Thursday, July 10, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
omg, how was your fourth?!
Mine was great, thanks for asking. I fell asleep while watching a movie with my favorite Canadians. Nils made naan and I was able to catch a couple tiny tiny fireworks across the river in New Jersey. Good times.
I'm currently sitting in my office at Teen Vogue, alternating between sipping my iced soy latte and furiously trying to rid my navy blue dress of Isabelle's fur. The latte was my reward for playing Dana's-unpaid-assitant yet again; this time it was an early wake up call, lugging bags into an SUV, and riding over to 14th and 9th to unload the bags where Dana is shooting today. The fur was my reward for tackling Isabelle, wrestling her to the ground, then gently shoving her kicking legs and fluffy butt into her cage.
Saturday was one of Robbie's birthday parties. Dana and I spent the majority of the time running a summer camp for nine year old boys (guitar hero, high school musical sing alongs, jumping off the couch onto a dog bed, etc.), smoking miniature stogis in the Hamptons, and doing shots of Patrone in the corner of the garage. The adults were confined to the porch, where they went through beer after beer and hot dog after hot dog. Highlights of the party include the longest baby carrot in the world, the baby carrot that looked like an eyebrow, a prehistoric moth, the reverend, Dad's multiple flip outs about "wiener buns," and Michael, the four year old love of my life.
Sunday was spent at Gram's house eating blueberry pie, playing Apples to Apples, and getting haircuts from Mom in the front yard. I went straight to work from Jersey, where the only escape from the lack of guests in the restaurant was taking room temperature shots with the bartender and trying not to make a face. Last night on the F train, the conductor was one of those crazies who abuses her microphone privileges to yell at New Yorkers for blocking the doors. And I'm pretty sure Corny Collins was driving the E train this morning.
Oh and also, I'm famous. Since my debut as an intern blogger, random girls have been friending me on facebook (I've been rejecting left and right.) Girls, girls, girls, while I admire your stalking skills, I simply do not have time to respond to your cries for help concerning your resume, interviews, and pairing navy and black. It's tough being a celebrity...now back to this bunny fur sitch.
I'm currently sitting in my office at Teen Vogue, alternating between sipping my iced soy latte and furiously trying to rid my navy blue dress of Isabelle's fur. The latte was my reward for playing Dana's-unpaid-assitant yet again; this time it was an early wake up call, lugging bags into an SUV, and riding over to 14th and 9th to unload the bags where Dana is shooting today. The fur was my reward for tackling Isabelle, wrestling her to the ground, then gently shoving her kicking legs and fluffy butt into her cage.
Saturday was one of Robbie's birthday parties. Dana and I spent the majority of the time running a summer camp for nine year old boys (guitar hero, high school musical sing alongs, jumping off the couch onto a dog bed, etc.), smoking miniature stogis in the Hamptons, and doing shots of Patrone in the corner of the garage. The adults were confined to the porch, where they went through beer after beer and hot dog after hot dog. Highlights of the party include the longest baby carrot in the world, the baby carrot that looked like an eyebrow, a prehistoric moth, the reverend, Dad's multiple flip outs about "wiener buns," and Michael, the four year old love of my life.
Sunday was spent at Gram's house eating blueberry pie, playing Apples to Apples, and getting haircuts from Mom in the front yard. I went straight to work from Jersey, where the only escape from the lack of guests in the restaurant was taking room temperature shots with the bartender and trying not to make a face. Last night on the F train, the conductor was one of those crazies who abuses her microphone privileges to yell at New Yorkers for blocking the doors. And I'm pretty sure Corny Collins was driving the E train this morning.
Oh and also, I'm famous. Since my debut as an intern blogger, random girls have been friending me on facebook (I've been rejecting left and right.) Girls, girls, girls, while I admire your stalking skills, I simply do not have time to respond to your cries for help concerning your resume, interviews, and pairing navy and black. It's tough being a celebrity...now back to this bunny fur sitch.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
I Heart New York
Upon turning on my phone as I exited the subway I was greeted by the following text from Dana: "pumpkin muffins?" which resulted in slight feelings of guilt (I had promised her pumpkins for her birthday) and slightly stronger feelings of intense desire to consume a pumpkin muffin myself. And so, I am sitting in 124 Wyckoff Avenue sweating profusely, attempting hydration, and munching on dried cherries (fresh from a Fresh Direct delivery truck) as pumpkin muffins slowly rise in my oven six by six.
I must admit that I am amazed at my ability (or inability) to regulate my body temperature. I woke up shivering in Dana's bed with the a/c blasting and Cuddles clinging to me for dear life (although perhaps it was the other way around.) A sweating Amanda later wove her way through a crowded West Village, clutching a Venti Iced Green Tea and dodging the gay pride parade crowd. Later in the afternoon, I was snuggled up in a furry cheetah print blanket watching SATC with Rachel and Allison (missing Charlotte, which goes without saying) as the thunder boomed and heavy downpours drenched men running through the streets dressed as fairies, gold wings outstretched and fluttering in the wind. After the third episode I soon found myself drenched and barefoot, struggling to flirt my way under police barriers, eyes set intently on a Tasti Dlite that, though only 20 feet away, took about 30 minutes to get to. And now, despite my lack of pants and the window fan turned on high blasting in my face, I return again to my usual sweaty state, counting down the hours until tomorrow when I get to sit in the highly air conditioned 4 Times Square for eight hours straight, sipping on a large styrofoam (::cringe::) cup of ice water (=bliss.)
So thank you New York, for causing my temperature to fluctuate almost as often as my mood. And thank you for causing a rat to run across my flip-flopped (model-esque) feet and get intertwined in my ankles the other night. And, of course, thanks for the baby cockroach that I just killed in my kitchen. I love you too.
Let's close with my to-do list:
1. Clean Belly's cage
2. Make Belly a dinner feast
3. Cuddle Belly and make her feel loved, hoping that it will counteract her recent gremlin-like behavior
4. Hang up the clothes that have collected on my floor over the past week
5. Wash my hair (it's about time...)
6. Buy honey
7. Moisturize
8. Convince my friends that a karaoke party is a good idea
9. Prepare mentally for Nils' arrival and subsequent shit show
10. Pick up laundry (laundry that was previously soaked in Isabelle's urine)
Okay I lied, I'm actually closing with this:
Veraldi, Deborah to Me (11pm)
Stop it. If you were here I’d tickle you
I must admit that I am amazed at my ability (or inability) to regulate my body temperature. I woke up shivering in Dana's bed with the a/c blasting and Cuddles clinging to me for dear life (although perhaps it was the other way around.) A sweating Amanda later wove her way through a crowded West Village, clutching a Venti Iced Green Tea and dodging the gay pride parade crowd. Later in the afternoon, I was snuggled up in a furry cheetah print blanket watching SATC with Rachel and Allison (missing Charlotte, which goes without saying) as the thunder boomed and heavy downpours drenched men running through the streets dressed as fairies, gold wings outstretched and fluttering in the wind. After the third episode I soon found myself drenched and barefoot, struggling to flirt my way under police barriers, eyes set intently on a Tasti Dlite that, though only 20 feet away, took about 30 minutes to get to. And now, despite my lack of pants and the window fan turned on high blasting in my face, I return again to my usual sweaty state, counting down the hours until tomorrow when I get to sit in the highly air conditioned 4 Times Square for eight hours straight, sipping on a large styrofoam (::cringe::) cup of ice water (=bliss.)
So thank you New York, for causing my temperature to fluctuate almost as often as my mood. And thank you for causing a rat to run across my flip-flopped (model-esque) feet and get intertwined in my ankles the other night. And, of course, thanks for the baby cockroach that I just killed in my kitchen. I love you too.
Let's close with my to-do list:
1. Clean Belly's cage
2. Make Belly a dinner feast
3. Cuddle Belly and make her feel loved, hoping that it will counteract her recent gremlin-like behavior
4. Hang up the clothes that have collected on my floor over the past week
5. Wash my hair (it's about time...)
6. Buy honey
7. Moisturize
8. Convince my friends that a karaoke party is a good idea
9. Prepare mentally for Nils' arrival and subsequent shit show
10. Pick up laundry (laundry that was previously soaked in Isabelle's urine)
Okay I lied, I'm actually closing with this:
Veraldi, Deborah to Me (11pm)
Stop it. If you were here I’d tickle you
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
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