ground. They looked like little airplanes in testing chambers, flapping their wings wildly, but going nowhere. The winds continued to pick up until we were blown down to the ground. At that point, we decided that if we couldn't stay up on our two feet on the ground, there probably wasn't a good chance of us staying up on skis and snowboards, so we turned back and went home.

Another weekend day ruined!

Return of Bachelor Nights!

2006-01-11T16:24:00.000-08:00

When I was living in LA, a graduate school classmate got me hooked on watching the Bachelor as comic stress relief from our ultra-competitive daily studies. When we became roommates a year later, we turned the Bachelor into a roommate bonding event where we would laugh at and criticize everyone on the show over wine and cheese. After watching enough episodes to notice a pattern of repetition and predictability in all of the contestant's cheesy sayings and confessions (it doesn't take too many episodes to figure this out), we turned the show into a fun, interactive, weekley drinking game.

After watching the last Bachelor with Jen Scheft, it was so horrible that we swore off of watching the show ever again. But we're both in NY now and couldn't resist reinstating a bit of LA nostalgia. Thus, we've returned for another round of getting drunk off of the Bachelor.

Before the show started, we went out for sushi at a place called Ichiro in the Upper East side. My friend was craving a place that mixes different ingredients together into creative rolls, which is exactly what Ichiro does. It's not the most authentic way to eat sushi, but the fish is fresh, and the rolls are tasty and fun to eat.

After dinner, we went back to the apartment armed with leftover sushi and the hefty remains of a bottle of plum wine. The first episode was already drama packed. My friend and I assessed each girl that walked out (too old, too young, too ditzy, cute, gorgeous, likeable, etc.). High drama ensued after the bachelor chose who to keep and who to drop. One of the girls that got dropped threw a huge tantrum, screaming about how her eggs were going to rot and questioning the bachelor on his motives (which, in her mind, should have been to chose a girl solely for reproductive purposes)!

The Bachelor to us is what football is to guys-an opportunity to get drunk with friends, shout, laugh and watch a bunch of crazy people run around on TV.

Chelsea Market, MOMA and Dinner

2006-01-08T15:28:00.000-08:00

The Boy unexpectedly dragged me out of bed at 9:30AM on Saturday morning. Normally, I like to sleep in until 11AM, so I was quite cranky. As a consolation, he made me a very delectable scallion-tortilla omelet for breakfast.

Next, we were off to explore the Chelsea Market (featured on Emeril) out in the Chelsea area. The place kept us entertained for a couple of hours. I sampled brownies and cupcakes from the various bakeries, green tea gelato from a gelato store, corn chowder from a soup place and other breads and prepared foods.

After our appetites were completely ruined for lunch, we walked around to get a feel for the area before hopping on the subway to check out MOMA on the East Side where I had my very first real star sighting. I was on the top floor checking out the photography ( I think) when the Boy came running over to me and asked if I'd seen Uma yet. Huh? Uma Thurman's on display? The Boy then grabbed my arm and led me over to the stairs to get a second opinion on whether or not it was really her. The huge crowd full of gawkers surrounding her (which I now became a part of) should have tipped him off. Yep, it was her - tall, blonde, and talking on her cell phone as she made her way down the escalator. Aside from seeing Uma Thurman, the coolest exhibit was an animated Toy Story exhibit where the artist put a bunch of still Toy Story characters on a wheel in various positions. Then the lights turned off, and the wheel would spin around until you could see a cartoon of character movements under a strobe light. It was such a simple concept, but it had everyone just completely mesmorized.

By now, I was getting very sleepy, so we went home and took a nap before meeting the Boy's friend for dinner in the West Village at an Italian restaurant called Bellavitae. We'd actually tried first to get into the Spotted Pig, a hot new restaurant in the Meatpacking district, but they don't take reservations, and the wait at 7:30PM was at least 2.5 hours. Anticipating that this might occur, the Boy was smart and made an 8:15PM reservation at Bellavitae. The food was great and the prices reasonable. There were four of us, and we split about seven appetizers (small portions), each ordered an entree and shared three bottles of red wine. We were at the restaurant for hours before the Boy and I stumbled back home.

Happy New Year!

2006-01-01T19:00:00.000-08:00

Happy 2006! Yesterday, I got back into New York in time to ring in the New Year. The Boy cooked me a nice dinner of lamb chops and mashed cauliflower, accompanied by glasses of Asti Spumante. Normally, I don't like the taste of lamb, but the Boy managed to season and bake it so that the flavor was irresistable. Afterwards, we walked about 15 blocks, checking out the bar scene and what everyone else was doing, as we made our way over to Payard Bistro for dessert. We got there just a bit too late. They had just wrapped up their dinner/coffee/dessert hours and were now beginning the transformation into a New Year's club. So, we walked another 15 blocks back, and the Boy made a giant cookie topped with ice cream for me instead. We turned on the TV and watched Carson Daly host the yearly Times Square event (happy that we weren't standing out there in the blistering cold) until the ball dropped and the new year was here.

Attack of the Big, Bad SUVs

2005-12-31T18:08:00.000-08:00

A grad school friend from the East Coast once commented on So Cal's relatively large population of SUV owners despite the exceedingly high price of gasoline. Having grown up and lived in So Cal all my life, I didn't know what he was talking about...until I came back for a visit from NY after six months.

They were everywhere, mean and huge! During my weeklong stay in PV, I drove the same, compact Saturn Ion that I owned before I moved out to NY. In the land of the 405 where size matters, my car was no match against the big, bad SUVs when changing lanes or letting cars in. I made the mistake of signalling to get into a relatively empty left lane a few days ago, and out of nowhere an SUV three times my size came charging full speed ahead from a mile away. I debated for a split second whether I should go in even though the monsterous thing was ignoring my signals. There was enough room for it to slam on the brakes and stop without hitting me, but I decided against it. I was too small to have any clout on this freeway. The SUV could have easily crushed me. It slowed down for traffic as I merged in behind it. Brilliant! Now the giant was obstructing my view.

This happened repeatedly all week long. I guess I just never noticed it before.

Hectic Day

2005-12-28T00:54:00.000-08:00

I woke up in the late morning, had a quick lunch at home with my parents and then set off on the road to visit my grandmother in Beverly Hills. She is in a rehab center after having some surgeries on her leg over the past couple of months. Traffic was horrendous! The 405N was even more of a parking lot than usual. It took me nearly 2 hours to get out to Beverly Hills, whereas on a normal day, I'd be out there in an hour. Turns out that a dead body was found on the Robertson exit of the 10E, causing all eastbound lanes to be shut off. Creepy!

My grandmother seemed to be doing well physically, although she complained about her health most of the time I was there. She was happy to see me and wanted to know how things were going in New York. I stayed to chat with her for a while until she told me that it was getting dark, and I'd better head out. It was only 3:30PM, and the sun was shining brightly outside, but I left to give her some time to rest before dinner.

Next, I drove out to Santa Monica to rollerblade with a friend on the Pier. It was a little windy, but the beach looked so nice and pure as we rollerbladed on the strand. We rollerbladed until it got dark and then had dinner at the Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. where we caught up on eachother's lives.

Christmas Celebrations

2005-12-26T23:32:00.000-08:00

Christmas Eve was at my aunt's house as usual. My aunts, uncles, cousins, grandfather, parents and aunt's friend gathered in Culver City. There was turkey, ham, pasta salad, roasted potatoes, steamed veggies and Chinese sticky rice for dinner. My cousins and I caught up with eachother's lives over dinner. One had just moved back from Syracuse with her fiancee after being out there for about three years. Another was still travelling the world as a computer specialist for the Navy, and another was working for a consulting firm after graduating college last June. For dessert there was a huge custard fruit tart, Krispy Kreme donuts, and festive Christmas cookies to be accompanied with either coffee, tea, various liquers on the rocks or black muscat wine.

After dessert, everyone opened their presents. I got a bunch of bath gels, lotions, and a greeting cards set from my relatives. My parents got me a cool, new digital camera.

The next day, I went to the Boy's house to watch his little nieces and nephew open their gifts from us. The two three year olds tore through their gifts, squealing with excitement the whole time. The one year old sort of poked around at hers and slowly ripped away pieces of wrapping, smiling each time she ripped a portion away. For the rest of the time, the kids played with their new toys and bickered amongst eachother about who got the better toys.

Hangin' Out on the Coast

2005-12-24T01:37:00.000-08:00

I woke up late today at around 11AM. My parents suggested that we go to a Japanese restaurant that has outdoor seating overlooking the coast on PV Drive West. I was shocked. My parents always ate at the same few Chinese restaurants in Torrance. Not only were they trying restaurants in a new area, but they were even venturing out into a different type of cuisine. I gladly took them up on this offer and decided to treat. It was a nice change to eat outside with an ocean view surrouding us. We all ordered bento boxes and shared edamame and an appetizer.

Afterwards, we drove around PV Drive West and looked at the magnificent million + dollar cliffside homes. They were all very elegant, new and expensive looking. We stopped at a few lookout points to admire the view even though it was a bit foggy and visibility was limited. Then we drove toward the landslide area to see if the Wayfarer's chapel was open for visitors. I didn' t think we'd be able to get in. Every time I'd come to see the glass chapel before, it was either closed or had a ceremony going on so that I could never go in. This time, though, it was open for visitors. I didn't even know that visitors were ever allowed in. I was so excited! I'd always wanted to see it closer up from the inside. It was gorgeous! The entire thing was made of glass and supported by wood beams. It was decorated with flowers and vines. I took pictures of it at many different angles.

I ran a few errands after this, and then met up with the Boy for dinner and to go to the beach at Hermosa. It was nice to walk around Hermosa, but the fog had really rolled in by now so that we couldn't even see the ocean from the strand, so we went back to his parent's house and watched When Harry Met Sally. I'd never seen the movie before and really liked it.

Back to LA

2005-12-23T12:16:00.000-08:00

I'm in LA again for about a week visiting family and friends for the holidays. I woke up at 5:45AM yesterday to catch a 9:00AM flight. The Boy went with me. Since the strike was still going on at the time, two cabs passed us by when we asked them to take us to JFK. I guess they were worried that they wouldn't be able to get back into the city once they left. Our backup plan was to take a cab to Grand Central Station and then take the airport bus to JFK, but we were able to bribe the next cabbie to take us straight there.

At 6AM, there was pretty much no traffic, so we had about two hours to kill by the time we got to the airport. I slept the entire time, and when we got on the plane, I only woke up for the two meals that United served. By the time the plane landed in LA, I was well rested and overfed.

The weather was warm when I stepped out of the airport. I was totally overdressed with three layers of clothing on. The Boy's mom picked us up, and my parents picked me up at the Boy's house.

My parents were hungry for lunch since it was about 1:30PM, so I took them out to our usual Chinese restaurant but didn't eat much since I had no appetite.

After lunch, we shopped around a bit and then went home to take a nice walk around the block. I asked my mom if she noticed that I got a new pair of glasses, hoping that she'd like the trendier look. She suggested I get LASIK.

Later that night, the Boy and I met up to do some Christmas shopping for his nieces and nephew. He found out what his sister got for the kids and was determined to outdo her. We spent hours picking out two toys for each child. It's always fun shopping for kids since I run across the types of toys that I would have loved to get as a child. In pre-school and kindergarten, He-man and Voltron were my favorites. I watched the cartoons religiously and then re-enacted the scenes with a blanket tied around my neck for a cape and a stick for a sword. Most likely, my older, cooler boy cousin got me hooked on this. For Christmas, I wanted the castle set, complete with He-Man, BattleCat and Skeletor action figures. Neither my mom nor my relatives would get me this, though. These toys weren't for girls. I eventually got my wish when She-Ra (He-Man's sister) was introduced, and my mom bought me the She-Ra action figure. A couple of years later when I no longer played with my boy cousin, I was hooked on Rainbow Brite, Strawberry Shortcake and My Little Ponies. For the Boy's nieces, I picked out a My Little Pony Amusement Park playset, the My Little Pony version of Memory, and a Cinderella MegaBlocks pumpkin/castle set. The Boy picked out his nephew's toys. It was 11PM by now, and 2AM on the East Coast, so we both went home and crashed.

Strike's On

2005-12-20T05:50:00.000-08:00

The MTA decided to strike early this morning, so I'm stuck working at home. None of the subways or buses are working, and even though I live in the city, getting to work is not convenient. I don't own a bike, and even if I did, I don't think I'd feel comfortable riding it to work with a laptop and other things strapped across by back since it's been eons since I've ridden a bike. It would probably take me hours to walk to work. If I wanted to take a cab, I would be stuck in traffic forever sitting with three random strangers, and would likely be dropped off in whatever order my stop was relative to everyone else's. But I'm lucky to be able to work from home. Some people are forced to find alternate forms to transportation.

The Boy hitched a ride with a coworker who lives across the street from him. He'll have to follow his coworker back later tonight also. This carpool arrangement is a mutually beneficial thing. The Boy won't be able to get back home without hitching a ride with his coworker, and his coworker won't be able to drive into the city past 96th street without 3 other passengers.

Working from home will be a bit of a pain without being able to interact face to face with my coworkers, but I'll still be working. Somehow, when I told the Boy that I'd be working from home, it translated into "the girl's day off." So, he's given me his dry cleaning to take care of and would like a nice dinner with dessert prepared when he gets back. Jackass... Gotta go now. I've got a lot to do.

Brrr!

2005-12-14T14:58:00.000-08:00

It's 17 degrees outside today. 17 degrees! I'm pretty sure that I've never been in 17 degree weather. It's so cold outside that it hurts to breathe. It's colder outside than it is inside my freezer, which, by the way, sucks. It doesn't freeze anything. I'm tired of eating slightly melted ice cream. I'm seriously considering placing the ice cream out on the balcony now.

Les Halles, Chinatown and Cookies

2005-12-13T15:03:00.000-08:00

Highlights of my last weekend:

Les Halles: It had been a while since the Boy and I went out to dinner alone, so he decided to
take me out to Anthony Bourdain's French bistro last Saturday. The place was quite crowded, so it was a good thing that the Boy made reservations. We started out with the classic French onion soup, which was delicious, but heavy with all of the cheese in it. It was a good thing we decided to share it, otherwise it would have completely ruined our appetites for anything else. My main was the steak frites, and the boy ordered a cassoulet which was really flavorful. Mmm! Afterwards, we walked several blocks to walk off our heavy dinner. It was a fun night out and reminded me of when I used to fly back and forth to visit.

Chinatown: The Boy and I did a Chinatown run for groceries since the fridge was empty and we were both craving Asian fruits and veggies. We did this in a record breaking hour and a half since it was cold out.

Cookies: After my last successful baking experience, I decided to try a new chocolatey cookie recipe. It was a bust. I ended up with my usual cake and crumbs disaster. Thankfully, though, the voice of my mom reminded me to only try a fraction of the recipe.

Chibitini

2005-12-10T15:13:00.000-08:00

Chibitini is a small Japanese restaurant just a few twists and turns outside of the F train along the streets of the Lower East Side. I met my friend here for dinner last Thursday night. The wind was chilly that night, and there was supposed to be a snow storm coming in really late. This must have been the restaurant's excuse for having almost an empty house.

The place was cute and warm, though. My friend and I started out with a couple of drinks. She ordered the house specialty, aka "the Chibitini", and I ordered a Sake Royal, a combination of sparkling sake and Chambord. My drink was good, but I liked her drink better. It had a strong plum wine taste to it and was sweet. Later, I tried to order a Chibitini, and they ran out. Grrr! How do you run out of a drink when there's no one else in the restaurant? I ordered a plum wine instead.

Instead of ordering our own bento boxes, we decided to order a bunch of small plates, including salmon hand rolls (mmm!), a plate full of "Japanese delicacies" (a sampler of Japanese style small bites), duck ginger dumplings and shrimp dumplings. We talked, ate slowly and had a good time.

About halfway through our meal, something started stroking my leg.

My thought bubble: She must be shifting her legs. For a place that's not too crowded, these tables don't have a whole lot of leg room. I'll move...Nope, still stroking. That's strange. Whatever, just keep eating and moving your legs away.

My Friend's thought bubble: The hell's going on under there? Why is she stroking my legs?!

My friend peeked under the table and found Chibi, the restaurant's pitbull/mascot, rubbing it's cute, but chubby self across both our legs as he criss crossed around under the table.

We ended the night with a dessert of apple and chocolate dumplings with grapefruit sorbet. Mmm!

It's Freezing Out Here!

2005-12-07T15:06:00.000-08:00

It's cold now. Really cold. It snowed for the first time since I've been out here last Saturday night. When I woke up on Sunday morning and looked out the window, the ledge was covered in powdery white snow. When I walked outside, I saw cars covered in snow and a bit of ice and snow on the ground. Everyone told me that I would love my first winter here since it's different to live in a place where there's snow outside, and then every year after that I would hate it because it's freezing cold. Looks like things are going that way. Right now the snow and ice are a novelty, so it's fun.

It's still freezing, though. When I walk out on a windy day and it's cold, I feel like my eyes and the rest of my face will freeze over if I don't get inside soon. I have to bundle up with a scarf, coat and gloves everywhere I go, and then when I get inside somewhere, the heat's on so high that I have to strip it all off.

Today on the subway, a thread on my jacket got caught around the button of another passenger. We had no idea until he had to move his arm and my elbow went with it. I tried to unwind it, but I must have been turning the thread the wrong way, because it wasn't coming apart. The guy was pretty nice and patient about it, but then again it was my jacket that was falling apart the more I tried to untangle the thread. After twisting it a few other ways, I managed to untangle our jackets before his stop.

It supposed to snow more this week. Hopefully the mountains will get enough of it so that I can go skiing this weekend!

Potluck Saturday

2005-11-30T15:59:00.000-08:00

So, what did we do with the 11 pounds of turkey leftover from Thanksgiving? I woke up early on Saturday morning (well, early for my weekend standards) and made a Cantonese rice porridge with the Boy's leftover homemade turkey broth and probably a pound of turkey meat. I grew up eating Cantonese style rice porridge which is rich in flavor and sort of like a hearty soup. The first time I had the rice porridge that Taiwanese and Mandarin-speaking people eat, I had a hard time getting it all down. It was so plain! But I wasn't aware that you were supposed to eat it with a lot of salty side dishes, so it's not really meant to be a meal in itself, but more like a runny rice accompaniment. The Boy never had Cantonese style rice porridge and refused to believe that it could taste better than the type he was used to. I was out to prove that my version was tastier, and he loved it!

Unfortunately, my plan sort of backfired on me. Taiwanese rice porridge is really easy to make and takes very little time. Cantonese rice porridge takes more time and more work. I may have switched the Boy over to my side, but I created much more work for myself in the process.

Later that evening, we went to a friend's gourmet potluck in Brooklyn. The Boy made little turkey salad sandwiches, and I made a marinated veggie dish. There was a lot of food: duck with fig sauce, miso marinated black cod, Chinese sticky rice, a pasta salad and lots of delicious homemade desserts. Mmmm!

Ice Skating in Bryant Park

2005-11-27T15:37:00.000-08:00

I also took the day after Thanksgiving off to relax ( I have a bunch of unused vacation time that will expire if I don't take it). While everyone was either at work or battling the crazy shopping crowds, I ran a bunch of errands that would have otherwise been difficult to run after work. The prescription on my glasses was off, but I never had time to drop by the optometrist's office to fix them. He was pretty pissed off that I waited 3 1/2 months to fix them and made it known.

Later in the afternoon, I met the Boy at Grand Central where we walked over to Bryant Park and went ice skating in the outdoor rink. It was the perfect day to go since the weather wasn't that bad ( it was much warmer than the couple of days before), and there was a craft fair going on in the area.

Thanksgiving 2005

2005-11-25T15:07:00.000-08:00

The day before Thanksgiving was freezing! I took a day off of work and went shopping with a friend in Union Square and Soho. I needed many pairs of new boots. I was wearing the same pair that I had scuffed up pretty badly after just wearing them around the city for two months. They looked like I had been wearing them for years, and I was embarrassed to have them on all the time, but had no other boots to wear. I also needed some snow/ice boots so that I won't slip walking around when it starts to snow. I ended up buying two pairs of cute boots, but neither of them were snow boots. When my friend and I were in Soho, the wind was blowing so fiercely and freezing cold that I could barely keep my eyes open. Weather like this makes you never want to be outside. We ended up relaxing for the rest of the day in a coffee shop where it was warm and the wind wasn't constantly threatening to blow you away.

On the next day, the Boy and I caught some of the Macy's Thanksgiving parade on TV. We were planning on seeing it outside, but it was slated to snow (which it didn't) and freezing outside (which it was). The Boy spent the rest of the day making a 13 pound turkey while I made the side dishes: mashed sweet potatoes with brown sugar, and broccoli and carrots with toasted almonds. The turkey and sweet potatoes turned out great, and the gravy was even better! For dessert, we had ginger molasses cookies which I made the day before. This was the first batch of cookies that I have made that's ever turned out tasting like cookies. Among my friends and family, I'm known to make some of the worst cookies you could ever taste. My mom used to cringe every time I decided to try a new cookie recipe. I was so excited that I didn't end up with my usual panful of salty bread-like crumbs, that I didn't really care that the taste was a little unusual. The recipe, which I got from a cooking magazine, didn't get great ratings online. But at least the texture and color turned out great.

It's Getting a Little Chilly Out Here

2005-11-22T13:10:00.000-08:00

The weather's freezing out here now! The average temperature during the day is in the 30s and 40s, yet somehow I'm able to handle the cold out here better than in LA where the daytime temperature rarely ever drops below 60 and usually hovers in the 65-70 range during this time.

(Aside: For my non-SoCal friends, sorry to burst your bubble. It's not 85-90 and sunny year round in LA, and LA has seen rain before...plenty of times! A coworker of mine told me he was going to visit LA for a week during Christmas because he wanted to go somewhere with tropical weather. He was planning on stripping down at the beach and coming back to NY with a golden tan. I quickly brought him back to reality, and he didn't believe me until his cousin in LA confirmed that the only tan he could get in LA during Christmas would be the sunless kind.)

The East Coast is better equipped for cold weather. The heat here works a little too well. I don't have control over the heat in my apt. Sometimes it gets so hot and stuffy inside that I have to open a window to balance it out. I've even slept with the window open a couple of nights after the heat was turned on so high that I was sweating. When my old roommate and I turned the heat on in LA, it was so weak that sometimes I would stick my feet up on the furnace to see if it was still working.

The winter clothes here are also warmer. It's hard to find a heavy coat in LA, and scarves aren't all that commonly used. Here, all of the coats are heavy and sold everywhere. When the Boy's cousins and their kids visited a few weeks ago, they had to buy warm clothes out here because they couldn't find any in LA.

Last Saturday, I waited an entire hour and a half in 30 something degree weather to get tickets to see a Broadway show. It was cold, but amazingly bearable. I got tickets to see "Fiddler on the Roof," which turned out to be a great musical. The Boy and I really liked it.

Oh Taisho!

2005-11-16T09:17:00.000-08:00

Last Friday, the Boy and I met up with some of his friends/old coworkers for dinner at Oh Taisho! in the Lower East Side. One of his old coworkers brought his London client along to dinner. Oh Taisho! is a very authentic Japanese (small portions, tight space) teppanyaki place with great food.

The Boy did most of the ordering. We started off with a pitcher of Asahi, but soon ordered another. The guys at our table found their manhood being challenged after noticing that the table of skinny Asian chicks nearby were outdrinking us. They had three to four pitchers of beer for five girls and only one guy, while our table had one pitcher of beer for four guys and two girls. But the other girl and I didn't drink beer. I ordered plum wine and she ordered a cocktail.

The Boy and I were the only Asians in our group, so everyone else was either impressed or completely grossed out by the Boy's selections. One of his choices was an assorted platter of skewers, including chicken, organs, fish balls (meat balls made with fish), chicken skins and smelt fish. The smelt look like anchovies on a stick, and you're meant to eat the whole thing. Unfortunately, this dish came first and grossed the other girl out so much that she refused to eat for the rest of the night. It didn't help that the guys were poking fun at the situation:

Russian: Are you supposed to eat all of it-spine, head and all? Look! The spine's falling out as I bite into it.
Boy: Yes, it's good. Trust me.
Russian: Ok, seriously. You and the Girl are not just laughing inside, thinking "Look at these stupid white people! They are very entertaining nevertheless!"
Me: No, you're supposed to eat all of it.
Russian: Alright, but I'm not eating the head.
English: I'm not eating it either.
Boy: The head's the best part. You're missing out.
Russian (to Irish): Alright, I'll try it. Are you eating the head?
Irish: Of course, I never refuse head.
Other Girl: Ahhh! Stop it! That's gross! I can't eat anymore.

When the soft shell crab came, a similar dialogue erupted. Alright, so some things might seem a bit gross when you know what it is and you're not used to eating it, but everyone who was adventurous enough to try it usually liked it. The Irish and Other Girl came back from Scotland recently where they tried haggis which is a very nasty sounding concoction of sheep's organs, oatmeal, and blood among other things. Yuck! I don't understand how someone can eat this and then get completely grossed out by smelt on a stick or tiny crab legs.

After dinner, we headed over to Veniero's for dessert, but made a pit stop at the Coyote Ugly bar for a shot. None of us had ever been in there, but it was along the way, and we thought that the Boy's friend's client from London might be interested in seeing it. It was kind of a rough looking bar. When I walked in, I saw the largest bra collection ever hanging on the walls and poles all over the place. We all had a shot and were out of there immediately after.

The other girl was so grossed out at dinner that she couldn't even eat dessert at Veniero's. Everyone ordered coffee and cake/pie/cannolis while she sipped on a glass of water with lemon. Was dinner really that bad? Maybe I'm just used to eating that type of stuff. After dessert, we called it a night and went home.

The Effects of Space Deprivation

2005-11-15T10:38:00.000-08:00

Living Manhattan for prolonged periods of time makes you batty. You're constantly cramped in small spaces and having to fight crowds. Unless you're fortunate enough to have an unlimited supply of money or don't mind being deep in debt, your entire apartment is likely the size of a two car garage. Also, if you take public transportation, which most Manhattanites do, you'll likely ride in a subway car or bus smooshed up closer to the next person than you'd ever want to be. Seriously, I get closer to random subway/bus riders than I do my boyfriend on most days. If you grocery shop, the store isles will be so narrow that two carts trying to pass through will create a traffic jam. Although I'm very guilty of this, I get annoyed when someone decides to stop in the middle of the isle to look at store ads. No one can get through! The pet food isle really should be the designated place to do this.

This cramped culture hasn't completely obliterated all of my manners yet. I still say 'please' and 'thank you' when asking favors (e.g. 'Excuse me, please' instead of 'Move!'). But I have become more aggressive navigating through crowds and trying to secure a spot on the subway. I won't think twice about shoving the person in front of me to get into the subway car if I think it can be packed tighter to accomodate me. I'll also elbow my way through crowds if I'm in a hurry to get somewhere. I've learned that these are things you just have to do if you don't want to continually be shoved to the back of the crowd. I don't really take it personally when people do this to me also, and they do.

The pushing and shoving are understandable because there is no space, and people do have to get places. But the one thing that irks me is all other forms of rude subway behavior. I almost started laughing when I heard this conversation on the subway last night:

(Girl pushes guy in front of her so that she can get onto the subway)

Guy: No need to push. There's plenty of room.
Girl: I'm sorry.
Guy: There's lots of room here. You pushed me.
Girl: I said I was sorry.
Guy: Fine, just don't do it again.

(Girl is slightly annoyed that the guy is being such an ass about it and makes a face with her friend to vent)
(About two stops later when the girl's friend leaves...)

Guy (to girl who glances over at him): Do you have something to say to me?
Girl: No.
Guy: Stop glaring at me. You [expletive] pushed me. Dike!
Girl: You're dead on.
Guy: Stop [expletive] talking to me! Dike!
Girl: You're just angry that I don't like men.
Guy: Oh, shut the [expletive] up!

Brief silence...

Guy: Dike!

These strangers were seriously 30+ and having this argument.

And then this morning:

I'm waiting at the entrance of the L train as it empties out. I step into the train and find myself a seat. Then:

Girl standing above me (rolls her eyes at me and then speaks to her sitting friend): I could have taken it from her, and I should have!

Ugh! I really wasn't in the mood to endure her tantrum, especially when there were empty seats around.

Me (getting up to move to another seat): I'm sorry. Take it.

Girl: No, no. Really, I'm fine. It's fine. You don't need to get up.

Argh! Now you want to be polite? One of my pet peeves is when people whine and bitch about what they don't have and then refuse it when it's offered to them. The train moved for about 10 seconds before it hit the next stop after which the girl got out of my seat and exited.