I never wanted the weekend to end! The Cape is too perfect for words.
AC and I prepped out before the L family BBQ. Corn on the Cob... Mmm!
This point-and-twist dance move encompasses everything about ML that weekend... ;-)
Yesterday, in another marathon trendfest, I joined 14 of my closest pals for dinner at 5 Ninth, the meatpacking district brownstone-turned-eatery that serves rabbit. Yes. Rabbit. Thankfully, the poor bunny platter did not grace the restaurant week menu, which left room for a good chunk of obscure yet delicious dishes to select from. Choosing between an anchovy-draped romaine chunk, a bowl of corn chowder, and veal and duck pate for my appetizer, I dreamt of my Speedy, and, remembering that cellulite is one of the main ingredients in corn chowder, opted for the pate, despite the other KR’s description of it as something her darling pooches Milo and Ladybug chow down on. Fueled by a pre-dinner cocktail drunk at the fabulously relaxed Art Bar (thanks for the suggestion, NB, I’ll definitely be back!), I dared to order the pate. Our kooky waiter whose ‘70s-style hair was begging for a make-over looked thrilled at my courage. When it arrived on my plate, looking exactly like a fancy feast for Fido and friends, the table of onlookers could not help but stare as I spread the meat mush on a piece of toasted bread, ready to either indulge or regurgitate. I definitely did not do the latter, but rather scraped my plate of pate clean, just a little more gracefully than the aforementioned papillon and long-haired daschund.
As the courses continued, our meal only got better. From sweet pepper glazed salmon, to juicy steak, to pork and chickpeas, the restaurant week-sized portions (read: three bites that would leave even a ballerina starving) were simply scrumptious. We devoured our plates as we discussed dessert: a chocolate concoction that tasted even better than raw brownie mix. Topped with a dollop of whipped cream and whole chunks of delectably dark chocolate, the treat was the perfect ending to a perfect dinner.
But the madness did not stop there! As a group of fierce females (and one ever fiercer male!) obviously obsessed with those crazy NYC housewives, we couldn’t help but walk a bit down Little West 12th to the Brass Monkey, where the other KR, ML, RJ, and AC contemplated re-enacting the season two scene in which Kelly Bensimon and Bethenny Frankel duke it out like middle school mean girls in one of the Irish bar’s booths. No slaps occurred, however. We’re a bit classier than the skinny girl chef and model has-been.
Missing out on the collection of what SA called a “collection of Irish lads,” as I made a fashionably early exit so as to be in tip-top shape for work the next morning, I couldn’t help but think about Manhattan’s unique neighborhoods. Each enclave has a personality that is as distinct as my collection of friends. (Despite hailing from LI’s most impenetrable bubble, we’re actually a pretty diverse group!) The Meatpacking district is the girl who wears black shorts over black tights with an extra-long white button down -- a look tied together with patent leather peep-toe pumps and a men’s wear blazer, despite the 85 degree heat made worse by subtropic humidity. In short, it’s a neighborhood that is almost too trendy for my pearls and Jack Rogers to enter, but one I enjoyed immensely nonetheless. And speaking of that outfit -- which AC, ML, and I most certainly passed an envied while heel-toe-ing it to the subway -- it just might drive me to channel my inner meatpacker... once my soon-to-be better looking bod is Speedy worthy, of course!
as we departed the Cape, monsoon (a.k.a I-95) bound, we made a little road map to our dream sizes. The map features three “mini” stops along the way that reward each time we reach minor milestones. (A facial, a massage, a bonus pedicure, a sushi date… The list is endless!) Then, once we reach our final “destination,” we will reward ourselves with the dream purchase of our choice. AC’s is a chic LV Speedy. Mine and ML’s are TDB, but the Speedy sounds nothing but dreamy… So far, in its two-day trial (hehe) the system has been tres effective. Picturing myself enjoying a delightful massage makes a decadent chocolate treat seem far less appetizing; an extra chip too greasy to touch. It makes an extra five minutes on the tredmill of death a bit more lifelike; waking up 30 minutes earlier for an AM run worth the while.With Thomson Reuters’ midtown office located just a hop, skip, and sprint over the subway grates away from Bryant Park, afternoon dining under the shade of a tree is one of my favorite things about working in Times Square. It’s the perfect way to escape for an hour in the middle of the day, away from work and out of central air conditioning. Today’s park-side lunch, despite the cloudy sky, was especially excellent, as it completely resurrected the theatre nerd within me that flourished during the height of my high school years, in which my live viewings of Rent and Legally Blonde reached double- digits. Broadway in Bryant Park is a precious little afternoon treat. Today’s set made me want to rock out to Rock of Ages, re-add the masterpieces of Wicked to my shower-singing repertoire, and become the nanny to Mary Poppins’ supercala-whatever babysitting charges. With less than a month to go before I resume my role as a Stonehill sasspot, I MUST MUST MUST make my way to the following shows:
Rock of Ages, if only to sing along with amazingness that is a cover of Poison’s “Nothin’ But a Good Time.”
Jersey Boys, if only to relive my first JB experience with my favorite Jersey Girl and fellow blogger, SA.
Hair, if only to [vicariously?] rock some tye dye and bathe in peace, hope, and love.
Next to Normal, if only to feel better about the insanity that is my own life. ;-)
I think it can be done! I’m a slave to TKTS!
In other news, the new Raybans I so fancy are IMPOSSIBLE to find in the flesh. Both Lord & Taylor and the Marquis Sunglass Hut offered to sell me the floor pair, but that so does not fly with me! I plan on making an appearance at the Herald Square and K-Town locations post-work to continue my hunt, as I planned on debuting the new look for my weekend trip to the Cape, where, I must add, the forecast is for a sunny 75 all weekend long!!! Here's to lobster bakes and evenings on yachts... Le sigh!
My hamstrings hate me, my arms are angry, my legs loathe life, and my quads want to quit -- but all in the name of getting fit! My summer of happy hours and weekend getaways has not been a friend to me where clothing sizes are concerned, so in an attempt to breathe some life back into garments that are approaching the too tight and trashy look of a Jersey Girl’s jeans, I have put myself on a strict exercise regimen for the remainder of the summer, since – let’s be real! – I enjoy thrice-weekly happy hours and restaurant week dinners far too much to “cut back.” Breaking into my collection of clippings from Fitness and Shape magazine, I have been testing out some new moves, designed to “whittle that wasteline,” among other things, in 
addition to making appearances at P-Fit whenever possible. But gym and magazine moves aside, I have come to love the convenience that stems from a good work-out video. While Denise Austen’s enthusiasm is a tad over the top (“Yeah! You can do it! You’re gonna look GREAT! Keep it up! One more rep! Yeah!”), and Mari Windsor’s possee of Pilate-ing back-up exercisers dangerously jealousy-inducing, Keli Roberts’ Kickbox Bootcamp is far too fabulous to complain about. A DVD of five 10-minute workouts designed to shape and sculpt while burning fat, the program is truly great. Basic Training, Washboard Abs, Ultimate Buns and Thighs, Arm and Shoulder Sculptor, and Fat Burning Blast, the five quick sessions that compile the DVD, all leave me feeling extra energized, albeit dreadfully sore and sweaty. Who doesn’t love getting a serious work-out in just ten minutes? It’s like a fitness miracle. And at a sweet $7.99 on Amazon, buying it is a no-brainer. Plus, with Keli’s crazy kicks and punches, you’ll be armed and ready in your fight stance if an attacker approaches! Pow! Just embrace the “I can’t walk” feeling that will follow. I imagine fitting into the Lilly dress and Joe’s Jeans I purposefully bought too small… Here’s hoping!
As much as I try to be trendy, I always fall back to my old favorites, hence the seersucker explosion that has demolished my room thanks to credit card overload on rubgy.com. Granted, I do get a slight rush when I embrace my inner NB and rock my outrageous brown boots, fresh from a Florence alleyway leather shop, with some sort of crazy scarf, but my comfort will always lie with popped collars that expose tie silk or embroidery and any and all items under the umbrella of prep and pink. This little intro, aside from plugging NB’s new role as a Pronto fashion blogger, is meant to highlight a good post I read on Teen Vogue blog this afternoon. Check it out.
Here’s my commentary: In today’s economy, it is the responsibility of the recessionista to rummage the racks of vintage and thrift stores to sate the desires of the label lover within. In my times and travels, I’ve scoured a few hotspots, braving even the locations known for true homeless chic. Lilly gingham found me at a random Housing Works thrift shop; $10 Tory Burch flip flops were a sight for sore eyes (and feet) after braving a hike to 1st Avenue’s Tokyo 7; a no-name pink flowy number, perfect for days more bloat than bodacious, graced my presence at Cheap Jack’s. While dedicating another Sunday afternoon to thrift shopping this summer, I hope to visit Madison Avenue’s Encore, if only to touch a Chanel bag in the flesh while imagining which Upper East Side hotshot toted the bag in its previous life: the mistress of a high-profile laywer? The spoiled high school junior who is still cursing her failed casting call on NYC Prep? Ruth Madoff? I think that’s the most enjoyable part of a good second-hand piece: it had a life before you. Well, that and a drastic discount! No matter how hard I try to speckle my closet with accessorized ensembles more vintage and Vogue than Vineyard Vines, it’s rarely a successful operation. However, the fun in browsing makes for a tres enjoyable afternoon!
Damn paychecks... They're too tempting!
EDIT: I hit buy...
The additional 25% off sale items at RUGBY today was the distraction I needed to keep me from an eight-hour daydream about Quidditch matches, luck potions, and vicious villains. Three oxfords, one seer sucker top, and one rugby dress later, I’m just a few bucks poorer. The sale is incredible and saved me some big bucks! I am especially psyched for the seersucker top, pictured left, that will be a perfect compliment for white shorts and gold Jacks. After spying and having a subsequent love affair with it’s size two variation down in Union Square yesterday, I never though I’d reunite with the ruffles again, but alas, I will rock them proudly as soon as the package arrives!
Now for the Butter play-by-play: 
Appetizer: Shrimp bisque. Whole chunks of shrimp made for a life-changing soup. Yes. Life-changing soup exists.
Meal: Though there were only three, the dandelion and spinach ravioli were filling as anything. Swimming in a parmesan “creme fraiche” sauce, they were nothing but delectable.
Dessert: The richest chocolate cake of my life. Y. U. M.
Upon exiting, the promoters for the Crunch gym across the street offered me a free pass… Oh well. The family and I had a blast, chatting it up and relaxing as if we were on vacay, far, far away from the city, work, stress, and humidity. Mom and Dad felt oh so young among the tables of girlfriend posses and hot twenty-something dates. How precious!
Following the “I Saw Jill Zarin” high that never seemed to end (even still, I’m Cloud 9-ing it) was my wonderful weekend on Cape Cod. With the Falmouth sunshine came all the things that color a relaxing weekend, despite the fact that Residence Life forgot to leave me a key for my one-night-only Stonehill stop-over. Now, I love Stonehill just about as much as I love dear Jill, but I do NOT love the night shift secretary who said there was “Absolutely nothing she could do,” about my missing key, and that I, the 21-year-old Irish lass, fresh from nine hours at work and five hours in transit, would have to find another place to sleep. OK, Lady. It’s just about 11 PM, thankyouverymuch. I am stranded on a pitch black, semi-deserted campus that, despite knowing like the back of my hand, should not be the place to set up camp for the night. I showed her, though, and went where no one wants to go: I found a police officer myself and had him personally escort me to my room. No one messes with KR -- especially at Stonehill! Pow.
Moving on from my rant…
Falmouth brought sun and sand for the KR who needed to relax, go carts for the KR who needs to learn to drive, bumper boats and jumpy castles for the KR who needed to embrace her inner kid, team leading and goal setting for the KR who doesn’t know how to relax, kayak excursions for the KR who pretends to be outdoorsy, lobster ravioli for the KR who loves to indulge, and Bruno for the someone who does not want to admit to actually being KR. Sun, sand, and whole chunks of lobstery goodness aside (they were all perfection), Bruno put an uncomfortable (to say the least!) tone on the weekend. If you’re into obscene and excessive male nudity and jokes that cross one too many borders, definitely check it out. If you have any self respect or dignity, however, pop your own kernels and throw in a DVD. You’re missing nothing. All in all, it was an awesome weekend in which we planned in the morning and played in the afternoon. As the leaders of Stonehill’s Student Government, I can confidently say that we’re a diverse and skilled bunch that will definitely work well to make a difference for our school.
Following the non-stop weekend is this non-stop week. Yesterday’s SushiSamba dinner was delectable, and I imagine tonight’s trip to Butter to be so, as well. But spicy tuna and “gorgeous” soups aside, nothing compares to tomrrow’s 7:45 PM activity: HALF. BLOOD. PRINCE. I’ve already warned my co-workers that I’ll be doing laps around the office in preparation. Thursday will leave me time to hit the judgment free zone and run off the 20 pounds I’ve probably gained this summer, but of course that will go to waste, since OF COURSE another one of my friends won a free happy hour at Calico Jack’s.
I’m thinking of subletting a studio next door to the 2nd Ave. gem. Wouldn’t that just make life so much easier?! Psh. In another world...
If you’re one of my loyal readers, you might recall an older post that detailed the “famous” people I’d like to meet. It was a pathetic list ridden with reality stars, but a list that brought me joy nonetheless. SO. This afternoon, while booking it down 43rd Street by way of 7th Ave. while wearing my favorite ruffly green top, black capris, and sky high pink heels (I was feeling colorful), who do I cross paths with but Woodmere’s most famous redhead: the hottest housewife of the Upper East Side, JILL. ZARIN. Strutting in black pumps, a black skirt suit, and gi-normous black sunglasses, the unmistakable red locks disabled the Bravo star’s attempt at disguise soon enough for me to literally stop in my tracks and stare the woman down. The tiny little thing walks like a true New Yorker at a pace so fast that you’d never know that her heels were elevated four inches above the ground. It was the best three seconds of my week, which says a lot after yesterday’s epic-in-length Happy Hour. Now I can only hope that the Twitter-addict doesn’t tweet something like, “Some starstruck girl in fluorescent footwear looked at me like I had eleven heads while I was walking towards Times Square this afternoon.” Keep your fingers crossed.
Of course, upon seeing her, I proceeded to BBM, call, and carrier pigeon anyone and everyone who would appreciate my sighting, which thankfully happens to be the majority of my security blanket’s phonebook. Squealing to AC and KR and JB and SA that I SAW JILL ZARIN did not help me make friends as I headed towards UBS to dine with BT and friend. People looked at ME like I had eleven heads. But I don’t care. I SAW JILL ZARIN. Next mission: TALK to her. Shopping trip to Zarin Fabrics, anyone?
I’m Stonehill bound in a few hours and absolutely can’t wait. Have an amazing weekend, everyone!
PS, I SAW JILL ZARIN.
For anyone who actually enjoys a good commercial, print advertisement, or way out-of-the-box method of promotion, this “ironic” post on The Consumerist will add a little light to your Thursday morning. (It’s freezing in New York. Wah!) Showcasing the top ten most ironic ads of “all time,” the post recounts the “wonders” of asbestos and the “saving powers” of Distaval, to name a few. Just take a look at what was promoted back in the day! Yikes!
Reservations for restaurant week are just piling up, making space in my calendar impossible to find for the month of July. But I thrive on being over-booked, so I say bring it on! So far, I’m up to three nights of three-course dining! While I’ve already been to SushiSamba and Butter before, they were both too good to visit just once. SushiSamba is drenched in colorful mosaic wall prints and draping; its basement bathroom is like a jungle safari. Butter mysterious and dark, with a cave-like atmosphere that takes you out of the city and into a futuristic world of beautiful people and prettier pastas. They're polar opposites in terms of ambiance, but equally fabulous. (Thankfully, the ‘rents will be picking up the tab at Butter. Phew.) Finally, a 14-person reservation at 5 Ninth will close out my dining experiences. 5 Ninth, the meatpacking district brownstone townhouse turned trendy eatery, was once the home of tranny hookers and heroin addicts. Our loud and fabulous group just might outshine the stories that lie within the bricks. I like to think that’s a good thing, though! =)
Back-to-back four day weeks are the best. After a weekend of funning and sunning on various parts of geographical Long Island for the 4th (side bar: when I move to Brooklyn, I can still call myself an Island girl!), I am now headed to Cape Cod for a Stonehill-packed weekend of kayaking and beyond. I’ll pretend to be outdoorsy, and then be the first to shower after getting all icky in the bay. Beach-side sessions are planed, too, of course, with the fun times mixed in with the official reason for the trip: as Stonehill’s Exec. Sec., as I like to say, I get treated to a weekend-long “retreat” on the Cape, in which the waterfront hotel stay and lobster dinners are both paid for, assuming the seven of us E-Board-ers do our professional duties. I packed pens. I’m all set.
Don’t you just love where your $42,000 a year are going? =)
We've been from Zoom to Thomson Reuters; from atop horses in Wales to canal-side in Amsterdam; from the steps of the Eiffel Tower to the dungeons of the Cabinet War Rooms; from the statue of David to the graffitied walls of Manhattan; from a closet of an room in Canterbury to a Stonehill house filled with too much personality. A blog that was once my connection to home during my three months of "studying" abroad has now become my little escape as I pack my summer days with almost too much to handle. If you read, you're fabulous. If you comment, you're better. 100 posts later, I'm still blogging strong, and far too hooked to stop any time soon.
With a weather forecast that predicts more sun for the 4th of July weekend than June saw altogether makes me happy as a clam for the upcoming celebrations the next few days will hold. Tonight marks the long awaited R family pub crawl. But best of all, after far too many sprints back to Penn Station after nights on the town, I need not worry about catching a train before the dreaded 4:14 AM choo choo. It pays to have relatives with hotel connections: the young and fabulous members of the R family will be shackin’ up in Midtown Manhattan for the night! This marks my first official slumber on the New York island I dream of calling home some day. With festivities that begin at 5 PM, I already foresee the day dragging a bit, but am confident that the evening will make up for it!
With back-to-back barbecues for the rest of the weekend, I won’t have as much time to dedicated to crucial weekend errands, such as catching up on Weeds and organizing my shoe collection. (HA.) I can’t complain, though. I will be rocking the aviators, sitting in the sun, and celebrating anything and everything my favorite summer holiday is about!
…and that is a perfect transition to my next topic of discussion: my current outfit. After weeks of waiting, I am finally rocking my new Vineyard Vines white button down that is accented on the cuffs and collar with flag-printed silk. I had to save it for the special occasion. With red shoes to match, I feel like Betsey Ross. How friggin’ patriotic is that? God Bless America. Make sure to rage the weekend away.
PS, this was my 99th post. Yowza!