Back to Work

not much, just me

2009-05-10T06:19:00.001-07:00

City Christmas

2008-12-23T20:32:00.000-08:00

The one good thing about not having a job yet is that sometimes I get to watch Regis, which always makes me feel like I’m still in New York. The other day Regis did a video piece about Christmas in New York City at Night showing: the beautiful lit snowflake @ intersection of 57th/Fifth Avenue that leads to Tiffany’s, Bergdorf’s, Saks, Lord & Taylor Christmas window displays, Cartier store wrapped in a big red Christmas bow, Trump Tower Christmas tree hiding the waterfall, the dizzying lights of Tavern on the Green and of course, the Christmas tree and skaters at Rockefeller Center.

All of the sites Regis hit are a part of everyday New York City – anyone can enjoy them without getting tickets or waiting on lines, just walk by, view, drink in the city feeling, experience Christmas.

Here in Minneapolis there is no unifying Christmas icon where everyone can visit and feel the magic Christmas energy. The Holidazzle Parade isn’t it. Neither is the Macy’s Annual Holiday Show.

It’s like here in Minneapolis there is no Christmas season; it’s just winter. Unrelenting blustery dangerous cold cloudy darkness chilly freezing snow and ice for months and months. No visual Christmas break. I guess Minneapolis, the city, isn’t set up for it.

City life here in Minneapolis is different – no one spends time downtown unless they are earning a paycheck – don’t stay even a minute longer – don’t live there. Gotta drive back to comfy suburbs. I dunno, I guess it’s not fair of me to compare the two cities.

It’s just that ever after all this time I still can’t find what I miss about New York City here in Minneapolis. I just miss it.

Questions about ‘Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist’

2008-10-06T13:47:00.000-07:00

This contrived romance between a poor high schooler from Hoboken and a rich catholic school girl from Englewood left me with too many questions. Do you know how far apart just in miles those two cities are? How would they have met, let alone dated for six months? Plus, the conceit that a Jewish girl, one whose dad owns Electric Lady no less, goes to that same catholic school? And she can’t make her own mix tapes? Those three catholic school girls wouldn’t be slumming it in the village or Williamsburg every weekend. And about the Village, do you really think it’s so desolate, even overnight? Where are all the NYU students, let alone real, diverse people are who share the streets, and where are all the cars, meaning specifically, parked cars? Why would those teens, number one, have driven into the city in the first place and number two, have driven in two separate cars? In real life they would have taken the Path train. How do those supposed teens always find not only parking spots, but parking spots that they can pull right into, not have to back-park or double-park? Every single time? Even midtown? Come on. Did they ever hear of a metrocard? And come on, that band got a gig in the city? And the guy was blasé about it? And nobody, absolutely nobody had an accent?

These spoiled NJ ‘bridge and tunnelers’ are unconvincing as being anywhere near actual high school age who live in a sanitized alternate universe where they roam NYC among their own pack, mixing with no others. How dare this flick encourage female abandonment not once but twice? And considering the driving plot point was to find some band but not Norah’s drunk girlfriend, the misplaced tension was annoying. Why did I care about where drunk girl will end up more than her bff did? This movie has a desperately needed makeover moment for the lead girl, but why would the guys conveniently have had a stash of girls’ underwear in their van? Since when does being gay = cross dressers?

The best line, which was said by likeable Michael Cera, “This is not a cab, my friend, I assure you.” was spent in the trailer. And no one is drunk enough to think that yellow mess of a car might be a cab.

The only piece of this movie that rang true was the lead character’s sincere angst suffering the pain of his broken heart, down to his giving in to the temptation of reconnecting with his former girlfriend at the expense of a possible new connection. Too bad this story didn’t stick to real emotions like that instead of trying to create a teen reality that isn’t.

Where in the world is Gaza?

2008-10-01T08:07:00.000-07:00

Thank you, Katie Couric, for showing us that Gov. Sarah Palin does not know who Hamas is, let alone Fatah, nor does Palin know where Gaza is or its significance in the political or real world.

We Americans shouldn’t be surprised that Palin is so stupid because being a U.S. Governor doesn’t necessarily suggest that you are intelligent. Best example: former Minnesota Governor Jesse “The Body” Ventura.

But the stakes are higher for the presidency – don’t the American people get that? You can’t cram the intelligence necessary to fill someone in on the complexities of the West Bank (and I’m not talking about at the University of Minnesota campus) in a Schoolhouse Rock-ish boot camp. At her age either you know stuff or you don’t.

Senators McCain, Obama and Biden are all well versed in the political facts of the world; Gov. Palin isn’t. How dare McCain pull a stunt like this on our country, offering such an imbecile as a potential leader of the free world, our country, just so he has one last chance at obtaining his personal brass ring.

Paul Newman, humanitarian

2008-09-29T11:57:00.000-07:00

A family story of ours is that Paul Newman liked to drink beer so much that he kept a beer can opener around his neck on a chain. My dad got to meet Paul Newman through my dad's army buddy, the actor Rip Torn, when both Rip Torn and Paul Newman were starring in Tennessee William's "Sweet Bird of Youth" on Broadway. That's when my dad took this picture, as he watched them play softball in the Broadway Show League in Central Park.

Because of this story, I started out with this kind of negative vision of Paul Newman, but as I grew up I made up my own mind that, first of all, I loved watching Paul Newman in movies, but second of all, because of his devotion to philanthropy and what I found out to be his all-around good-guy-ness, Paul Newman became a hero of mine.

So Paul Newman, you are still my hero. May you rest in peace.

Palin's crash course in the real world

2008-09-24T07:16:00.000-07:00

Sarah Palin in the Big Apple, desperately cramming to earn some international experience points by sitting in the same room with a wave of world leaders, seems to be a moose out of water.

Please let’s hope some of the city’s fashion style will rub off on her. Maybe a visit to Astor Place Hairstylists might bring her and that schoolmarmish twisty hairbun with bangs thingie closer to the 21st century? just sayin’

Make up your own minds, ladies

2008-09-21T05:35:00.000-07:00

Working women with children – the swing vote – why is this segment classified as either Wal-mart moms or hockey or more likely, soccer moms? And why is this segment so flexible or difficult to predict voting-wise? Are working women with children (WWWC) unable to read the paper and/or unable to decide their own political views themselves? Instead they can only identify with a candidate of the female persuasion, even disparate figures as Hillary, Sarah and Michelle and Cindy? Each of these women has a discernible position on politics; they are not interchangeable. So why can’t WWWC just choose to support a candidate who melds with her own views, rather than who shares her genes?

And by the way, I’d like to know why WWWC are declared to be Wal-mart moms, which is possibly about the most opposite of classy you can get. Can’t WWWC be labeled as Macy’s moms, or orchestra moms? Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.

I was a willing shill for Time Magazine at the 2008 RNC

2008-09-17T00:26:00.001-07:00

People who know me were surprised I applied to become a Time Magazine intern during the 2008 Republican National Convention over in St. Paul because they are aware of my liberal, democratic leanings. They shouldn't have been, why?

Well, first, journalists learn to report any and all sides of stories. Second, who wouldn’t want to be part of the action at an event so exciting coming to this twin cities burg? Third, come on – Time Magazine! I want to top my meager resume with something more pertinent to my newly minted J-school degree than COACH Sales Assistant at Macy's, plus get some photo scoops and ultimately meet and impress my future potential employers.

During my job interview I was promised ‘gavel to gavel’ total access to the convention and I naively believed that would be so (it wasn't). It would be sweet to promote Mark Halperin’s political blog The Page for Time Magazine to the mass of media, trading a BlackBerry link to The Page for a Time T-shirt that says either ‘Experience’ or ‘Change’. I could not wait.

Quickly, reality set in. First, Hurricane Gustav hit land and took the wind out of the sails of the politicos. Important people stayed away - The Pres and his cronies, Ahhnold, Brad Pitt, whoa, Brad Pitt? Yup. I had inside knowledge that Brangelina got security clearance to attend the RNC and I even blogged it to PositivelyCelebrity.com. I was so sure that I'd meet them, but they were no shows.

I also blogged about Jon Stewart and guess what - he showed up to Starbucks every morning like clockwork, working the crowd like the likeable guy that he is on The Daily Show, but I always "just missed" him. Rats.

Our intern world was a mix of luxury feasts at the St. Paul Hotel contrasting with Subway sandwich lunches; we mingled with media, beat cops and secret servicemen, and watched violent anarchists upset peaceful protesters.

I feared those dangerous protester invasions. Their violence was unforgiveable and irrelevant to the convention but I always felt safe thanks to the powerful law enforcement presence.

It was little bit frustrating working with my fellow U of M journalism school cohorts, as it was during my entire duration of going to school with them, since they are truly clueless about current events, the news and politics. We interns were there to represent the future of journalism, yet they never got Mark Halperin's name right when we were engaging people in the crowd, nor did they ever even read his blog to prepare for our stint, thus they were always uninformed with the news in general and his blog in particular, and more important, they never recognized Mark himself whenever he came by talking to us to ask how it was all going.

I got to roam the Xcel center, but only within media row, and not all the time. My main station was in beautiful Rice Park where MSNBC set up shop. That was fun watching their broadcasts. I was even on TV a lot but just front line crowd, proudly wearing The Page shirt which counts as promotion!

Fred Thompson, Bob Schieffer, Donna Brazile, Bob Woodward, Tom Brokaw, Luke Russert, Norm Coleman, various MSNBC anchors . . . These are some the most famous people I got up close to, none of whom anyone else I was interning with had any consciousness of, trust me. I tried to clue them in but it was futile.

I boldly walked up to Donna Brazile as a pure fan. Before I said my spiel she picked up right away that I had shirts of Mark Halperin’s, whom she said is a good friend of hers. She was super nice to me.

But when I asked a girl I was interning with if she would please take my picture with Luke Russert, she said sure, but who is he? Luke actually talked to me for a while, maybe five minutes. I was asking him stuff about Denver, about his MSNBC gig, if he had ever been here in Minneapolis/St. Paul before (yes, a long time ago his dad brought him here to be a ball boy for the St. Paul Saints minor league baseball team). Eventually some of the other girls I was interning with came over to talk with him, urging him to go drinking with them that night in Dinkytown. Of course, they didn't have a clue who he was; they just thought he was the cutest, youngest guy who must be important cause he was wearing a suit.

At our goodbye breakfast conversation turned to what we all thought about Sarah Palin's speech or what we thought about her in particular. Cue the chirping crickets. I was about to give my two cents when one girl offered that she hated Palin's voice. When prodded for elaboration, she just repeated her opinion using that distinctive Minnesota twang.

So interning for Time Magazine at the RNC was both disappointing and exciting. Too bad local boy Governor Tim Pawlenty was passed over in favor of McCain’s ‘soul selling’ shocking pick, Sarah Palin.

It’s been said that Palin’s convention speech was originally written for Pawlenty by McCain's main speechwriter, Matthew Scully, and had to be "de-masculine-ized" at the last minute. Palin didn't write a word of it, but she sure did memorize and read it well. And yeah, her voice is hard to take.

My take on Palin? I have read and continue to read every single word written about her and her brood. Palin doesn’t think like me or vote like me. From what I can tell of her messy life she is a conniving, a smug, greedy, vengeful, power-mad moron. Apparently Todd Palin sits in on all her meetings, weighing in on oil decisions. Her husband can’t be trusted and he seems to be the power behind their rural throne. That pair of bullies will be doomed once the bright lights shine on them and uncover their now-hidden truths.

I love the whirlwind that is politics.

Jon Stewart is coming to town!

2008-08-28T11:08:00.000-07:00

As much as I love Jon Stewart and Comedy Central's "The Daily Show", it might be tough for Stewart to reconcile his connection to the common man while residing at the hippest hotel in the Twin Cities during the Republican National Convention next week. Rooms go for $400 and up at the brand new W Minneapolis - The Foshay where it's been reported Stewart will be staying. This hotel hotspot touts Manny's Steakhouse and the even cooler Keys Café, along with a 28th floor perch to view all 360 degrees of Minneapolis. The Foshay is even more highfalutin than the spot McCain and Co. will cool their heels - The St. Paul Hotel.

That's ok, Jon, the welcome mat is out for you. Keep poking holes into the bloated balloon of pomposity that is the Republican Party. Thanks for that and thanks for making us laugh while you do it.

Another Loser

2008-08-13T20:41:00.000-07:00

Well, Pretty Boy former politico John Edwards fell for gold digging, Rielle Hunter, formerly known as Lisa Druck, when they met at a NYC bar one day a few years ago where he said he was having a "meeting". When somebody explained to Hunter, probably Pretty Boy himself, just how important and rich he was, she figured out a way to get Americans who believed in this "real" man to pay for her to follow him around with a camera 24/7. Too bad Party Girl didn't get us to pony up for some film and editing classes too from the results of her four costly Webisodes that are just too boring to sit through.

So now Ken Doll Edwards is trying to say he's sorry for giving the impression that he has created another family with this bimbo outside of his marriage. His 'sorry' isn't convincing. The more I read about their tawdry relationship, the more it makes me sick. As a citizen I was fooled by his family image. What a loser he is. Why am I surprised?

Here's my suggestions for casting the inevitable Hollywood movie:

John Edwards: George Clooney (Edwards wishes!)
Elizabeth Edwards: Reese Witherspoon
Druck: Cameron Diaz

The Pink House

2008-08-05T19:57:00.000-07:00

Paris Hilton Responds to McCain Adfunny videosFunnyOrDie.com

Paris is funnier and smarter than we thought.

Bike Fluff

2008-08-02T04:13:00.000-07:00

I am such a slug.

There is no good reason for me not to have yet taken my cute white Schwinn down from its hooks inside the safe bat cave of our garage. I miss riding my bike. I didn’t learn to ride a bike ‘til we moved from Brooklyn to the Long Island suburbs when I was eight. And then, my bike was a 28" doozy for some reason, way too large for a little girl. It was no surprise that I promptly broke my ankle and suffered through a full-length cast during those first summer months. My healed limb pedaled my new white 24" birthday bike, racing "no-hands" down suicide hill.

Bike riding is scarier today. All around Minneapolis bikes compete with cars and both lose. I admit that I get frustrated when bicycles travel right in the car lane and I have to drive 5 mph behind them. There aren’t enough bike lanes. Period.

On CBS Sunday Morning Selena Altschul did a segment about the timely resurgence of commuting cyclists, but I deem it a fluff piece. Altshul seemed gaga over her bike-riding partner, Sam Adams, making the charismatic mayor-elect of Portland, Oregon out to be some kind of cycling messiah, concentrating on the positive aspects of bicycling, like being eco-friendly, saving money, dropping pounds.

I found the piece lacking, never touching on other sides to cycling – riding with bad weather, getting to work all sweaty, avoiding parked cars’ suddenly-opening doors? Adams glossed over two recent cyclist deaths, merely using them as a pitch for upgraded street markings. Why didn’t Altschul mention the whole controversial bicycle advocacy effort Critical Mass that is fraught with danger?

New York Magazine did a wonderful piece called Ghost Riders, about the Ghost Bike phenomenon. How could Altschul not have been aware of this haunting social movement? Now my lifetime series of white bikes takes on a whole new meaning.

Anyways, I think it’s time I released my bike from its cozy cocoon and get some riding done before the snow flies next month.

How did I get here?

2008-07-29T10:39:00.000-07:00

For the past three years I have made my presence known on Facebook and MySpace, warned by my new college friends that it's the only way we'll be able to stay in touch with each other after graduation. Well, I just graduated! and my links to those important school friends with whom I enjoyed varying degrees of closeness have not always stood the test of time. Despite good intentions and earnest promises, I am losing touch with them. I guess nothing can force friends to keep in contact with each other if our worlds change so drastically after graduation, or in some cases, after dropping out.

It was tough to go back to college as an adult, attending classes side-by-side with the youth of America. I was desperate to fit in within an institution where I didn't belong, within a state I don't belong. I even created a Web site persona as the Golden Gopher Girl as a way to take photos on campus with a purpose, to acclimate myself to my new school, the University of Minnesota. But my big surprise was the kindness of my classmates who beyond all logic did make me feel like I belonged. Many of these classmates grew to become real friends who got me through my terrifying and terrific struggle to get a degree, which I finally did this past May.

So now I'm set adrift into another unknown world, the world of unemployment in this still unfamiliar land of Minneapolis. I'm trying to find my footing during this short, not-so-hot summer, balancing my job search with getting our son Andrew ready to go away to college, TRAGIC!

I'll deal, somehow.

Camp NYU

2008-07-29T06:09:00.000-07:00

The urgency of the photo lineup of privileged parents seeking a first peek at their camp kids on visiting day drew me into the recent New York Times article about how parents obsess over their kids going to sleep-away camp, I have decided to view Andrew's imminent stint at New York University as being just that - summer camp that happens to occur during seasons other than summer. After all, the similarities are obvious - parents seem to have a harder time separating from their kids than kids do from their parents, from infancy on up, I'd say. Andrew will be entering an established culture that is set up to enable him to succed and flourish. Paul and I can visit him on parent's day and NYU makes it easy to stay informed with his life without giving away too much of his privacy, apparently just like summer camp. And NYU helpfully suggests companies we can support to keep Andrew supplied with student care packages, sure to ease his transition and ours with just a credit card click.

The scary difference, though, is that if I do this right, when his NYU camp is done, Andrew won't be coming back home. Instead he'll be on to his next adventure, most likely rooming with a few other starving grads in someone's sublet, then on to his very own apartment that might be no larger than some of his high school friends' bedroom walk-in closets, staying in the Big Apple to work.

I want to do this right so if my camp delusion is the only way I can let him go, then I better start putting those name labels in his boxers.