Scene I, Act I

They say the first 30 days are the hardest. At least I think they do, whoever they may be…September 30th marked the first month of the rest of my life. I can’t believe it went by so fast but I am certainly going to use that speed as a judge of how fast I need to make things happen.

The freedom that came with the first week post-job followed by the panic of the second week has all balanced out at this point. I found a job waiting tables at a very nice restaurant in Union Square. The place is busy and should make for what is an ideal set up.

As it seems, 80% of the staff seem to be actors, writers, singers, dancers, and everything else in between. Apparently I’m not the only person in the city who decided waiting tables is a great gig to have while looking for your next gig.

The people are great and certainly full of personality. Everyone seems to be very supportive of each other, as it seems everyone is in the same battle just taking on a different enemy. I have already heard the words “auditions,” “castings,” and “rehearsal” spoken between servers, which make it all seem so real. I am here, I am in this world…

A month ago I was using terms like EOD (End of Day) and “Hard Stop” (The time a meeting MUST end). There were the slacks and buttons-downs I wore as a uniform every day that has now given way to my ninja (all black slacks and shirt) uniform. Changes are clear and are probably only going to continue to happen…

My goal for the first month was to find a job seeing as though this city seems to run quite efficiently on the American Dollar and I was running out of them quickly! Well, mission accomplished…Next on the agenda is find out just what it is that I want to do, want I want to be, and how I’m going to make that happen.

This month will be a big transition month. The transition from office days to dining room nights, from weekend warrior to weekend worker, and from climbing a ladder to paving a path…

Thanks for listening

Order Up!

I suited up, double checked that I had everything, did one final look in the mirror to make sure everything was in place and then it was off to work. I was officially a man in uniform. I mean I’m not one of New York’s Finest or even one of New York’s Bravest…I’m one of New York’s Ninja’s!

That’s right I was wearing, and will continue to wear the uniform at least three or four nights a week, all black from head to toe. To the untrained eye I may look like a manic depressive, but no, in fact the all black uniform is usually a staple at most trendy, hot, sexy, (insert more adjectives here) restaurants in this city.

The first day went well but seemed a bit overwhelming at times. That’s usually the case with a new job. There seems to only be two different speeds at first. There is completely ludicrous speed accompanied with so much information your brain starts to swell and then there is slug speed because you’re a bit bored due to the fact you don’t know how to do anything. I guess that as the hours start to pile up, the two speeds seem to meet somewhere in the middle.

I spent most of the night in the kitchen, working and learning about the food from the executive chef. It’s the first time I’ve been in a restaurant kitchen in over two years but they’re all the same. They’re fucking crazy! There are a million moving parts that all seem to work together so that every Tom, Dick, and Jane in the dinning room gest what they ordered in a timely manner.

Throughout the night I did cruise through the dinning room. It’s a beautiful place with great lighting, great fixtures and the attractive clientele to match it. I’d be lying if there wasn’t a little tug at the reality string while I glanced at each table. That was me enjoying my cocktail and petit filet just a few weeks ago while talking business. Not anymore my friends. And after a minute of reminding myself why I made the choice I did, I was right back in where I wanted to be (mentally speaking), after all I was still at work.

Thanks for listening

Diving Encouraged

There is not a clear cut straight path to follow anymore. I gave that up weeks ago. There are no nicely painted signs showing exactly how much farther to the next destination. Hell, I don’t even have those lights that will illuminate in the case of an emergency directly me to the closest exit! (Don’t forget the closest exit may be behind you)

I supposed that’s one of the biggest changes I’ve had to accept with the new the life choice I’ve made. Sure, there are thousands of books and probably just as many experts offering their advice and expert opinions of how to get where I want to go…It’s not like I’m following a junior leadership program set up by the top management, all the time knowing I’m on the right track for success. That luxury ended just as fast as my former company’s contribution to my 401(k).

I have to admit it’s equally as excited as it is scary. My time in the corporate world was great, I did really enjoy it, up until the very end…It always came natural to me. How to act, how to carry myself, what to say, what not to say, it was all pretty easy. I think the biggest factor behind that was growing up with my mom playing the role of Mrs. Corporate America.

The story is a bit different now. Talk about uncharted waters. I have jumped into a world that is about as foreign to me as Christmas carols are to the Jihad! I’m guess the plan is to just keep searching, reading, asking, anyone, anything I can get a hold of to try and gain more knowledge about this industry. I guess I could continue to bullshit my way through this chapter in life too, but that might start to run out…

Thanks for listening

Keep on Keepin' on

It’s good to be back. I know I should have been back sooner but just couldn’t seem to get my ass in front of my computer with the intent to write. God knows it wasn’t because I haven’t had the time.

A lot has changed in the past few weeks. All the changes were certain and I knew were coming my way. I don’t deny that…only that I’m not sure if I knew exactly what these changes would actually feel like. We make changes in our life all the time. The small changes seem to happen quite frequently…new shampoo, a different flavor syrup at Starbucks, new hair style, while the larger changes, for obvious reasons are spread much farther apart.

My last day in the corporate world was August 30th, a Wednesday which means it’s been almost three weeks now. The first week was a wash as that Friday I flew to Houston to see the family and decompress before coming back to the city I love so much five days later. That means it was the middle of the week once my return flight landed and I sprinted out of the gates to pound the pavement to find myself a job!

I had for the previous few weeks been sending out resumes, cover letters, hell even pictures (New York restaurants are quite image conscious) to just about every restaurant from the Hedge Fund flooded Financial district to the Over-Stroller Populated Upper East Side. All of this really got be a whole lot of nothing…

The low point, as I’m sure it was for the rest of the city for much more heartfelt reasons was September 11th. It was a clear day, exactly the same type of weather that fell upon the city 5 years earlier. I woke up late after drinking too much the night before (the last thing I needed to do while being completely unemployed) and it hit me!

I quit my job, hit the eject button on my career, and honestly didn’t know when or where the next check was going to come from…Doubt started waving his nasty pointer finger from side to side all too close to my face. “What the hell was I thinking? How the hell am I going to be able to do this?”

All of these questions bum-rushing my brain set the rest of my body into a huge panic. Maybe not a huge panic, but just the “nothing tastes good, why do I keep waking up 55 times a night?” kind of panic. You know…the fun type!

However by weeks end and thanks to the amazing group of people I have in my life all was settled or at least much more manageable than Monday. My family and close friends have been more than I deserve. It’s like I have a 24 hour phone-a-friend line I can use whenever and however often I need it.

That day was a good day looking back because it was a real day. I needed to realize that this wasn’t going to be easy. If it were, wouldn’t more people take the chance? I don’t remember ever hearing an interview with a well established writer, singer, actor, producer who said…”ya know, the whole thing was pretty easy. It just sort of happen with very little effort or struggle.”

I now know that there will be bad days and probably even gut wrenching days where I might second guess my choice, but I also know there will be great days to follow. I made this life changing decision and plan on seeing it out to the end…

Thanks for listening

Today

Write it down. Write it over and over again. Keep it somewhere that you read it over and over again. Make it more than just something you want to do, make it something you will do!

All of those lines or phrases have probably been written in one form or another a million times and can be found, printed multiple languages in every Self Help section of any Barnes & Noble. I don’t think that makes their message or the reason behind them lose importance. I am a big believer in “Thoughts Are Things,” and all that mumbo jumbo that you always seem to hear very successful people screaming from the back seats of their Rolls Royce Phantoms.

About 3 months ago I wrote my own little mantra and I just realized I haven’t read it often enough. Not at all! I sprung out of bed one night, grabbed a Bic pen and wrote, right on my white wall “Do Something Big Today.”

With the life changes that are coming up at a rocket’s pace, I need to keep reading that over and over and over again. After all, that’s the long term goal for everyone right. I mean, big doesn’t mean Celebrity Status or an Estate in East Hampton. “Big” could be the perfect house with the perfect family in the perfect little town in Middle America. “Big” should mean something different to everyone and probably does.

But the question is, “what do we do on a daily basis that helps us obtain what we really want? What do we do on a daily basis that helps us get us to where we want to be?”

Thanks for listening

It's the Little Things

It’s funny sometimes when you have an idea in your head about how your next hour, day, or even week will go. You’ve got some plans here and there, you’ve got some things you want to do and then some things you have to do…You know there will be few little surprises along the way – after all, that’s what keeps it interesting, that’s what makes it “life.”

Knowing that I’m about to throw all regularity and routine out the window in just a few weeks, I welcomed a couple of those little surprises with open arms this weekend. I’m still in the hunt to find a source of income once I’ve flown the cube so I’d be lying if I said that’s not a bit stressful. However, I’m usually equipped with my perma-optimisitc-glass-half-full mantra so that helps balance out the stressful obstacles soon to be in my way.

Those surprises though, damn they sure do help. They’re not huge boxes wrapped with a bow sitting on top, no they're much smaller. It’s funny because on the right day they can be so minute and yet make all the difference in the world. It seems as though it’s usually a familiar face or voice that makes these little surprises worthwhile. Whether it’s a phone call out of the blue or simply catching up over a long lunch, these usually small blips on the radar can make a world of a difference.

Thanks for listening

Head Of The Class

I was recently pondering over my soon to be life changes when I came across a couple of questions I’m not sure if I can answer. Will I be joining a different class of the city now? And if so, is there interaction between the two classes? Am I leaving one side behind and welcoming the next with open arms?

Maybe I’m being a tad dramatic but I don’t think I am, really. New York City can be funny like that…Sure it’s the World’s Capital from Fashion to Finance and has the money to prove it, but there is certainly a very distinct class structure. It’s not solely based on last names like I’m sure it was 100 years ago when the Carnegies and Rockefellers were cruising down 5th Ave. And to tell you the truth, I don’t think it’s easy enough to say that it is based on money alone, but it sure is a factor.

Two months from now when I’m a starving artist (who doesn’t want to lose a few pounds) and waiting tables at some nice hot spot downtown, and sadly making probably more than I am now, will I be looked at differently when I explain what I do for living? Isn’t “what do you do for a living” always one of the first questions we ask the opposite sex in our first encounter as if to size them up instantaneously by their title as if we were back in the days of York. (The original one, not the New one)

After all, what’s the difference between a broker who works in real estate verses one who works in bonds, other than the obvious? They both have ‘professional’ jobs, they both probably do well financially , they both work ‘normal’ hours, right? That’s apples to apples!

But what if our brokers are dead even, neck (tie) and neck (tie), they both have ‘it.’ But then all of the sudden, one broker says he’s actually an actor or a writer, and he’s waiting tables right now while he’s chases his dream? Does the race become not so close? Does our AWOL broker fall drastically behind? What if our brave broker does just as well financially? Is there now a separation of participants, a serperation of classes?

I am extremely interested to see how situations like the one above play out in the future for yours truly. I know there will be more than a few opportunities to see exactly if this city of mine is as divided as I think she is…

"I'd Like To Thank The Academy..."

I know it’s really putting the cart before the horse, but I’m sure that when I make it or when I feel I’ve done something really grand, I know I will have a long list of people to thank and I’m eternally grateful for that! Since making my decision to jump into the “starving artist’s” world I have received some less than inspiring comments from some…however most have been anything but.

I have received so much positive support from so many people, friends, family, co-workers, co-workers I don’t even really like or know very well…

Granted, it’s not your every day water cooler talk “so Bob, how’s work going, same old, same old?” “

“No Susan, actually I’ve decided to quit my job and try to “make it!”

“What do you mean “make it”? Are you trying out for American Idol?”

The truth is I’m still finalizing my plan, still trying to find the best path to get me to where I want to go…I may have to just work backwards, decide on my location and figure out a way to get there sooner rather than later.

My life will certainly change after the end of this month, there’s not a person that can argue that…I will go from my 8-7 job, the one I’m not so fond of, to working nights. I will go from slacks and button-downs to, well, slacks and button-downs, I plan on working at a nice restaurant if possible.

Now, obviously that’s short term thinking. And if I know one thing it’s that thinking in the short term and not keeping your eye on the prize will result in a very short trip! Right now between scary moments of uncertainty, I get flashes of hope, excitement, and limitless possibilities. Next step…make those happen and make them happen as often as possible.

Thanks for listening

Feels Good To Be Back

I’ve come to find out that writing is a lot like going to the gym. No one really likes to go to the gym, no one really likes lifting weights or running in place for an hour. It’s the feeling of accomplishment once the last rep of the last set is complete. Well, I think writing is the same.

Staring at a blank page can be a bit like looking at your “workout clothes,” all folded in a nice, neat pile. Do you really want to get them all wrinkly, all sweaty? They look so peaceful…

All I can think is, "do I really want to mess up that nice clean cut looking 8”x 11” piece of paper?" You’re damn right I do! I took some time from something that I should not have, something I missed and unfortunately something that gets harder to do, the longer you stay away from it.

I’ve had some pretty big changes over the last 30 days. (We’ll just call my time off, a mini-sabbatical) By far, the biggest, life changing, are-you-serious difference from now and just a few weeks ago is my professional future. After months and months of trying to find my “calling” or less dramatic, my happiness, I came to one conclusion.

I would have to, if I truly wanted to live with no regrets, make a huge decision. The weeks grew longer only because the days seemed to never end and I became someone that was not me. Leading up to the actual day when it all made sense, my mind would go back and forth at a record pace, trying to make sure I was going to make the right decision. Those were the hardest days, when hour by hour I was going in different directions.

I wish I could say there was a moment of clarity, a moment that only a Disney Movie or Made for TV Movie could capture when it all made sense…But there wasn’t. Now, don’t me wrong when it comes down to it, it was an easy decision. I have to do what’s going to make me happy, I have to take a chance, I have to see what I can do.

So I did. I’ve given my notice at my job, the same job I’ve seen success at over the past two years. I’ve given my notice to more than that though. I’ve given my notice to all security, stability, and routine.

Those might not be the sexiest words in the English language (actually they sound like words used in one of those commercials for a motorize scooter) but they sure are scary. But I once read something that said you should write down the top 5 things you’re afraid of and make it your To-Do List!

So, with of my fear of a ménage trios involving two Brazilian beauties and being extremely well off, I think I’ve got a nice well rounded To-Do List!

Thanks for listening

Help Needed!

I have recently started to search and scramble around this World Wide Web in hopes that I might find outlets for yours truly to get noticed. Most of these webzines as they’re called pay nothing, but getting published is getting published…That being said, please take a look at the posting below. I would like to submit a few postings in hopes that it turns out to be something…it could be nothing…but it could be everything!

If I have a one posting or God willing more than one you think would make a good fit, please let me know by posting a comment…


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Cube-Side, a new liberal-minded webzine, is looking for columnists! Cube-Side was created as a gift for the working world and as a remedy for the onset of boredom that occurs post-lunch in the 9-5 world. If you are a writer who feels they have something interesting to contribute to the Cube-Side audience, we'd like to hear from you. Currently we are looking specifically for entertainment and music columnists - movie reviews, album reviews, satirical pop culture columns, celebrity columns (anything that is well-written and interesting). While we don't have set guidelines for these particular areas, we are not looking for location specific reviews of concerts and events (we will consider those types of columns on a case by case basis). Submission Guidelines: If you are interested in submitting your work, please send us a sample column to submissions@cube-side.com. DO NOT SEND US YOUR BLOG UNLESS YOU CHOOSE A SPECIFIC ENTRY THAT YOU WOULD LIKE US TO READ (and if you go that route, please note that it is your blog in the email and that you'd like us to read a particular entry). Please send your sample as a word attachment that is no longer than 1,000 words. If we like your work, we'll contact you to do a guest column and go from there. There is a great possibility that this will turn into a bi-weekly gig if all goes well and you seem like a fit for Cube-Side. Unfortunately, we cannot compensate you for your work but we can promise you a publication credit and a hand in working with an exciting new webzine. www.cube-side.com "For All Your Office Needs"

Back At The Ranch

“Oh, sorry about that” said the girl in her mid twenties sitting in 17C. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” I assured her it was a 3.5 hour flight and it was bound to happen again. That reassurance however, did not stop her from voicing her apologies every single time it happened.

It was after about the 5 or 6 “sorry about that” that it was more than clear that she was heading home back to Texas and was most certainly just a visitor of NYC. I mean don’t get me wrong, New Yorkers get a bad rap for being mean or impolite, and a lot of them deserve that reputation, but I think the rest of us are just in too big of a damn hurry to same “sorry about that” once let along another 10 times.

It was this passenger full of kindness that would be my first exposure to Texas hospitality. No I had heard everything was BIGGER in Texas, not NICER but it certainly seemed to be the case as I went for the first of I’m sure many trips to visit my family.

This is the second house in a row of my parent’s that I had to walk in and say, “well, where’s my room?” It’s kind of a cool feeling…There is all this newness, all this beautiful new space (and lots of it, as I said everything is BIGGER in Texas), but yet there is this strange feeling of familiarity.

I had seen the entire family just a few months ago, but that’s the great thing about a close family it’s like we had dinner the night before. The same ball busting and laughter picks up right where it left off…

After all it’s those things, the little things that make a family and make a home. That why, even though I didn’t know this house from any other on the street, I was my home before I even set foot inside. It’s funny that way…I consider NYC to be my home, but not my apartment, that’s just an apartment after all and here’s this house in Houston I consider home too…

Thanks for listening

There's No Place Like Blog

That’s the funny thing about writing…It’s not like riding a bike at all. I have been neglecting my dearest blog over the last month and I apologize about that, I do. I sincerely do. It has probably done myself more harm by not getting my thoughts and feelings out on a regular basis. (Maybe that’s why I feel a little heavier, I’m all stopped up with thoughts and feelings…Yeah, that’s it)

To me not writing on a daily basis is a bad thing, not only does the material pile up and never gets its chance in the lime light, I become more hesitant to write again. I know it’s stupid but it’s a fact, Jack. The only thing I can compare it to is when you have a crazy weekend and seem to be pulling cash or your debit card out every 15 minutes for another sizable purchase. (You know you’ve all had weekends like that…)

So when that ‘oh, I don’t really want to go to work tomorrow’ feeling comes around Sunday evening, you know you should go online, and asses the damage you’ve done. Not only is it the adult thing to do, it’s the fiscally responsible thing to do. But what do you do, you wait, you wait. “I’ll check it in the morning, I’ll check it tomorrow, I might as well check it on Friday when I get paid, it won’t look as bad then.”

The screen starts to come full, from the top down, you’re peeping through your hand as it looks like you’re doing a Horizontal Star Trek Salute…You know you’ve done it!

My point is that once you see the results, it’s usually not that bad. (Unless you just got back from Vegas and were on a 48 hour bender, then it could the results could be catastrophic.

I feels good to be back, it feels good to write, and it feels even better knowing that I have people to write for…thanks for always checking for new stuff!

I will certainly have plenty of material come the next 6 weeks or so, so please keep coming back for more!

Thanks for listening

Dusty 'Deli' Bottoms

Where to start? I mean I take a few days off from writing and the ideas, stories, and events just seem to pile up faster than I can get them written. I wish I wrote every day, I do, however, late evenings, early meetings, and just about everything else in between are usually what keeps me from sticking to a strict schedule.

Let’s take Wednesday evening for example. It’s hump day, the week is more than half way over and you can smell the weekend off I the distance so why not partake in some after work cocktails.

I suppose ‘cocktails’ really isn’t the being honest though. I mean after all, I was going to a Yankee game. Who in their right mind orders a ‘cocktail’ while witnessing America’s Past Time? No one, or at least no self respecting straight male.

First pitch was set to be at 7:10 which meant most people were going to try and dart out of the office right around 5 to make sure they had enough time to have a few beers before entering the stadium. Now, what made this Yankee game different from the ones before it, was that it was in Staten Island. Yeah, that’s right Staten Island, NY. Staten Island is the 5th and most often forgotten borough of New York City.

This beautiful Wednesday night my friends and I made our way downtown by way of the 4 train to the most southern stop, then walk to the ferry station to enjoy what would be a truly “only in New York story!”

The Staten Island Yankees are one the New York Yankees minor league teams. That basically means that every single player on the field was younger than me. A trend I’m starting to notice every time I watch a professional sport of any kind…

We made our way to the front of the ferry so as I would get to see every bit of the twenty minute ride from our Island to another. However, before making our way to the bow (I think that’s the proper nautical term) we grabbed beers. The “Snack and Shop,” a lovely little counter of convenience where you could purchase popcorn, peanuts, hot dogs older than me, and of all things, Miller Lite!

With Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty seen off to the right we cruised along with beers in hand, sunglasses still on, and a site straight ahead the looked like a mini baseball stadium. The ride was beautiful and something I suggest all New Yorkers do at least one time. (One time is enough, trust me)

It was a short walk to the stadium where we met another group of friends. Now with a full view of lower Manhattan, more beers, and ball park dogs, I knew this was going to be a great evening.

The game was exciting and extremely entertaining with our mini-yankees scoring 6 runs in the bottom of the 8th inning to hold on to a 7-6 victory over the fierce Brooklyn Cyclones. Post game beers were held at a bar across the stadium with yet another amazing view of the city we now realized we needed to get back to…

The large group of friends that had cheered, yelled, and drank together at the game decided to split up once we made it back to our island. I found myself in a usual position though, the 5th wheel. (once you’ve been the 3rd wheel for so long, being the 5th wheel is like a walk in Central Park)

“Now where?” someone asked. “Beats the hell out of me, I have no idea what’s around this part of the city” was my reply. After all, being near the financial district after 9pm is like being in a very well constructed ghost town.

“How about a strip club/lounge, there’s one just a few blocks away from here,” one of the ladies suggested.

I’m not a huge fan of these types of establishment. I love spending money, don’t get me wrong, but not on clothes I can’t wear, meals I can’t eat…Well you get where I’m going with this!

However, a robust “yeah, that sounds perfect” came from the other two gentlemen, so off we were, off to an experience and a story I will never forget.

After the before mentioned ‘few blocks’ we were there…Now I’m not saying judging a book by it’s cover is a logical thing to do, however judging a strip club by it’s exterior makes perfect sense.

It was not a Scottsdale or Vegas like establishment, it didn’t even look like it belong in New York City. But nonetheless we were standing outside about to enter when we heard, “10 bucks a person!”

“Alright, that was a good idea, oh well, maybe next time” I muttered as the two couples decided to go into the deli next door to get a late night snack. (or so I thought)

I was standing outside, I’m sure sending a drunk text message when my buddy came out of the deli and said, “Come with me right now.”

“No, I’m not hungry, I don’t want anything.”

“Shut up, follow me, you’re not going to believe this, come with me right now!”

“Alright fine, I’ll go.”

As we walked through the deli it looked a like a million other delis in the city…Long glass cases of food on the left, the smell of bacon hanging heavily in the air, and a TV with terribly bad reception playing in the background.

However, the similarities to every other deli stopped just a few feet short of the back door. A back door that in itself looked a bit sketchy. Most people would have probably stopped at this point. Oh no, not use though we kept right on going…

On the other side of this door was a different world. Gone were the bad florescent lights and smell of cold cuts. The title floor had ended on the other side of the door and given way to a beat up wooden floor. The background noise that was the TV on the deli side of the door was now some slow hip hop song.

“Where in the fuck are we” looks were strewn across all of our faces. Did we just end up in a speak easy-like strip club only accessible by walking through a deli? Was this place part of the establishment next door? Was this place legal? Was this place going to be where we die? All valid questions racing through our minds faster than the stripper’s ass bouncing on the crouch of the guy sitting next to us.

I mean, I’ve heard you have to diversify to be successful but this is ridiculous…

“Um, hi yeah. Can I get roast beef on rye with mayo, lettuce, and tomato? Oh, and a lap dance too? Thanks!”

We all continued to laugh, drink, and look around with amazement as it was all too surreal! The lighting was bad, the bar was probably filthy, and the ladies were definitely the C squad…However, the staff was polite, the drinks were cold and cheap, all of which made for another full chapter in the stories of ‘Only in New York.’

I would tell you the rest of the story but you know the rules…What happens in the deli stays in the deli!

Thanks for listening

Tossed!

While making the walk home through what felt like the streets of the depths of hell due to the heat and humidity I decided I’d grab a quick bite to eat. There are probably 30 different restaurants along the nine blocks I walk home everyday. On this particular day I decided I was going to go the healthy route.

After all, it’s summer, it’s time to get back to the gym, and more importantly I’ve got another wedding coming up in just a few weeks. I know just as well as the next girl, showing up a bit chubby to a wedding is the fastest way to make sure your name is flying around the table. After all, I feel like the window to say, “I’m still carrying a little holiday weight” has been closed for months now!

With the heat beating down on me, I swung into deli to get a salad. Now that may sound embarrassing to my Alpha Male readers, but here in NYC it’s quite acceptable to eat a salad. The salads are great b/c they make to order with just about everything but the kitchen sink included…They grab the plastic bowl full of clean lettuce and start throwing in what you call out!

Just a few more blocks in this heat and I would be home. I ditched the overly big white bag the salad came in and just kept it under my arm as I was going to try and scarf it down and make it to the gym before 8pm. At this point beads of sweat were rolling down my face and I’m sure it looked like the Bermuda Triangle of Sweat showing through my long sleeve shirt.

Finally I’m at my door and moments away from getting back into some AC and I couldn’t be happier. I stopped a few feet from my door because there is an apartment on the third story who’s AC unit leaks directly in front of the door to the building. And by leaks I mean the drops of water that look like clear water balloons crashing to the ground every 3.5 seconds.

I’ve got my bag thrown over my shoulder, my salad under my arm like it’s a football, all this time I can feel my entire body becoming that much hotter. There’s me, the water, and the door. I started to fumble around my pocket for my keys and then, as is usually the case when you’re in a hurry, seem to have found a black hole in my pocket.

More sweat, more fumbling, and the salad is starting to become very slippery. At this point, I’m elbow deep in my right pocket, fighting lose change to get my damn keys when it happens!

The door starts to open. Yes, perfect, finally! Other than our door weighing as much as a medieval castle drawbridge, I will be inside in just a few seconds. As the door opens the cute girl (or so I guess because I’ve yet to meet her) from the apartment above me, looks up, sees my sweating face, my beady eyes, and my hand going crazy in my right pocket.

She screams at the sight of what I can only imagine looks like some sicko getting his rocks off outside her new apartment building and with a salad no less. As her scream bounces off me, it scares the hell out of me, after all I’m at the point where I think the heat has made me delusional I start to let out a little scream too!

Now I know that’s about as manly as my choice for dinner and maybe that why what happened next was meant to be. With both of us startled and me suffering from heat stroke, my salad goes flying out of my hand, into the air and crashes to the ground, shooting lettuce everywhere. The lid is about a block away and there are small cherry tomatoes floating in the pond-like puddle the AC unit from the third floor has created.

Once our nerves settled and I had a chance to wipe off my forehead everything seemed to be, as I’m sure it did to anyone watching, absolutely hilarious. We both laughed and then introduced ourselves soon there after. As she headed down our block I went up to grab a broom so I could clean up the evidence of my dinner as it lay dead to the world, right outside my doorstep…

Thanks for listening

'Crash' on Aisle Five!

“Wow, a two liter of Pepsi is only 99 cents!” “Are you kidding me look how wide the isles are too!” That’s right I was out if the city for a few days and stopped by one of the pieces American culture I miss so dearly…The Supermarket.

Now, don’t get me wrong we have grocery stores in Manhattan but they are by no means Supermakets! They’d be lucky to be called Averagemarkets. For some reason, lack of space probably being the most important, the grocery stores in this city tend to be small, below ground, crowded, an arm-n-leg expensive, and have the most obnoxiously rude employees.

This thankfully was not the case in Saratoga Springs. (Upstate, New York) After leaving my baby, the city, for ten whole days while gallivanting through Europe, I left her again this weekend. I think I’m becoming a bad parent. Nonetheless, friends of mine from Third and Long decided we would make a mini road trip to see Dave Matthew’s Band perform Saturday night.

We left the city around 11am, bright eyed and bushy tailed to get out of the city as the Weather guys were predicting temperatures in the mid 90’s. If you’ve never been in New York City in the dead of summer it’s like being in a concrete jungle just down the street from the depths of Hell! It’s Hot!

“It smells so fresh and look at the size of the produce sections” said one friend. As we continued to marvel at the size and cleanliness we were the recipients of many a “they’re not from around here stares” as we packed our cart full of tailgating essentials. Chips, check…Beer, check…bright colored drinking straws, check…”Wait, what the hell are these?”

“Oh, come on their cute, and we can use them for the Smirnoff Ice’s” was the quick response from the ladies of the trip. Well, the ladies and our gay friend. As we were going to a concert and not a football game, I let the straws slide. I mean it’s not like they were little straw umbrella’s.

With our cart barely containing our “how to have a good time at a concert” kit we headed for the checkout line. Again, it was clear we were not from those parts as we continued to joke, laugh, and occasionally point out mullets as they came into our oasis. The clerk was nice as she scanned each item, it costing about 1/5th of the cost had we loaded up in the city.

“Ok, the total is $126.54 and we need to see everyone’s ID.” Classic, I love it our ages ranged from 23 to 31 and they needed to see all of our IDs. None of us had a problem with this as we could not get over how cheap our evening was going to be. “Did she forget the beer, is she hooking us up?” All of these questions were whispered back and forth with no real answer found other than Manhattan is damn expensive!

But we love it, and it’s great to be back!

Oh, by the way, the show was great and the weather was perfect! It was an all around great weekend!

Thanks for listening

Designer Debauchery!

Well I made my way back in one overly exhausted, extremely beat up, and with a smile that could touch both sides of the pond. My trip which I had very few concrete plans set in place before touching down in Shannon, Ireland turned out to be, as I’m sure it is for most, an absolutely amazing experience.

When I touched down in my obnoxiously green painted 767, it was only two feet into Ireland I heard a familiar voice. “Last Name” I heard shouted in my direction. (Now, obviously that’s not what someone yelled or in fact my last name, but if I put my last name you’d know my true identity. I do have nice short and quite unique last name that I have gone by since my Pop Warner days. Somehow my Sir Name, as it was referred to on the Irish Immigration form is still what a lot of people still call me in the office.)

I whipped my head around quickly to find the voice I knew quite well. I was still scraping the eye crunkies out of both eyes as I left NYC at 10pm and arrived at 9am the next morning. “Hey buddy, how the hell are ya? It’s good to see you.” Now I know this sounds like boring small talk for a friend I’ve just seen in a foreign country not more than 15 minutes since my arrival but I work with the guy and had seen him Friday in the office before he left.

No I would hold on too my big hellos for others, new people, old people I hadn’t seen in a while and of course the bride and groom I would see in one week for it’s their wedding that sparked the idea of this life changing trip.

My friend and I met his girlfriend who was traveling with him in a small airport eatery. They had already finish breakfast as they had arrived on the flight before mine by a few hours. We chatted a bit, “how was your flight? “how about the flight attendants outfits? (Outfits that must have been crafted and dyed by the same guy who decided to go with the shamrock / sea foam green exterior paint I noticed every time I glanced out of my window seat)

The three of us were flying to Paris in just a few hours. A trip I had planned, knowing they would be there as well. After all, I figured it would be nice to know at least two faces in a country filled with complete strangers (oh and strangers who are not real big fans of the good old U – S – of A.

Our flight was on RyanAir, the Southwest of Ireland. You know the type, no seat assignments, cheap fares. Oh, and seats that don’t go back, no tray tables and the safety manual highlighting where each exit is located and what it would it look like if there were to be a severe change in cabin pressure. Mind you all of this done by drawings a first year student at Simpson’s University could have done. It is plastered on the seat in front of you because the normal pocket that you normally manage to shove you book, iPod, newspaper, and wrapped up chewed gum (you know you do) into does not exist.

Now I understand keeping costs low so that these cheap fares get butts in these seats, but would it kill them to throw just a bit of comfort into them first? Nonetheless, with their bright and I mean bright blue and yellow plane they touched down in sunny Beauvais airport 5 minutes ahead of schedule. It was a quick process through Customs and then it was onto a bus to Paris. Much like Southwest, RyanAir tends to fly into nice clean little airports just right outside of the big cities. The ride was easy and even gave me a time to see the French country side. Outside of the steering column being on the wrong side (the right side) of the car and the driver driving on the wrong side of the road (the left side) the ride was easy as pie or crème burlee.

I was riding solo on the bus as my friends had arranged a car to pick them up. As we cruised into Paris with the Eiffel Tower in the back drop I got a little lump in my stomach. Unlike the lumps that would soon follow, this one was not due to too many espressos and cigarettes. (I don’t usually smoke, but you know what they say, when in Rome…)

The lump was this, I have no idea where I’m going to sleep tonight, I don’t speak the language and I am loving every minutes of this…it’s true it’s a very similar feeling I had when I first moved to NYC with no job and no place to call home. The feeling can only be something compared to that of an X Games athlete or sky diver. It’s absolutely petrifyingly thrilling.

I had my back pack, a small black roller bag, a shot of espresso and a newly purchased map of the city. Before I left I printed out the last correspondence I had with a girlfriend of mine I was planning on staying with…She gave me the address she thought she might be at, and two numbers she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to access. So with promising leads, what could go wrong, right?

As I continued to order incorrectly, trying desperately to recall vocab and tenses from my sophomore year in French II, I was trying to find the streets and numbers listed on my printed out copy of the all important email on the colorful map that seemed to continue to grow with every flip and fold. As I drank my second espresso, I managed to order some bread and marmalade dish that came with a cup of coffee. Classic I know!

After I almost literally jittered out of my seat I made my way for the Arc de Triomphe where I was hoping to find a Metro station (Thankfully metro means metro in French and English). I would have been quite surprised had I found out that metro translates into ‘place the French beat newly arriving Americans’ but like I said that didn’t happen as it was just like getting on the 6 train out of Grand Central.

One part of me was extremely proud of finding the subway and giving it a try when I had been in the city for little more than two hours at this point. I had managed to find the street that would hopefully be home to this weary traveler and the subway line that would get me there…after all, I live in NYC, we have quite the efficient public transportation system, if I can get my way from the Upper West Side to South Sea Port I can certainly find my way to the 20th Arrondesment.

As luck would have it I made it to the quaint little artist’s loft that my friend was living in for the summer. She (an “only in NYC” story) swapped her Park Slope (a very trendy area in Brooklyn) apartment for the summer with a couple of Paris. The place looked like it was right out of the movie Ghost. There was dried paint all over the hard wood floors, but in a cool way. The sun was shining throughout the entire apartments huge windows and sky lights and right in the middle of the floor were two air mattresses. I was definitely going with the ‘less is more’ mantra on this part of the trip.

As it was about 6pm Saturday night and I had yet to really sleep yet, with the exception of very prolonged blinks on my flight over, we headed out to experience, not see the city. The first café we stopped by was perfect, located on a busy street and the weather was perfect for outside seating.

I should mention that my friend spoke French as she was raised in that big loft above that great party (Canada). That definitely helped as we ordered our first two beers and sat in Parisian sun trying to make a plan for the night. As I asked our server for the “toilet” (I find that a bit obviously and blunt, I’m all for our American “restroom” term. I mean why don’t they just call it the “shitter”?

Once I returned to the table my friend had started chatting out a young guy sitting at the table next to us. As it turns out he was from the exotic place known as Minnesota. And I’m like “are you kidding me, the first person we meet in Paris is from Minnesota?” However, it was nice to get a little inside info from an American that had been there for a week already.

After my friend swapped numbers and email addresses with him, as she would be spending a much longer time in Paris than I would, she thought it would great to have a fellow explorer for the summer. We finished our beers and made our way yet another cute, picturesque street looking for a place to grab dinner.

We came across yet another beautiful restaurant with a huge outdoor patio so of course as it was about 10pm at this point and the sun was finally on its way down, we decided this should be the location for my first Parisian meal. (It was Italian, so I can’t say I made a huge leap out of my normal eating habits).

We drank, ate, took pictures, people watched, laughed, ate some more, drank some more and just simply enjoyed the night. As we started to leave a little after midnight, my friend started chatting up a young gentleman sitting at a table across from us. He was a good looking guy (Hey, I can say that I’m comfortable in my shoes. Although, ironically enough, I wasn’t that night, I didn’t pick the best pair to walk around the entire city of Paris as we soon would.), definitely European but it seemed as though he was with a guy who was obviously gay.

So as I came back from the restroom it looked as though this guy was going to join us for our evening’s adventures and his friend was calling it a night. I will admit I was not thrilled at this junction at first but later it proved to be the right move. His friend who turns out was not gay, was a priest. Classic again, I know.

As we welcomed our third member to the team, his name was Andre we made our way to the Eiffel Tower. It is supposed to be beautiful at night and is was just recently equipped with thousands and thousands of lights that go off every hour on the hour. (A new bell and whistle most of the Parisians are not thrilled with)

We walked along one windy street after another making our way across the city. We could see the enormous structure anytime we were in an area of smaller buildings and it looked as though it was just a few more blocks away, every single time!

Luckily for us, there are just a couple of other things in Paris other than the Eiffel Tower, like the Louvre and the Musee D’Orsay. Now granted these places are usually must sees during the day because of their enormous collections for world renowned art but even in the evening they were amazing. Their size, their structures’ and the detail in which each were built is nothing but sheer brilliance. (I have some amazing pics I hope to post later today)

After we stumbled across the gems we so thankfully saw in the perfect Parisian evening, we finally made our way to the tower we had seen for so long not knowing the distance between us was so great. Very similar to the Washington Monument in, well Washington, DC the Eiffel Tower has a grand lawn that starts at its base and shoots out across the night. It almost seems like if either tower were rested on its side they could simply lay on the lawn like we found ourselves.

We were not the only groups of people experiencing the tower at this point. There were pockets of people every where, drinking their bottles of wine and smoking their cigarettes. Our new found friend turned out to be a great guy. He was from Corsica, an island off the south of France. (It sounds cool just saying that) He spoke very good English and really enjoyed speaking it, as it doesn’t get to do it too often.

As were continued to chat, debate, and probably laugh more than anything, we were approached by a couple of Parisian thugs. (It sounds funny just saying that) There were two of them, a smaller one, and a medium size one. The wanted some of our wine, they were very insistent on that, they were speaking French and even I could tell that…I was not scared or too worried as the smaller one was wearing a D&G belt. Nonetheless it’s not the most ideal situation you want to find yourself in while spending your first night in a foreign country.

As our two little locals continued to insist on trying our delightfully tasteful and nearly empty bottle of wine, Andre had had enough. He got to his feet (this is probably a good time to mention that Andre was built like a…how you say en Francias…a brick shithouse! This again may be a reason I was not too worried that this situation would escalate.

As he and the little one continued to argue and clearly smell each other’s breath as they were standing face to face I decided I would try and talk to the other one, should he speak English that is…well, he didn’t so we didn’t really have much to say to each other. However what he did say, and I fully understood it was a loud whistle which in all languages means hey was calling another buddy.

Ok, now at this point I may have started to get a little heated. I blame it on the red wine but I’ll let you think what you want. As the third now arrived he turned out to be an Andre too. However, of the Giant variety!

I once again reached out to play the role of Switzerland, but to no avail, no parle pas Anglais! “Shit, doesn’t anyone in the fucking country speak English!”

I, mostly because of the language barrier was unable to decided what was said or wasn’t said but luckily nothing much came of the scuffle in front of the Eiffel. Thankfully so, thankfully so…

It was about 5am Sunday morning and I was starting to feel a bit tired as I hadn’t slept yet so we rolled back into our humble abode. What a fucking night! And it was only the first of ten!

And on a completely unrelated note it turns out April is fake! I don’t mean she wasn’t as nice as she seemed or said one thing and meant another, I mean I made her up. It was my first attempt at fiction and I hope you enjoyed it. I certainly did! And although her appearance or personal qualities may be fiction, I would only be so lucky to find her in the Non Fiction section of New York City sooner rather than later!

Thanks for listening

I'm Back Baby!

Well sort of...My trip to Europe was absolutely perfect!!! I wrote a lot and will be posting it tonight. I will also give you the latest on the new girl...Thanks for coming back, you all make this worth writing...!

Thanks for listening

Don Juan O'Donnell

Around 7pm we both started to look around and notice that people were starting to pack up. Blankets were being shaken out, plastic wine glasses were being poured empty and here I am thinking, “everyone stop, stop right now, where are you going, sit back down!” After all, why on earth would I want to any bit of this to stop?

“Do you want to go grab a drink somewhere?” I said it, I mean it came out of my mouth and I would not have been more surprised if two turtle doves came out as well because I had no idea where that line came from…After all, this is a big city, it’s not a movie, and I’ve known this girl for all of 2 hours, why not ask that question?

“Um, yeah sure why not.” Well as surprised as I was when the line came out I was even more surprised when that line came flying across the park. She had mentioned earlier that she lives on the Upper West Side, which I would normally say is very GU (Geographically Undesirable) but I’d be a moron to use having to use three different subway lines to get to the UWS as an excuse at this point. “Why don’t we just start walking west until we find some we like?” Her being new to the neighborhood and me not knowing the UWS every well at all it was the best I could offer. I mean I played in a pool league on the UWS but a pool hall didn’t seem like the ideal spot for a day like today!

We finally found little Irish pub on 76th and Amsterdam that looked just perfect. It wasn’t your usual dark, dreary, ‘we only serve Guinness’ kind of pub, it even had outdoor seating. She actually saw it first and called it out as a suggestion and I could have been happier.

At this point she had tossed on a wife beater over the bathing suit top although it didn’t have that Hanes look to it. I’m assuming it was a wife beater of the fancy variety. Nonetheless, it looked great!

We were thankfully seated at a great table that still had the sun shining on it. I love summer and the marathon like days of sunlight. It was almost 8 and the sun was still out, but starting to fade slowly.

It gets better…but I gotta run…will finish later today though!

Thanks for listening

Made In The Midwest

Well we continued to chat and it was absolutely effortless. There was no “is she looking over my shoulder at the guys behind me?” there was no “is this girl ever going to shut up?”. As we moved from subject to subject she even offered me what was left of her little snack. She had brought some pre cut cheese (notice she didn’t cut the cheese) and fruit she had been nibbling on all day long. I of course decided it would be the closest form of rudeness to turn down this picnic cuisine.

All of the sudden it was like I hadn’t even come up to the park like by myself. At this point it was a little after 6 and the sun looked as though it was just starting to think about heading down but still shining brightly. April was in fact from the Midwest, Chicago no less. (If New York is my wife, Chicago is my Mistress) She had been in the city for a few months so was lucky enough to show up just in the time for the good stuff.

She certainly carried herself well and had that warm Midwest feeling but looked any but the sorts. She was small in stature, as she had a cute pair of khaki shorts on with a black bikini top. As the sun had been beating down on every blade of grass all day long, I was a big supporter of this look. There were 100’s of other girls in their bathing suits, but were wearing both top and bottom. Now coming from Florida, the idea of wearing a bathing suit, top and bottom mind you, with out a single body of water, albeit a pool, lake, channel, or ocean, in sight just seems a bit ridiculous.

As it turns out April works in PR for the medical industry…A job she has openly admitted she’s not too fond of but it was paying her well and it got her to New York. I had to laugh because only moments later she was going over what she liked and disliked about the job so far when her phone rang. Now, normally a phone ringing would not be worth mentioning let along claiming to be a funny act however this time it was different. As if her phone was plugged into an amp her ring filled the parks air with…of all songs and customized songs…The Chicken Dance.

As my hand flew into the hair to emulate two clucking chickens she started to laugh and turn bright red simultaneously. She went on to explain that a friend of hers had downloaded it and set it as her ring a few days ago and she hadn’t remember to change it yet because every time it went off the embarrassment of it all acted like that little gadget in Men In Black and she go tearing through her bag trying to find it only to answer as quickly as possible.

There is something to be said that confidence and the ability to laugh at yourself are a deadly combination. The two, if used properly (why does it sound like I’m writing in a Science Journal) really keep each in check. I only hope she does have both because so far, soooooo good!

Almost done, will finish the evening later today!

Thanks for listening

This Spot Taken?

The better part of my day off was spent in Central Park, the Grand Lawn to be exact, reading watching and even talking…I only mention the talking because I went to the park by myself. With my roommates out of town all weekend long and me going a lil stir crazy staying in to enjoy the solitude I ventured north 35 blocks to enjoy the last few hours of sunlight this Memorial Day weekend.

I grabbed a beach towel, my book, iPod, sunglasses, and bottle of water from the corner deli to complete my kit for the day. I figured the lawn would be littered with people just as myself who were not fortunate enough to be hob-knobbing in the Hamptons or keg standing on the Jersey Shore.

My assumption was correct as there were groups of people as far as the eye could see. Small groups, large groups, and parties of one were everywhere. I found a nice spot away from the throwing zone where every possible recreational object was being whizzed through the air as getting a Frisbee to the temple seemed like a terrible way to end my holiday weekend.

As I tried to concentrate on my book “A Long Way Down” my eyes seemed (and hey were) preoccupied by this beautiful girl sitting at two o’clock. I noticed her before I sat down and looking back she may have been the exact reason I chose that particular piece of real estate. I tried reading on my back, my side, and finally my stomach, all proved to be completely unless and unsuccessful.

She was by herself too which was the first mere glimmer of attractiveness as the afternoon went on…The type of independence, that “I am completely comfortable going to lunch, dinner, or the movies by myself” is just down right sexy. As if she need that head start, she was absolutely beautiful. She was tiny as she struggled to cover much space on her white sheet. She too had brought the essentials for an afternoon in the park. However, she one-upped me as she brought a basket full of goodies.

Her dark hair was pulled back with single strands coming down both sides of her face, both equally as sexy as they were probably blind spots as well. Her small frame was tan and toned with that, “yes I work out, but I’m not a gym rat” as she had a lil tummy that added to the character of a character I hadn’t even met yet.

I say yet because as I tried to make eye contact through my shades through to hers, there was something. There was a smile on her part followed (probably too quickly and too gooberish) by one of my own. We were close enough to talk with out getting up or shouting from towel to sheet…So I did…

“Hey there, how are you?” I know it’s no “here’s looking at you kid” but it’s all that came out. “I’m great how are you?” she said so cheerfully sincere. Now I may be jaded to small talk with women because it’s usually after a few and over a few loudly played songs. But this was different, this was easy.

We continued with the basics, what we had done that day, the previous few days off, and what part of the city we call home. Her name was April and she soon invited me to her neck of the woods or park in this case, so I quickly (probably too quickly once again) hopped up and sat opposite of her on her white sheet. She kept smiling, over and over again, and it was perfect time, like I had never seen it before…

Will finish soon, I promise!

Thanks for listening

Poor Barbaro!

There are many parts that make up our lives that I consider separate participants in a race, all fighting for position, fighting for the right to be the strongest, the omnipresent, and the all empowering. For most I think family is the leader in this figurative journey. I mean, sure there may be times in our lives when the leader is overtaken by another competitor, maybe it’s work or financial stress, but we hope that the crowd favorite regains its lead sooner rather than later…

I only bring such a topic up because I just feel like I’m stuck! I can’t get my mind focused on who or what wants to be the leader. Don’t get me wrong my family is my number one, but in my smaller more selfish and self absorbed world (hey, I call it like I see it, I’m 24 I’m aloud to be selfish) nothing seems to want to take the initiative to cross the tape first. Nothing in my life is going terrible by any means, but I just can’t find that one part, that one element that gets me to jump out of bed in the morning.

Now a cynic would say “that’s getting older or growing up.” Fuck That! I don’t think like that and I’m sure as hell going to live my life like that…I know there are people out there that have their first and second place racers giving it their all. They know what they want, they know where they’re going and they know what they have in order to get there.

I’m not a middle of the pack kind of guy, I know I’m not, so it’s only a matter of time before I find something that makes me regain the lead…I don’t think my trip to Europe could be coming at a better time in the year and my life…

Thanks for listening

A Pint, A Glass, A Cup


Nine days in counting and yours truly will be taking off for his first European vacation. The closest I’ve gotten to globe trotting is watching National Lampoon’s European Vacation a 100 times. “Look kids, there’s Big Ben.” A classic in its own right no doubt, I can only hope my trip is as entertaining without all of the physical comedy.

Luckily I live in a mini UN, as one roommate is from London while the other is from Cape Town and have both traveled all over the world. I have done little planning thus far just because when it comes to traveling that’s just something I don’t usually find the need to do. However, this is a little different from heading down to Florida to see the parents or back to Arizona to see old friends. After all, I think I used a note from my mom to get through security at Fort Lauderdale airport.

The reason behind this perfectly timed vacation is a wedding. Relax, I’m not swinging through Russia to pick up a Mail Ordered Bride. Now that I think about it, even if I was she wouldn’t really be mail ordered as I would be there to pick her up…it would be more like a COD bride.

I am actually taking a leap across the pond for the nuptials of two good friends of mine. They’re getting married in a small town in Ireland. Most of my trip, that will include stops in Paris (oh la la) and London, will be spent in the Irish Spring Hills of that same small town outside of Shannon.

The parts of the trip I’m struggling with are parallel with the same issues I’m dealing with stateside. Sure, the idea of backpacking Europe sounds amazing. Not shaving, moving from place to place on a nightly basis, traveling lightly and worrying the same. However, I don’t know if I’m wired that way…It’s that same idea or way of living, thinking and breathing that gets me some days in the city. Why am I lugging to work to report to the man when I should be writing, working, trying to host my own show, and doing all of this for me in a city that allows for such a lifestyle?

That being said there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to step foot in a youth hostel and share a common bathroom with 3 other foreign travelers and sleep in a twin bed. After all it’s Europe, they invented the finer things of life. I would love the chance to Hotel vs Hostel hopping from one to another. I would love to have breakfast outside countless cafes every morning while experiencing a ’78 Bordeaux by night. That type of power thinking is the same infectious mindset that hits me every time I wear a suit, every time I give a great presentation, every time I rub elbows with the ‘higher-ups’ and I love that feeling all the same…

So I guess the question is, can I live or travel to two different worlds in this lifetime? Is there a place somewhere in the middle that offers a combination of both? I don’t know the answer yet, but I hope to have a better idea sooner rather than later…

Thanks for listening

Tour de NYC

After a Friday night full of drinks with friends that even included a bar fight, the rest of the weekend kind of paled in comparison. Due to the length of Friday’s evening my Saturday was pretty much shot…There is just something about waking up, feeling like you’ve been kicked in the head and having the perfect temperature in your room that makes it tough to get up and moving…

Now I hate being lazy like that, I do, you just feel like you wasted a day and I did! That being said when it came around time for dinner and an invitation for dinner down in Little Italy came about I couldn’t resist. Especially considering the fact that most of the people I would be dining with were part of the debauchery one night earlier.

My roommate and I were the first to arrive on Mulberry Street, the heart of Little Italy as it was just about the perfect night to grab dinner in a great little area I very rarely see. It is literally one Italian restaurant after the next, one after another, all serving the same stuff. I’ve often made the joke that they’re really all connected and there is just a super kitchen that prepares meals for them all. Almost like Disney World, a mega super sized, overaly detailed magical place that is connected by underground tunnels.

As this is probably not the case, we decided on a place that was busy but not crazy. There were 7 of us which made of the perfect number of people for a nice large circular table. Our server was terrible as he managed to get about as much wine on the table as he did in our glasses. Granted, he looked like he could have played an older character in the original Godfather, 25 years ago!

The food was OK, but the company was great. Going out to dinner with groups of friends is something I wish I did more often. It’s just a great feeling to be surrounded by people who are in similar spots, similar places in life as you are…We had apps, then entrees, bottles of wine with both, and finished with coffee. It was like all of a sudden I was a grown up (having espresso was something I’ve been doing for years, but never had friends that joined me) and so was the rest of the table. It was a very scary, yet very comfortable and welcoming feeling.

As Saturday night was much tamer than Friday I woke up Sunday with some energy and a crazy idea…It was nice out almost too nice to go the gym so why not take the old bike out around town?. Now, when I say the ‘old bike’ I’m not just using that as a general term, it literally is an old bike I bought at a street fair a few years ago.

The plan was to bike down the East River from my Murray Hill apartment all the way around lower Manhattan and end up in Battery Park for the few sections of the NY Times I had jammed into my bag. Before the journey really started I stopped by a bike store for some fresh air in the tires. So with my bag full of reading material and the sun on my face I was off.

I had the FDR on my right and the East River on my left as I continued to make my way downtown. There are a lot of parks, fields, and tennis courts once south of 14th street. I know this because once I made my way past Houston (that’s House-ton, not Houston as in Texas) I decided to drive through a small puddle rather than try and fight some joggers for the dry patch on the path. As I came to the other side of this innocent body of water I noticed something was wrong with my rig, I had not a single lick of air in the back tire. I mean none, I was riding on the rim. (See what happens when you try to exercise?).

So after kicking and screaming (there was a soccer game going on next to me, I don’t have a short temper) I started the trek back to my apartment. This time, FDR on the left East River on the right…I stopped about half way to read the few sections I had grabbed out of The Times before I left. It was by far the best part of the trip although reading the paper riverside with the breeze going was not the easiest thing in the world…None the less it was a nice little Sunday and part of a nice little weekend!

Thanks for listening

First Class, No Class

When did everyone get so damn casual? I know it may have started in the office the day after Thursday long ago, but I’m getting a bit sick of it. And maybe it’s just New York but all of the sudden it seems like everyone has dressed down to a whole new level…

As I waited for the initial boarding call for my flight to Phoenix last week I could not help but notice the attire of my fellow passengers. Now it was an early flight but by no means was it still dark outside kind of early. And of course we would all love to flop around all day in our sweats and slippers, I know they’re comfortable. After all, where do you think the phrases, “oh, it’s nothing, don’t sweat it” and “I’m just going to ‘slip’ into something…” came from?

So as I sat in my jeans, white button-down, and black sports coat (dressed up, but not over the top) I continued to see people dressed as if their bed was somewhere between the security check point and our gate. The bed bugs, as I’ll call them were more often than not women, sporting their distracting duds and an US Weekly tucked under there arm as they searched for a seat to call their living room.

Again, who wouldn’t love to cruise around town in their jammies? But come on, it just ain’t right! And as if dressing for bed wasn’t enough, a few of the guilty even brought their pillow as an accessory. 1) Phone charger, check 2) Toothbrush, check 3) Glow worm, check!

I know airplane seats are not the best, I know they’re not made by Lazy Boy and they’re not stocked with pulsating massagers like the chairs in Brookstone, but deal with it! I don’t need to have your Pottery Barn pillow case wedged between us like the thin wall that makes a “Converted Two Bedroom Apartment” possible. I just don’t!

Now I know New York is probably a little old school when it comes to dressing to impress. After all, we don’t have steering wheels and short walks from the parking lot and back to hide behind all of the time. We’re out there, on display all the time…And I love it.

As if being surrounded by concentrated juicy couture wasn’t bad enough, I landed in what is possibly the most casual city in America, Phoenix, Arizona. The sun is always out, the weather is always beautiful, and people’s legs and feet are always exposed. I had forgotten what it was like to wear flip flops to just about any establishment without batting an eyelash between your designer shades. The line “whoa buddy, are you going straight to the wedding or what?” was the first thing that came out of my buddy’s mouth when he picked me up curbside at Sky Harbor.

The answer, “no, you just never know who you are going to sit next to on a plane.” About 4 years ago my mom sat next to the managing editor of a small men’s magazine called Maxim. They started to chat, they exchanged cards, and the very next summer I was in New York City doing an internship. Now, if she would have been sporting a blankie and rollers, something tells me I would have never landed in this city I love!

Thanks for listening

Grounded Before Take Off

The location changed last minute but drinks were still on and I even brought my roommate along for a round of drinks. The weather started to drizzle as I began to hope that was not a sign of the evening to come…

The bar was one I had been to numerous times before (I know, surprise surprise) only because it was very close to my Improv studio. So at least I’d be familiar with my surroundings and know the lay of the land even if it were to be the only lay to come of last Wednesday night.

My roommate and I made our way to the back of the bar to find the lady of the evening sitting with a large group, maybe eight people or so, none of which I had ever met before. It was a long rectangular table and she was sitting in the about the same spot as Jesus at the last supper. That being said there was really no easy or subtle way to find myself setting next to the very girl I’d come to see…

No worries though, there was room at the end of the table where my roommate and I decided to set up camp. And to our pleasant surprise there was a beautiful girl sitting towards the end of the table placed directly between the object of my instant messages and myself.

As it turned out this dark skinned, dark curly haired seating buddy was a very good friend of the very girl I had come to see. We started with small talk and she seemed interesting and actually works in the same industry. After only a few minutes another guy showed up…a good looking guy, wearing a Boston Red Sox’s Tee Shirt, a big deal normally as we are in New York, but an even bigger deal as those Sox’s were playing the beloved Bronx Bombers!

As the bean town boy walked in, he just as Moses did before him, parted the red sea (the long rectangular table) and pulled up a spot right next to you know who. Now a couple of thoughts started to run through my mind at this point. 1, who the fuck is this guy 2, how did I get this wrong again, 3, who the fuck is this guy?

Once again I some how managed to be a blundering fool when it comes to interpreting signs, words, body language, text, IM’s, and even smoke signals when they come from the opposite sex. But the good news about this latest case of mistaken-I-think-she-likes-me was there was very little time, effort and not a single dollar behind it.

So the question now is after spending all night with her friend, is she fair game, is she open waters seeing as though not a single touch, word, or even an admittance of any sort was shared between my original interest? Let me know what you think…

Thanks for listening

Strike Three!

Sorry for the delay, I was in AZ and CA for most of last week...I will give the details of the entire weekend tonight...Please check back...

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Instant Analyzation

“Hey a couple of friends of mine are going to go watch the Yanks / Sox’s game tomorrow night, why don’t you meet up?” Now that has a nice ring to it but an even better ring when it comes out a lovely lady’s mouth and it’s directed towards yours truly.

This femme fan is the same lovely lady from last week’s MTV party so this invite was surely welcomed. We spoke a bit after last week’s bash but were unable to meet up as the week seemed to fly by with a full calendar. We swapped a couple of text messages over the weekend and yesterday I received the invite for tomorrow night’s game via instant message.

Don’t get me wrong, I love technology, I love gadgets, and I own a phone that does everything short of launching NASA shuttles, but is all of this technology really necessary in the dating world? As if trying to play the role of interpreter for spoken words and body language isn’t difficult enough, we now have the capabilities to analyze each word of a text or IM. Isn’t technology great?

Sure text messages are great for “I’m running late, be there in 5 min” or “Where are you?” but when it comes to the first couple of exchanges that come with “this could be a good thing” feelings, I am starting to think we should keep our phones in our pockets.

After all, what happened to passing a note two seats down with a simple question and two boxes to choose from? “Do you like me? [ ] Yes [ ] No

Happy Ocho de Mayo!

In New Jersey before 10am for what I thought were going to be all day client meetings. Something about this, telsl me that it was not one of the ideas the agency behind Corona brand threw around while deciding on the perfect way to depict Cinco de Mayo…Unfortunately it is exactly how I spent most of my day.

The weather was beautiful, the temperature just near perfect for patio day drinking…Luckily my meetings ended sooner than I thought and I was able to make my way back into the city, my smile from ear to ear. After all, much like St. Patty’s day, Cinco de Mayo fell on a Friday which meant I could lick my wounds the next day while on my couch and not at my desk.

I made it home in the late afternoon, slipped on some jeans, flip flops and even a pair of sunglasses to make my uniform complete. The only thing I was missing was set of maracas. Upon arriving at local Mexican Place in Murray Hill I was not surprised to find a line out the door. However, my friends and diehard loco patrons were already inside with a warm seat and a cold beer waiting for me…

After hours spent at that fine establishment and a grande bill that a vendor of ours happen to pick up, we headed to our normal stomping grounds, Third and Long. To our surprise the place was packed to the point of people hanging out the windows. But of course, in a way that was very similar to the way the Mexican Army fought their way past the French to later defeat them and give us this great day of celebration, we marched right into that place and muscled up at the bar.

Another similar characteristic to that fatal war on this sunny Friday afternoon and now early evening were the causalities as the battle went on…Friends, strangers, and even co-workers were dropping like tequila soaked worms. (It’s a Mexican expression, trust me)

I ran into a large group of friends around 8p and decided that why bother with this large crowd of strangers who had so rudely packed our bar and that we should just all take our beans and rice back to my place. I can only imagine what we looked like cruising down Third Avenue, 15 or so people, laughing their asses off and taking it all in…

The afternoon was good, the evening was great and the next morning was disaster. Let’s just say the bum who finds our reclying bin this week is going to think he or she hit the jackpot! It was a great group of people that made for a perfect Cindo de Drinko…

Thanks for listening

US Weekly

Rock stars, pop stars, actors, comedians, suits, open bars, and just about anything else you could ask for…and that was just your run-of-the-mill Tuesday night in this city I love so much.  

There are perks that come with working in the media / advertising industry that I sometimes forget about or don’t realize the magnitude behind until after they’ve happened.  Another party that started in the early evening and went on until the early morning was my poison earlier this week. A small little mom and pop shop by the name of MTV decided that it was time to throw a bash and make sure their bash was better than the rest.  

Well I’m no rock star but God damn I sure felt like I was, as the number of celebrities seemed to almost outnumber us commoners.  There was Jon Stewart who started the show only to be followed by Kanye West who only warmed up the stage for his fellow collaborator Jamie Foxx.  As the presentation continued with Jessica Alba, and some guy by the name of Jerry Seinfeld I decided I really like my job today…yes I do.

After the presentation was put to bed by a small garage band, The Red Hot Chili Peppers it was off to the after party.  It was a quick walk from the Theater at Madison Square Gardens to the site of what would soon be a room of fully loaded media mavens.  As a whole it’s a pretty good looking industry and that was certainly put on display in all directions.  Women dressed in their sexy white blazers and their pointy shoes, hiding their pain by way of a Cosmo talked and gossiped until all hours of the morning.

I was lucky enough to meet up with a group of people I just started working with and hand a blast.  There are some people who are able to do that transition from work to play and I was pleasantly surprised to find a couple of seasoned veterans who did just that…Another pleasant surprise came by they way of a lovely young lady that I know who works on the sales side of the business.  I deal with her on a weekly basis, sometimes on AIM, sometimes over the phone, and occasionally (although certainly not often enough) in person.  

I have only actually seen her a few times, this time taking the cake or mini brownie as they were served as the night went on by an army of servers.  She’s witty and seems to be very comfortable, confident, and did I mention makes me laugh?  So there was an exchange of numbers and I hope that’s not the last thing we exchange!  Oh you’re sick, I was thinking about exchanging witty banter so get your mind out of the gutter!

Hell, and that was just Tuesday night…

Once Wednesday afternoon rolled around I started getting rid of the “wow, was last night a long night or what,” feelings that had been beating me up all day.  Ordering in, maybe an episode of Dead Wood, followed by an early bedtime was all that I wanted…But as we know you don’t always get what you want!  

I was unable to make it home after work because I had prior arrangements and engagements that needed to be my undivided attention.  Ok, fine, you win…I had a party at my favorite bar Third and Long I needed (and I used that term loosely) to go to.

I have a group of friends that are now very close to me that started from that little watering hole.  They are a group of individuals who are truly that, individuals…No two people are alike in age, career, or even hometown.  But there is just something about the mix that just makes it all come together.   It sounds funny to say “oh, that’s my group of friends from the bar” but that’s what they are…and more with every passing Sunday spent together.  

The night was just as I thought it would be, a perfect blend of drinks, drinking games, laughs, hugs, cheers, and thanks…I am truly thankful that I have this band of misfits in my life because they make “my kind of town” feel like home…

Thanks for listening

Sun And The City

It was not as early as I would have liked it to be, but nonetheless I was out of bed and into my gym clothes. The sun was beaming into my bedroom window like it was bragging about just how beautiful it was outside and the fact that I should have gotten up earlier seeing as though I didn’t even go out last night. Laces tied, t-shirt and I was out the door. However not to the gym quite yet, it was really, really nice out…Maybe a stroll around the block and a coffee were in order first?

As I strolled down Third Avenue, in my gym attire no less I was fighting through one of the best signs that the warm weather is here to stay…a street fair. These weekend events that bounce from neighborhood to neighborhood are always the same no matter their location. The tents line the street selling everything from dress socks to roast corn-on-the-cob. This eclectic group of people is always moving from street side to street side hoping the weather is always permitting. I think it’s safe to say these people and their tents are only a Ferris wheel away from being carnies.

After dodging about three or four different tents selling smoothies, I finally made my way to Fourbucks, AKA Starbucks. As I waited in line I noticed two different groups of attractive women scattered about the store/living room. One group looked to be studying while the other looked to be discussing the previous night’s activities. (One was definitely sporting a big bed-head motif)

Once I had ordered and paid for my grande cappuccino I did as we all do once we know we’ve done our part. I moved to the side and waited for my order to be called. It was around 11am so there was definitely an abundant amount of caffeine sliding across that poor counter top. With yet another twosome of twenty-somethings walking in as I made my way out of the store I decided that the coffee is not the hottest thing Starbucks has to offer. My coffee breath and I will certainly have to return to this location in search of a not-so-tall, mocha latte, with brains too!

The better part of my afternoon was spent laying around Central Park on a day I hope the Board of Tourism was not out and about for…After all if there was any footage of the grand lawn at 2pm this afternoon, and that footage made its way to the Internet, the city would be overrun with hoards of people looking to enjoy the life style that this city offers.

It literally looked like a movie set all afternoon. There were cute young couples, dressed in their bright spring colors and their beautiful babies with camp setups that made M*A*S*H* look like a Boy Scout’s campsite. They had blankets, baskets, toys, strollers, and those were just for the mini human that was not as big as a loaf of marble rye. They had their own tools of the trade too. There was the huge bag from Dean & Deluca that carried a spread of cheeses, olives, and a chilled bottle of white wine to enjoy as the sun was just warm enough and the breeze was just cool enough.

Normally the abundance of couples and their constant showing of affection drives me crazy but I had my fair share of company today. I had a girlfriend of mine I hadn’t hung out with, just the two of us that is, in way too long. We stopped for sandwiches and drinks and even a couple of cookies at a deli on 83rd and park before we ventured into the park. We work very well together…so much so the store clerk, a fiery gray haired man said how lucky we were to have each other. A compliment we just ate up and acted as though we had heard a million times before…Hell for Mr. Single it was great to at least act like I had a lil lady friend for the day!

We lay around for hours, joking and mostly talking about the hundreds of people that surrounded us. We ate our lunches, never even cracked open our books, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. I think a great sign of a solid relationship, friendship or romantic is not if you can continue to always have seamless conversation but if you’re completely comfortable with the silence in between those conversations…

Thanks for listening

The Six to Serenity Now

After spending Tuesday evening in a Luxury Box at Yankee Stadium drinking canned beer and bullshiting about every possible sports stat in modern time, last night was quite the change of venue. It was that time again. That special time that happens about every 6 weeks, if I can make it that long. It was time to head to the East Village to that special little oasis that lets me forget that I work 30 blocks north, in a glass and metal monstrosity where phone calls and emails occur at an alarming rate. It was time for…wait for it…wait for it…t was time to get a hair cut.

I was cutting it close as I flew out of work and headed to Grand Central to jump on the 6 train down to Astor Place. I hate to be late, whether it’s for a hair cut or just meeting a friend for drinks. (Note to self, put tardiness on my dislikes list) I feel like there is a 5 minute bumper zone here in the city as most people have to rely on public transportation. This is a far cry from the “I’ll be there in 25 minutes,” which really means 45 minutes in LA’s native tongue.

As I waltzed in a just few minutes late the place as bumping. It has such a good vibe and positive aura that just seems to fill the room from floor to the tin ceiling. The dynamic of the people occupying my little safe haven is always really interesting. Most of the stylists have crazy hair and attire that is dripping in personal style. The funny part is while these purple Mohawk masters of the scissors do what they do, they’re client’s are usually very clean cut and look like they’re imports into the neighborhood just as I am…

As I sat patiently waiting for my guy, the owner, to finish up with his current client, I noticed he didn’t look too far into the process. I’m mean I’m no hair guru but when over heard him say “so what are doing here” as he played with the guys hair assessing his work load and clearing his canvas. At that time the always very polite and attractive dark skinned beauty from behind the counter came over and asked what my name was…

Apparently the gentleman who was just in the stages of “um, yeah just take it up a little in the back” slid into my appointment by answering yes to “hi, are you Just Some Guy” and “are you hear for Nelson?” That bastard! But as I mentioned this place is so calm and comforting, I shrugged it off and headed to the deli on the corner for a cup of coffee and the post. In a city that is so damn full of hustle and bustle there was no way I was going to pull my hair out over something like this…

Thanks for listening

Mental or Mattel?

My post yesterday must have rung loudly with the sounds of loneliness or desperation much louder than I thought it did because it was like a game show all afternoon trying to find yours truly a special little lady. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a little help, I’d be a fool not to.

I did have an interesting thought on my way to work. It may be a little too much “A Brave New World” and definitely a little too much adolescent fun, but I’ve got an idea. What if dating and finding the one that sets your heart on fire was like play Mr. Potato Head, or Ms. Potato Head in my case?

I mean outside of her round figure that I’m sure a couple a sessions of cardio a week could help transform, I think it’s one hell of an idea. I have spoken in a past post about the little oddities and blemishes that we usually overtly overlook because the person they belong to is that great. Well forget that with this new means of dating. Good bye Match.com, good bye EHarmony.com and hello you sexy spud!

But what an idea? Her eyes aren’t exactly what I’m looking for and I think those frames a bit outdated. No problem, I’ll just go into my small plastic box of parts and see what we can find. After finding a pair of beautiful blue eyes and opting for her to get lasic I ditch the frames…

Ok, this does sound a little creepy, a bit weird science, I know. I’m just saying that wouldn’t it be fun? I know I have had past girlfriends as well as girls who are friends that I would love to have as parts in my plastic box. If I could grab the heart of my first girlfriend, way back in 8th grade who I’m still very close with to this day, I’d do it without even thinking. Then I’d move on to the intelligence and ability to adapt to any situation from Five Stars to Dive Bars the my best girl friend in college had and still has to this day…

Hell, I haven’t even gotten to the body and lord knows that could take more time, space, adjectives, and a lot more thought. I know this is unrealistic, but in a way isn’t this what we do while we date? Isn’t dating like a big experiment or a big process of elimination? We move from one person to the next, finding what we like and what we don’t like only hoping that our conclusion is a mix of the good, a dab of the bad, and just feels right…

Alright now that I’ve played Dr. Frankenstein and Dr. Phil in matter of paragraphs I better quit while I’m ‘Potato Head.’

Thanks for listening

No Hair Below My Adam's Apple


Unfortunately this story is far less dramatic than the title would lead it to be. Call me the New York Post, but great headlines grab readers. I mean, it’s no “Wacko On His Backo” but you’re still reading aren’t you?

The focus group was much more normal and legit than I though it would be. I had planned on pages and pages of hilarity from the mere chance that the actual focus group could live up to the persona of the woman who recruited me. Sadly it was not.

But now down to the nitty gritty I’ve left running around my head this past week, instead of my pages., It’s my love life, or lack there of, that will be the object of humor seeing as though my “Male Grooming” Focus group proved to be nothing more than the easiest $75 I’ve ever made.

The summer is only six weeks away and that means two different, yet equally important birthdays are soon upon us. Mine is one of them, where I will have to change the description of this blog to a 25 year olds’ battles of the Big Apple. The second is more important and should be and probably will merit a much more grand celebration. On June 28th, 2006 I will raise a glass (shot, pint, wine or martini) in the air as I mark the completion of my second year in New York City.

I don’t know any other city or state that people remember the exact move date like people do with New York. If you ask most, especially those who were not raised, grew up, or went to school in the tri-state area, more times than not they will be able to tell you the exact date they embarked on the safari that is this concrete island.

A lot has changed in the time I’ve spent here in New York. I have changed in every way imaginable but hope that my core, my values, the meat and potatos that make me, me are still strong and as constant as they always have been. Sadly there is one element of my life that is the exact same…It is the same now as it was when I arrived, it is the same today as it was yesterday and the day before and the day before that and so on…I’m still single.

Now, in the grand scheme of things, that’s completely fine by me. Had you asked me two years ago if I would be single, I would have probably have not only said yes, but bet large sums of money on the fact that I would be. It has been for most of my adult life part of what makes me ‘Just Some Guy.’

However, as general as that pseudo name may be, I feel that I’m anything but that…I don’t think I’m one archetype or one male lead seen on a screen before now. That wouldn’t be any fun if we all fell into molds of the characters we so closely relate to on TV and in Film. We’d know how our story ended. We’d know that we end up with Carrie, or that we would confess our love to Sally on New Year’s Eve. As frustrating as falling for the wrong girls who never seem to give me a chance to fail or succeed, over and over again, I can honestly say that I’m not ready to jump to the last page of this book…not yet.

Thanks for listening

Dont' Call It A Comeback!

For some reason, I’ve found the writing is a lot like going to the gym. Well, sort of…Once you get in a routine, getting your butt to the gym every day or every other day, it’s easy. It’s easy because it you just do it. But on the flip side, skip a day and it’s a lot easier to skip the next day, and so on and so on…

And just like that, “I can do anything” good feeling I get after a great work out, I get that same type of rush after writing a post I’m proud of…but as you can tell I have lost that loving feeling of late. Well not anymore, I’m back baby!

I wish I would have had a more eventful weekend to write about, but with weather that looked a scene out of A Perfect Storm, it was pretty damn low key. After a work week that consisting of all things, a “Department Re-Organization” a weekend of quality couch time was well needed and desired.

I guest bartended on Friday night at my local watering hole, Third and Long. The happy hour crowd came a little later than expected and left a little earlier than desired. That being said it wasn’t a very busy evening. In what was the first day of a wet weekend, I’m using that for the reason behind a weak showing from my friends.

Saturday was much like Friday night, very slow and very wet. I don’t think there are any two qualities that make for a better nap so that’s just what I did. I did however muster up enough energy to get my butt back to the gym. I’d be lying if I didn’t say my sudden motivation comes from the fact that I’m headed back to Arizona, the land of the beautiful and always in shape, in just a few weeks.

I have a Focus Group this evening that is centered around Shaving, so I’m plan on having plenty of material for tomorrow’s post.

Thanks for listening