Bright Lights, Sweaty Armpits

Smoking in New York City

2013-05-16T09:43:00.001-05:00

Men--I'm going to share a little secret with you. There is one thing that is the biggest turn-off, like literally a deal-breaker. You can be handsome and successful and charming, but if you do this one thing, woman will go running for the hills.

I'm talking about smoking.

Last night, my girlfriends and I went to the Ava Lounge, a rooftop bar in Midtown that has absolutely gorgeous views of the city and Times Square. I loved the outdoor garden feel it provided. But we weren't there more than about 10 minutes before nearly every man started lighting up. Cigarettes...cigars, you name it. It was disgusting.

Beautiful view. The smell? Not so great

Perhaps we're spoiled by Mayor Bloomberg and NYC smoking laws that are some of the strictest in the nation, but we felt like this shouldn't be allowed. Can't you just enjoy nature and city views without lighting up?

Two dorky looking businessmen next to us were both smoking nasty cigars and of course, their smoke was blowing right in our faces. So with the courage of a few cocktails, I went up to them and asked them to kindly move because the smell was "so gross."

In their English accents, one said mockingly to me, "Our cigars smell so gross?" He smiled and they both laughed.

So I mocked him back with my best fake English accent, "That's right, they smell sooooo gross."

Neither one moved. I'm totally telling Prince William on them.

At this point, we can no longer breathe

Another man came up to our table to chat with us, and of course, he had a cigarette in his hand. We "politely" told him how gross he smelled and to please leave. Ha! Not the reaction he was hoping for, I'm guessing.

See men, is this what you want? Not only that, smoking makes your breath bad, your hands smell and lowers your sperm count. What part of that is attractive?

Sheesh. And you wonder why you're still single.

New York City living

2013-05-15T09:30:00.003-05:00

This is the "Friends" apartment. I bet it didn't smell

On the very small island of Manhattan, you're at the mercy of your neighbors. If they smoke, you second-hand smoke. If they love cooking with curry, your hair and clothes will make it smell like you do too. If they like to listen to loud mariachi music at midnight, you might as well fall asleep with maracas in your hand. And if the little old lady in apartment #4 smells like she's harboring dead bodies in her apartment, well, you may as well pray that you will eventually lose your sense of smell.

I have only seen our neighbor in #4 a handful of times. She will shuffle to the mailbox and back once a day, and that's it. When she comes out, she will only crack her door a small amount, but it's enough to see a hoarder's delight. Newspapers, magazines, trash...you name it. I joke that she's like the Pig-Pen character from Peanuts, and you can pretty much see the cloud of dirt and dust seeping from underneath her door.

But recently, the smell became worse. Like as soon as you opened the building's front door, the odor from her apartment smacked you in the face. And even though we live four floors above her, the smell was starting to seep upstairs. Not even our air purifier or endless plug-ins from Bath and Body Works could cover up the smell of death.

I started coming up with all sorts of scenarios. Did her cat die but she refused to say goodbye, therefore, Puss 'N Boots decayed on her kitchen table? Did her husband die, but she kept him around so she could collect his Social Security checks?

I called our landlord's office, and asked for them to do a welfare check on her, wondering if maybe she had gone to the great beyond. (Obviously not Bed, Bath & Beyond.) The office assured me she was alive and well (and probably in a rent-controlled apartment) and that there had been other complaints as well. So many, in fact, they had police and fire come do a welfare check, but she wouldn't let them into her apartment.

Yep, it must be a dead body.

Well, I'm not sure what finally happened, but Mike said he saw a cleaning lady working on her apartment recently. Can you imagine what that job was like? Alas, the smell is better and all that remains is a black pile of grime right outside her door, evidence of some sort of major clean-up.

Thank god.

Now what can we do about that potent urine smell on the sidewalks?....

Best New York City Apartment

2013-04-30T10:58:00.002-05:00

"In New York, you're always looking for a job, a boyfriend or an apartment." Carrie Bradshaw, Sex and the City

We have lived in our very small Upper West Side apartment for about five months now, so it's only natural to start looking at other places. New Yorkers joke that as soon as you find an apartment, you need to begin searching for the next one, because the competition is so fierce.

For awhile now, I've been eyeing the most perfect apartment building at the corner of West End Avenue and 86th Street that I'm absolutely drooling over. Look at how beautiful it is....


Courtesy: 535 West End Avenue

It's a pre-war building, but you can tell someone put some serious money into it, and now it's modernly elegant. I walk the dogs by it quite often and we always stop and stare (or pee).

So I decided to Google my little piece of heaven, thinking since it's in our neighborhood, I bet the hubs and I could at least afford a junior studio. Confirming that I've always had a champagne taste on a Kool-Aid budget, here is what I found is a typical floorplan...

Yep, you're reading that right. 7 bedrooms and 7.5 bathrooms! 8,451 square feet! In Manhattan! And yes, you're seeing an actual IN-UNIT washer and dryer. I didn't even know such luxury existed in the middle of the city. This apartment makes up the entire 10th floor. (And I bet their building doesn't always smell like dead cats and Chinese food.)

Sadly, I'm pretty sure this apartment's "sitting room" is larger than our entire apartment. (And I'm guessing if you're paying the rent on this baby, you're not doing a lot of sitting. Probably a lot of 20-hour days at the office??)

I couldn't help but wonder (like Carrie Bradshaw always did), how much would you have to pay for this kind of luxury? Based on my math, just the seven bedrooms alone would cost at least $17,500 a month, and that doesn't include the bathrooms, service hall, library or reception hall.

So, for now, I guess we'll have to stay in our little apartment while dreaming about the day we'll have a "Bedroom #2."

Eating out in New York City

2013-04-23T21:45:00.001-05:00

Eating out in New York City is not cheap. Heck, just "eating in" in NYC in not cheap. The first time I saw Apple Jacks selling for $8 a box, I nearly passed out. I mean, don't get me wrong, Apple Jacks are delicious, just not $8-a-box delicious.

But back to eating out. When cereal just won't cut it and I want a night out, like every other New Yorker, I'm faced with drinks ranging in price from $15-$18 and entrees ranging from $25-$35. Date night with the hubs or a night out with a girlfriend will easily run $100 or more. So imagine my surprise while eating out recently at a very nice Italian joint in Midtown and discovering that my bill was.... $0.

$0!

I was out to eat with a girlfriend at Nino's Tuscany on West 58th Street. We were finished with dinner and couldn't figure out why the server hadn't brought our check. I decided to hit the bathroom, and when I came out, my girlfriend told me that our dinner had already been paid for.

What??

Yep, turns out a regular guest sitting at the bar near us decided to treat us to dinner. He left by the time we found out...so he wasn't looking for praise or admiration... he just wanted to do something very nice for two women he didn't know.

It made my night.

Now in true "pay it forward" fashion, I probably should have paid for someone else's dinner that night. But are you crazy? I can't afford that! You see, I'm currently saving up for a box of Captain Crunch.


After our free dinner. At this point, I'm regretting that I didn't order another glass of wine.

Bernadette Peters New York City

2013-04-07T09:58:00.000-05:00

Well, that sure was fun.

The Thursday before last, I decided to treat myself to a mani/pedi. I usually do my own nails to save money, so this was a first in New York City. I Googled places in our 'hood and decided on Polished Beauty Bar at 78th and Broadway.

A few minutes after I arrived, another woman came in and stood right next to me. I couldn't see her face because she was shorter than me, had on a cute beret and was looking down to check her cell phone. Shortly after that, the nail tech told us both to go over to the pedi stations so we could soak our feet. As I waited for the woman to take off her cute boots, I looked up and noticed that she was none other than...are you sitting down? Bernadette Peters! I recognized her immediately and gave her a smile.

So there I was, sitting right next to an amazingly talented movie, TV and Broadway actress. What's a girl to do? The obvious 2013 answer is post it to Facebook.

Shortly after my Facebook post, I got a ping on my cell phone. The text was from a former co-worker who told me that one of our other co-workers used to date Bernadette. WHAT??? I replied that she had to be kidding, but nope, she replied back that indeed they dated and I just HAD to ask Ms. Peters about him.

Alright, why the heck not?

Relying on skills learned during my Interpersonal Communications class during my junior year of college, I observed the subject. She was making small talk with the nail tech, so she was obviously friendly and open to conversation. And she was done checking her text messages, so it was the perfect time. With my heart racing, I turned and said...

Me: "Um, excuse me. Can I ask you a really odd question?"

Bernadette: "Sure."

Me: "Do you know who John Doe* is?" (* Names have been changed to protect former co-workers.)

Bernadette: "What's the last name?"

Me: "Doe."

Bernadette: "Hmm, I don't think so. Where does he live?"

I explained to Bernadette that he lives in Fort Myers, Florida, but he used to live in Cincinnati, and maybe he lived in NYC too. As I was talking, I could see there wasn't the faintest bit of recognition.

My first thought was man, I feel so bad for John. He's not at all memorable to Bernadette!

I explained to Ms. Peters that I must have been mistaken and then I sit back in my chair and decide to leave her alone.

But then, Bernadette asked me if I used to live in Fort Myers. She wanted to talk...to me!!! She also asked about what I was doing in New York, about my husband's job, what my name is and even asked what nationality that is. We literally spent the next hour gabbing! She then totally gave me the inside scoop on all the best places to eat in NYC and about her upcoming performance on the TV show Smash. We were besties for the day.

It was the Coolest. Day. Ever.

As we were wrapping up our mani's (side by side of course) my heart started pounding because I wanted to ask her for a picture. I again observed my surroundings and decided that since we were the only two in the salon, I wouldn't create a frenzy of fans also wanting to get pics. So, I said...

"I want to ask you something, but please don't hesitate to say no if you don't want. But I would be mad at myself if I didn't ask. Can I get a picture with you?"

Bernadette: "Sure, why not? You can show our afternoon of girls gone wild." She then laughed.

Love that. We took a picture and it came out blurly, so Ms. Peters agreed to take another.

We wrapped up at the drying stations and I did what any starving writer does. I handed her my business card and told her to check out this blog. Ha! Maybe she's reading this now??

Oh and by the way--I found out later the story about Bernadette and my former co-worker is just a rumor that has been circulating throughout the Fort Myers newsroom for about 12 years. But hey, it got me an afternoon with an award-winning actress. Not too shabby.

Why are New Yorkers so rude?

2013-03-26T10:24:00.000-05:00

If there were hidden cameras capturing my every move a year ago or so, you would have seen me telling a girlfriend something like this....

"I would never live in New York. The people seem so rude there."

How did I know this? Well, there was the ONE time I had visited in 2009, and everyone was super rude. Well, that's not entirely accurate. It was really only actor Anthony Michael Hall, who told my girlfriends and me that he was NOT willing to take a photo with us because he hadn't shaved that day. Yeah, whatever.

Hot Chocolate = Nice New Yorker

Other than that, I actually remember super friendly people, including a woman who stopped me on the street to ask who made my dress, because she thought it would be cute for her bridesmaids. And then there was the very sweet bum, "Hot Chocolate" who danced in a conga line with all of us. (See pic)

Yep, that was the extent of my experience with NYC.

But, it's just common knowledge, right? If you asked anyone across the country to describe New Yorkers in one word, I'm guessing most would say "Rude."

Can I tell you what's happened in the past 1/2 hour to totally squash that?

A man just held a door open for me while giving me a head nod AND a "good morning."
A woman at the bus stop told me it was "nice to meet me" after we bonded while just missing (and running after) the M66 crosstown bus. And when the next bus came, she insisted I get on the bus first.

Can you believe this rudeness?

Let me just take a stab at what gives New Yorkers this reputation. We move and walk quickly. That's because we likely need to catch this traffic light...so we can catch that bus...to catch the next subway so we don't miss the ferry, and well, because of that, we move faster than anyone from say, oh I don't know, Akron, Ohio.

So, here's your mission. Stop badmouthing New Yorkers, or else "you's are gonna find yourselves sleeping with dem fishes."

Duggar Family Baby Annoucement

2013-03-11T16:56:00.001-05:00

Scrolling through my Facebook news feed this morning, I had to laugh at this post...

Perhaps it's my cynicism after years of working in television news, or instead just my general smart aleck personality, but I then posted this response...

Later I updated my thoughts to this: "If the Today Show really knew me, they'd know I'm much more "excited" when Honey Boo Boo drinks her go-go juice or the Situation takes home a grenade."

Here's the thing: I like reality TV as much as the next guy. In fact, I'm downright giddy over tonight's finale of the Bachelor. But I try not to watch shows that either a) showcase the decline of the human race or b) reward people for questionable behavior. You know which ones I'm talking about: Toddlers and Tiaras, 16 and Pregnant, Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo, Jersey Shore...the list goes on and on. I guess I'm what you'd call a reality show elitist.

Now, granted...the Duggars seem like a very sweet and loving family who have saved a boatload on birth control. And kudos to them for being able to remember 19 children's names that all begin with "J." But I'm not sure we should give a reality TV show to people just because they've had 19 Kids. Isn't that, oh I don't know, about 15 too many? (Ouch, I know. I'm preparing for nasty comments as we speak.)

How about this idea to shake things up...why don't we create a new show for the Duggar kids where they are forced to dress in leopard prints and "poofs" before competing in a Jersey Shore-style beauty contest. There will be three parts to the competition: body shots, grinding and t-shirt time. The least grenade-looking kid wins!

I like it...

New York City celebrity sighting

2013-03-07T10:49:00.001-06:00

My plan to pay more attention in New York City for possible celebrity sightings is working!

In my last blog, I told you how I almost missed seeing Whoppi Goldberg at brunch and I did miss seeing comedian Rob Riggle sitting right next to me because I had become like so many other New Yorkers: I was no longer making eye contact and I was busy in my own world. I realized that although this may have been keeping me from getting mugged, it wasn't helping my celebrity stalking.

So I vowed to myself I would start looking at people, right in the face, no matter how uncomfortable or foreign it felt. It starting working immediately. The next day at the gym, I saw a white-haired man in the corner of my eye who looked just like Steve Martin. I whipped my head around and did a double take. Sadly, it wasn't Steve Martin, but it was a 70's-ish man who thought I was checking him out and gave me a sly smile. Whoops! Oh well, at least I made his day.

And then on Sunday, I went grocery shopping with my mom at a local market on the Upper West Side that has beautiful flowers and fresh fruit. As we were checking out, I noticed the gentleman next to us looked very familiar. I quickly realized it was Jacques from Real Housewives of New York City. You know, the one dating the Countess LuAnn de Lesseps.

My mom and I finished and went outside when I told her, "Wait, there's a celebrity in there and I want to get my picture with him!" Although my mom thought I should leave him alone since it was a weekend and he was running errands, I thought it doesn't hurt to ask. I instructed her to take off her gloves and get ready to take the pic if he agreed.

He came out of the store and I said, "Jacques?"

"Yes?" He looked at me with a quizzical look, as if trying to figure out where we had met.

I told him even though I didn't want to bother him, I'd love it if he took a photo with me. He agreed! He then rubbed his hand over his stubble and said, "I hope I look alright!" I affirmed he did.

Jacques then asked if the picture was okay before getting on his bicycle and riding away. Later I Googled him and realized his net worth is estimated at $10 million. Isn't that cute that a millionaire rides a bike in NYC?

So hey, it's not like I ran into Robert DeNiro, but for a reality TV junkie like me, it was pretty darn exciting. Next goal: to have a glass of Pinot Grigio with Ramona Singer.

New York celebrity sightings

2013-02-27T09:04:00.001-06:00

When I first became a big city gal 3 1/2 years ago in Chicago, I realized I needed to ditch one small-town girl quality: being too friendly.

See, in Wyoming, people act differently. They look each other in the eye. They smile. They may say "hi there" or "howdy." At the very least, they give a little head nod and perhaps a tilt of the cowboy hat.

In Chicago and New York City? Not so much.

When I first moved to the Chi, I kept up my Wyoming ways by smiling at people passing by. I quickly learned that most men took this as a sign that I was hitting on them, and woman acted suspiciously, thinking I was trying to snag their purse or their man. It wasn't pretty. And it wasn't long before I became like everyone else and just kept to myself. Now, I wouldn't be able to give police a description of a mugger, because I never really look at anyone's face. And well, that's a problem.

See, in New York City, there are celebrities. Open up any US Weekly and you'll see that stars are everywhere. They are buying flowers at local deli's, eating pizza slices on the street and walking hand in hand with their latest loves. And at least one actor was hanging out in a NYC spa with Jeannie Crofts, only she didn't know it.

On Monday night, Mike and I went to Exhale Spa near Columbus Circle for some much needed pampering. Mike spent an hour getting a massage and I spent an hour getting a facial. As we were leaving, he said, "Did you see that guy next to you? That's that actor from 21 Jump Street. You know, the hilarious gym teacher. I think his name is Rob Riggle."

Um, no. Turns out that Rob not only checked out next to me, but I had spent about ten minutes with him in the relaxation lounge. He and his wife were both chilling, talking about their trip to NYC, their dinner plans for the next night and his wife's upcoming hair appointment. I was about six feet away from them as they drank water and kicked up their feet. And then when it was my turn to get my facial, I walked by them both. But in true New York fashion, I never looked at their faces, so I didn't make the connection.

It also turns about that I've seen Rob in a ton of movies and TV shows. The Hangover, 30 Rock, Saturday Night Live, Step Brothers, etc. I read that he started as a comedian and is super good friends with Will Ferrell. Here's the very funny taser scene from The Hangover where he plays the overzealous police officer.

He's so funny!

Oh, and did I also mention that I had brunch next to Whoopi Goldberg a few weeks ago? Yep, I never noticed until we were finishing and my mother-in-law said, "That woman has hair just like Whoopi Goldberg's. Her glasses are just like hers too. Wait, it is Whoopi Goldberg!"

Yep, I didn't notice, because I don't look at people at other tables.

So, needless to say, I'm changing my ways. I'm looking at everyone now! Sorry New Yorkers, I may make you uncomfortable, but it needs to be done. I can't risk getting a pedi next to Justin Timberlake and not knowing it.

Daniel Day-Lewis and Anne Hathaway

2013-02-25T17:20:00.003-06:00

Did you watch the Oscars last night? I thought they were great! I think my favorite part was the Sally Field sketch. As I tweeted, "Just when I thought I couldn't love Sally Field anymore." It's refreshing to see such a talented and well-known actress not take herself too seriously.

What made the show seem more personal is that my husband and I got to see several of the Oscar winners and nominees during the past few months. As part of the writer's guild, we got to go to movie premieres and hear many of the actors and directors describe the filming process and final outcome.

One of the coolest experiences was going to see "Lincoln" and then hearing Daniel Day-Lewis, Sally Field, Steven Spielberg, James Spader and others describe their experiences.

Daniel Day-Lewis (far left) is known for his method acting, which means he's fully in character during the entire filming process. He acknowledged that last night, thanking his wife for putting up with him saying, Rebecca "has lived with some very strange men," since they married 16 years ago. He also called her a perfect companion. So sweet! When we heard him chat, he said when he finishes a movie, he mourns the loss of the character.

Steven Spielberg (second from right) said throughout the movie, he called the actors by their character names to help them stay in the moment. He also let us in on a touching moment in Day-Lewis's trailer after filming had wrapped. He said as soon as Daniel spoke in his English accent versus his Abe voice, they both started crying, knowing they had to leave Lincoln behind that day.

Here's Steven Spielberg describing the 16th President.

We also got to listen to Oscar winner Anne Hathaway along with director Christopher Nolan and actor Michael Caine at the premiere of The Dark Knight Rises. Many movie critics believe the movie got snubbed from any Oscar nods, especially since the movie's prequel, The Dark Knight, won several awards in 2008.

Two observations: Michael Caine is hilarious and Anne Hathaway seems a bit shy. Here she is talking about preparing for her fighting scenes in seriously high-heels.

Congrats to all the winners, especially Argo for Best Picture. What a great heart-pounding movie!

New York City living

2013-02-21T09:42:00.005-06:00

When describing Manhattan to people living in smaller towns, I notice their eyes get wide as I describe daily life. Things such as taking the subway late at night, schlepping laundry to the laundromat, or getting yelled at by a crazy homeless person usually elicits the same kind of response, "Oh, my."

For my husband and I who both grew up in smaller towns in Wyoming and Ohio, our parents share a mixture of excitement for our new adventure combined with absolute fear of big city life. After we moved, I noticed both sides quickly booked trips here so they could scope out our new 'hood.

For my side, I flew home to Wyoming and spent a week with the fam and then flew back to NYC with my mom and step-dad. I was excited to show them our Upper West Side neighborhood and our new digs, knowing that I could ease some of those fears when they saw how safe and clean everything is.

And then this happened...

When I came home from my week away, I was greeted by a spiderweb of shattered glass on our front door. It looks like someone kicked the glass to try and get in. Not exactly the image you're hoping to show your family the moment they walk in the door. I decided I would explain the bright side...the fact that the glass hadn't broken shows how thick it is, and therefore, how safe we really are. (Right?)

And then something else happened...

Later that night after my mom and step-dad were at their hotel, I was reading in the living room while Mike was asleep in the bedroom. I could hear some rustling outside our door. I looked through the peephole and saw a young man hunched over the railing. What in the world? Had he been shot? Then I saw bright-red projectile vomit coming from his mouth and landing all over our hallway. After he finished, he just walked away.

I opened the door and yelled, "Really buddy? You're just going to leave it?" (Apparently I'm a confrontational New Yorker now.) He did not respond.

When my parents came by the next morning to visit, they told me they had to step around four different piles of red vomit. Apparently this champ had thrown up on every floor while climbing to his 5th floor apartment.

Again, really buddy?

During breakfast, Mike and I explained that in several years of city living, we had never seen this happen before. (Come to think of it, this never even happened in college.) Oh, and we were pretty sure the landlord would fix the glass on our door quickly.

So much for making a good first impression. I'm just glad neither parent was pickpocketed.

Molly's Cupcakes New York City

2013-02-13T10:56:00.001-06:00

There are certain moments that change your life. There are experiences that you know even when time passes and your memory fades, you will somehow hang on to this one snapshot forever. Living in New York City for a little over three months now, I have a few of those moments. Playing in the freshly-fallen snow in Central Park, eating brunch and looking up and seeing Whoopi Goldberg sitting nearby and eating one of the best cupcakes I've ever put in my mouth. Scratch that, it's not one of the best, it IS the best.

From the moment I moved to this concrete jungle, a girlfriend of mine who moved to the city three years ago, kept telling me about the things I just had to do in the city. There were the usuals, like certain restaurants I should try and places I should go ice skating, but she also kept mentioning her favorite little gem: Molly's Cupcakes.

So on Sunday, January 13th, (Yes, this was the kind of event that got marked in my calendar), I was having brunch with that girlfriend Jeane, and one of her friends, Michelle. When we finished, they said we should swing by Molly's since it was nearby on Bleecker Street. I was stuffed so I reluctantly agreed. When we arrived, we were greeted with a friendly hello from the owner, John, and shelf after shelf covered in the most beautiful cupcakes I had ever seen. I quickly discovered that many of the cupcakes were not only gorgeously-decorated, but had a fun and delicious-filled center such as cake batter, cookie dough and creme brulee. The girls told me cake batter was their fave, so I gave it a whirl.

Jeane and Michelle instructed me to cut the cupcake in half which uncovers the cake batter inside. I used a fork to make sure I scooped out just enough of the gooey goodness along with the vanilla cake and bright blue frosting. I took one bite...and it was...not exaggerating...life changing. My taste buds were dancing with the first encounter of moist homemade ingredients along with frosting that I proclaimed, "Is going to make me cry." Each bite solidified that this was the most amazing cupcake in New York City. I didn't even have to try any others to know that this would forever be my fave. But just to make sure, I came back three more times in the next week.

Now, just to be fair and for research sake, I have tried two other cupcake shops in NYC. Let me just say, it's kind of like going to Olive Garden when you can have pasta bolognese in Little Italy.

So the next time you're in New York, Chicago or Iowa City, stop by Molly's and tell them Jeannie sent you. And since that probably won't mean much, just tell them you want a life-changing cupcake.

Sex and the City Hotspots Tour

2013-01-28T20:10:00.001-06:00

I don't remember what I scored on the SAT in high school, but I do remember thinking it should have been much higher for a loner who had only recently ditched the metal mouth. I also know when I took the GRE to get into grad school, Mike and I had a good laugh about my ridiculously low math score that pretty much ranked me next to a walrus in terms of algebra knowledge.

But I can tell you there is one test that I will always score a 100% on: Sex and the City trivia.

This weekend, I talked my girlfriend Whitney into doing the Sex and the City Hotspots Tour. For 3 1/2 hours, a large tour bus drove us around New York City, showing all the filming locations from the greatest show that ever aired. (Fact, not opinion.) From the New York Public Library where Carrie planned her wedding to Mr. Big, to the New York Sports Club where Miranda worked out, the tour took us from Midtown to SoHo and everywhere in between. It was very well planned too...the tour guide showed a clip from any of the six seasons or the two movies, and then the bus drove by that location. As I told Whitney...that was my idea of the perfect city tour in 9 degree weather.

There are also four times the bus stopped and we got out and toured, which included:
* The Pleasure Chest. Remember when Charlotte bought a "rabbit?" It's a sex store in Greenwich Village that makes girls like Charlotte (and Jeannie) blush. There were no photos allowed inside, for obvious reasons.

* Magnolia Bakery. The ladies loved their cupcakes like they loved their men.

I will tell you, however, that I have found an even better cupcake in NYC. I should know, I ate four this weekend alone. Details coming soon...

* Buddakan restaurant. It's the restaurant where Carrie and Big had their rehearsal dinner. Remember this long table where everyone sat and Samantha did her toast?

We found out this restaurant also doubled as a second location in the movie when Stanford and Anthony kissed during their New Year's Eve celebrations. Apparently each time they shot on location, it cost $10,000 or more, so the producers got savvy with picking spots with lots of great backgrounds. Whitney and I also got a picture in the Buddakan bar where Carrie had her last "single girl's kiss" with Big.

* Onieal's Bar- a.k.a Scout Bar, which Aidan and Steve owned. Remember when Carrie brought Aidan a Mulberry bush as a gift because the bar was on Mulberry Street? Funny enough, the bar is about a block away from Mulberry but the producers "borrowed" the street sign while filming the show.

But the coolest part of the tour was when the tour guide asked the group trivia questions and I knew the answer to each and every one. Yep, those 20's something girls had nothing on me. It's just too bad my grad school exam didn't include listing the names of men Samantha had slept with. I would have nailed it (pun intended).

For more information on this tour, click HERE.

Texting early in the morning

2013-01-23T20:07:00.002-06:00

One of my biggest pet peeves in life (and trust me, there are many) are people who either call or text early in the day or late at night. I have a girlfriend who inevitably shoots me a text at midnight on a Tuesday. Since she's about 10 years younger than me, I've never asked her to stop, fearing she'll see me as a cranky, old lady.

But seriously, I think there should be rules to our instant communication. I propose that no one calls or texts...

Before 8 a.m. on weekdays
After 10 p.m. on weeknights
Before 10 a.m. on weekends (And really I mean 10 a.m. for you people, and noon for me.)

Who's with me?

A couple of months ago, my phone pinged with a text message at 6:11 a.m. on a Thursday morning. 6:11 a.m.! Because my phone was plugged in across the room, I had to drag my butt out of bed to stumble over and read the dang thing. Instead of being something important, this is what it said...

"Sorry, but I'm changing phone numbers and [I'm] wondering who this is."

Really? You just HAVE to have this information at 6:11 a.m.? I quickly realized this was a person I had to deal with exactly one time in life...it's the man I had to turn our apartment keys into when we moved from Chicago. And since this person lives in Chicago, that means he sent the text at 5:11 a.m. his time. Sheesh. And of course, I couldn't fall back asleep after this blood boiling message.

Later that day, Mike and I were talking about what I should do to get back at him. We came up with some pretty fun scenarios like pretending that I was his baby mama, only he didn't know he had a baby, but I would break the news to him via text! Or I could say he gave me some terrible disease and I wanted him to know, via text! Eventually, this is what I texted back...

"I'm so glad you reached out! The test results came back positive :-( "

Haha, sucker. I thought this was perfect. Vague enough to create wonder...yet not mean enough to create problems. When I later told Mike about what I sent he laughed and said, "I thought you were only joking about sending it!" Nope. No one wakes Baby up at 6:11 a.m.

Sadly, I never heard back from this man. Perhaps he eventually realized who I was, or perhaps he decided he was too scared to find out what those test results were. Either way, he hasn't woken me up since.

NYPD encounter

2013-01-20T10:12:00.000-06:00

Courtesy: NYC.gov

Well, it was bound to happen. Mike and I had our first run-in with the NYPD. (Okay Mom and Dad, I'm going to need you to stop reading now.)

Yesterday morning, we were getting ready to go to brunch when our doorbell rang. First of all, it cracks me up that we have a doorbell in a 500 sq. foot apartment because are we really not going to hear someone knocking if we're in say, the bedroom? Secondly, we didn't buzz anyone in the front door, so it took us both by surprise that someone was at our door. The dogs were also going nuts with barking, so they clearly weren't expecting anyone either.

Mike looked through the peep hole and saw two men he didn't recognize. Acting in a very smart city way, instead of opening the door, he just yelled, "Can I help you?"

One of the guys said back, "Ugh, we're the exterminators."

Okay, this was strange for several reasons...

First, and most obvious, we didn't call exterminators.
Secondly, our landlord doesn't work on weekends, so we know he didn't either.
Third, it's winter in NYC, so there aren't a ton of bugs running around.
Fourth, these guys were wearing winter puffer coats and gold chains, not what you'd think of for typical exterminator gear.
Fifth, they didn't have any equipment with them.

Yep, it's the oldest trick in the book. They say they need to get into your house to kill bugs/check the water heater/check your cable, and when they get in, they rob you blind. Mike yelled back, "We didn't call the exterminators." They said okay and left. After we turned them away, we could see them go to every apartment on the floor below us with the same story.

In a total reversal of typical behavior, Mike suggested we call the cops while I said, "Nah, I don't think we should "bug" them. (pun intended) They are sooo busy." But fearing one of our neighbors might get robbed, I decided to call.

Let me just say when New York's finest showed up, they couldn't have been nicer. The officers confirmed that the gentleman were likely there to rob someone. They also checked every floor, and said many of our neighbors were "idiots" who kept their doors unlocked. Here was my favorite encounter...

Officer: "Dude, you need to lock your door."
Third-floor resident: "It was locked."
Officer: "No it wasn't, I just opened your door."
Third-floor resident: "Oh. I'm so sorry!"

Unfortunately, the men were long gone. But in a totally surprising move, instead of getting after us for wasting their time, one of the officers praised us for calling the police. He said it's important that people keep their eyes out for anything suspicious and said how alarming it was that the "exterminators" knocked on every door, but we were the only ones who did anything. He told me that's exactly what they are here for, and to never hesitate to call. Isn't that awesome?

Bravo NYPD, bravo.

And to the "exterminators": you might have a more convincing story if you at least wear a Ghostbusters backpack.

Doing laundry in New York City

2013-01-09T09:04:00.001-06:00

Do you remember the episode of Sex and the City when Miranda is doing Steve's laundry? While folding his underwear, Miranda quickly discovers Steve's dirty little secret-- he is "skid marks guy."

To me, the shocking part of this scene is not that Steve isn't properly wiping, it's the fact that Miranda has a full-size washer and dryer. In Manhattan.

Ironically enough, in another episode when Miranda's ordering Chinese food from her favorite local spot with delicious cold noodles, she gives her address, which is only seven blocks away from ours on the Upper West Side. And honey, let me tell you, their ain't no full-size in-unit washer and dryers anywhere near us.

Before we moved to New York City, I was talking on the phone with our broker. I told him our "must-haves" which included a dishwasher, outdoor space, direct sunlight and a washer and dryer. He laughed and said, "Um yeah, we're probably not going to find you a washer and dryer." He explained that they are a rare gem in the city, saved only for those with a lot of money. In fact, I read somewhere that only 7% of Manhattan apartments have an in-unit washing machine. That means there are people with a whole lot of money who still have to schlep their unmentionables to the nearest laundromat.

The weekend before last, Mike and I decided our pile of laundry was simply out of control. Literally, our laundry basket broke from the sheer weight of a month's worth of towels, jeans and undies. So we packed up all the quarters we could find, and hauled our dirties to the local laundromat. And when I say "we," I mean that Mike carried the Santa Clause looking bag of crusty clothes down floor flights of stairs while I carried the laundry detergent. It took two trips to get all of our stuff there.

The nice thing about our local laundromat is that there are many different sizes of machines. So if you're willing to fork over 16 quarters at once, you can stuff most everything into one (Sorry Mom, sorting our darks and lights is not really a priority anymore.) The machines are pretty clean too. I noticed most people wash their clothes on "hot"--I'm guessing that's so they don't share fluids with the person before them.

While people are waiting, some leave to go eat or run other errands, and others just hang around and read a magazine or talk on their cell phones. The dryers are also super large, so once again you can stuff just about everything into one.

Then when everything is done, you dump your clothes out onto a large table and fold it. I realized just how embarrassing this can be when a large, sweaty man walked right by me as I was folding my underwear with cute little angel wings on the butt. Luckily in NYC, no one really makes eye contact, so we were able to both pretend that nothing happened.

After we had spent about two hours there, we finally looked up and read a sign on the wall that said, "Free pick-up and delivery." We discovered that the laundromat offers a service where they do all your laundry for just about the same price as doing it yourself.

Oh.

Looks like somewhere else is going to be washing my angel wing panties after all.

Uber: The must-have app for New Yorkers

2012-12-26T17:05:00.000-06:00

Since moving to New York City, I've been afraid to leave. No, it's not that I'm worried about missing something super fun, it's the fact that for months I've been hearing horror stories about how hard it is to get to the airport.

You see, in New York, cab drivers rule the roost. They run the show. They tell you what they want to do, but more importantly, they tell you what they DON'T want to do. If they don't want to drive you five blocks in the rain? They won't. If they don't want to take your credit card? They won't. (Cash only blondie.) And if they don't want to drive you to the airport? Well, they just won't stop. Having a suitcase next to you while hailing a cab is nearly as bad as swaying from side to side while holding a bag of vomit in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other. In other words: they just don't want the mess.

Why? From what I hear, cab drivers either think they can make more money driving around Manhattan than they would driving to the airport or they don't want to deal with traffic. So, unless you catch one heading home at the end of his shift, you're pretty much SOL.

Here's me in a black car

Before Christmas, I booked a trip home to Wyoming. On the day of my flight, my heart was racing (and my 'pits were extra sweaty) trying to decide how I was going to get to LaGuardia. Then my husband told me I should use Uber. Uber is a way-cool app that allows you to book a cab, black car or SUV pretty much 24 hours a day. You just sign up and enter your credit card info. When you're ready for a car, you click the app, wait for the GPS to find you and then click "Request Pickup Here." Within 5 minutes, my driver "Wagih" was waiting outside my apartment with a clean, black car and a smile on his face. And his car didn't smell like vomit. And Wagih didn't feel the need to weave in and out of traffic at 90 miles per hour while the car teetered on two wheels. It was the best! I got the airport in one, sweat-free piece.

Best of all, the ride is charged to your credit card, so you can just hop out when you reach your destination. It was $60 for me to go from the Upper West Side to LaGuardia. The tip is included but I gave Wagih an extra $10 to show my appreciation for his cleanliness.

Now, if they could only invent an app that figures out a way to get a 50-pound bag down four flights of steep stairs...

Moving into a New York City apartment

2012-12-04T21:30:00.002-06:00

And...we're in. After a curse-worthy move up four flights of stairs, four trips to Bed, Bath and Beyond and a mild electrocution (not even kidding), we are finally in our brand new New York City apartment. Is it being pessimistic to say that I'm already dreading moving out?

On Thursday, three movers showed up to our 1910 walk-up and after they surveyed the building that is sans elevator, they called for two more guys to help. It was impressive too...basically one guy brought boxes in, another took it up one flight of stairs and passed it off to another for the next flight, and so on and so on. I kept apologizing for the awfulness of it all, but the mover reassured me that in 10 years on the job in New York and New Jersey, he's dealt with plenty of staircase shenanigans. I can't even imagine how tough it must have been, considering I get winded even carrying a five-pound Chihuahua up to our apartment.

As they brought furniture and boxes in, we were quickly running out of space in our tiny one-bedroom. The mover said to me, "Didn't you downsize before you moved here? I replied, "Well, we also lived in a one-bedroom in Chicago, so I'm not really sure how to downsize from that." Seriously, what am I supposed to get rid of? My husband?

The movers continued unloading when suddenly they found out about our dirty little secret. We have a King bed.

Throughout the process of looking for an apartment and moving, whenever we told someone we have a King bed, they would say, "Oh" and look at us as if we just told them we are swingers. Apparently King-sized beds are as rare in New York City as empty space. The bed fits...barely...and for Mike to get in, he has to get a running start from Brooklyn.

So throughout the entire weekend we unpacked and unpacked and basically put everything we don't immediately need into a storage bin. Then on Saturday night, I rewarded myself with a nice, long hot shower. After I got out, I tried to plug my cell phone into the bathroom outlet because our bedroom was too crowded to find one. Since our apartment was recently gutted, we have all new electrical wiring so it's really tough to plug anything into the tight outlets. So as I was pushing and pushing...apparently I got electrocuted. Mike said I screamed...which I don't remember doing...I only remember dropping my phone and feeling a sharp pain in my feet. When I later shared the story with my worried mother-in-law, I told her since I didn't poop my pants or forget who I was, I'm presuming I'm okay.

So I guess now we're the couple in the building who has a King-sized bed and lets out blood-curdling screams at 10 p.m. I wonder what they must be thinking...

Correction: As one of my TV friends reminded me, electrocution is a "death caused by electrical shock." No I didn't die, but since being electrocuted sounds much more dramatic than being shocked, I'm keeping it in. As my southern friends say, "why should facts get in the way of a good story?"

New York City Apartments- We found one!

2012-11-27T15:48:00.000-06:00

My husband just texted me the most beautiful photo I've ever seen: the keys to our brand-new (actually really old) overpriced and tiny New York City apartment. Whoo-hoo! It's finally here. After a month of tears, laughter and pain, we finally got accepted into the elite club known as Manhattan living.

For those of you who've been keeping up with this blog, you know that looking for an apartment in the Bright Lights of NYC was giving me sweatier 'pits than usual. Even though we seem like a stable married couple in our 30's, landlords considered us high-risk for a few reasons including our dogs (Chihuahua's are like politicians--some are noisy and annoying and give the rest a bad rep), my job (I work from home), and a couple of credit "issues." Let me just tell you that if you opened a Gap credit card in 2009 but forgot that you opened it and then moved so you therefore paid the bill a month late--New York City landlords will find out about it. (Totally hypothetical situation, of course.) I'm so glad I opted to never hold- up a convenience store or beat an ex-boyfriend, because that would have made the application process much trickier.

So because we were not ideal candidates for living in a basement apartment facing a brick wall (I mean, really?), we needed to find a co-signer. Can you imagine how awkward the conversation is when you have to call friends and relatives and ask if they make a quarter of a million dollars and have another 6-figures in liquid assets, and if so, if they're willing to turn over all their financial paperwork from the last year? It made me wish the process was this difficult for people before they procreated. We'd have a lot less stupid in this world. (But I would miss the Maury Povich show. That moment after the DNA test when Maury proclaims, "You are the father" gets me choked up every time.)

Now we just have to figure out how to stuff all of our furniture and clothes into an apartment that is half the size of our Chicago apartment. Any suggestions? We may have a repeat of the move-in disaster of 2009 when I exclaimed to Mike, "Yes, it all fits! We got everything into our 660 square foot apartment!" He then reminded me that we hadn't moved in any of his stuff yet.

Oops.

New York City Apartments- Take Three

2012-11-19T19:06:00.000-06:00

Enjoying NYC this weekend

Another New York City work day is coming to a close and people are busy scurrying home on the sidewalks, buses and subways. From our temporary apartment near Times Square, I can hear horns honking and people yelling. It's just another Monday.

But for us, it's another frustrating day of still not having a New York City apartment. We were supposed to have an answer on Friday on whether or not our application on a West Side apartment was accepted, but in New York landlord time, that apparently means you'll find out next Tuesday, if "yous is lucky."

From my previous two posts, you know how unbelievably challenging it is to find an apartment in the city. For the most recent application, we paid a $220 non-refundable deposit, turned in copies of our bank statements, tax records, letters of employment and more. Since then, we've also found a co-signer who's willing to show that he/she makes a healthy 6-figure sum and has another healthy 6-figures in liquid assets (beer doesn't count, unfortunately). We've also jumped every time they've asked for more paperwork, bank statements or a better explanation of our jobs (apparently just "being awesome" isn't enough).

And yet, nothing.

I know what you're thinking. You're wondering if it's because we're applying for apartments outside of our price range. Nope. In New York City, there is a strict equation you do where you add up your salaries and then divide by 40. That's how much you can pay. In fact, for two apartments we've put deposits down on, we went lower by about $500. (More money for shoes, of course.) I'm getting the sneaking suspicion that living in Manhattan is an exclusive club and we haven't yet been granted membership.

I have to say one enjoyable part of this experience is reading your comments to my apartment blog posts. Here are a few of my faves...with my reaction, of course...

"There's no crying in New York, so put your big-girl pants on."
Me: Um, have you seen The Real Housewives of New York? The fact that I've only cried once in three weeks is pretty darn good. And it wasn't because Ramona snubbed me.

"You can't afford the Upper West Side, you should try Brooklyn."
Me: We could afford the Upper West Side...until we paid $510 for deposits, $20 for a salad at Applebee's and $7 for Frosted Flakes.

"Do you write this blog to make your mother-in-law drink?
Me: Yes.

"You were overwhelmed by Chicago, so what makes you think you can handle New York?
Me: Well, luckily it's 5 p.m. an hour sooner here, so I can drink earlier. Plus, if I'm feeling overwhelmed, I can just give people the middle finger or tell them to F-off. Those are both accepted here.

"Hipster Chihuahuas blogging about their mom getting it together in Williamsburg [Brooklyn] might have potential."
Me: Love it! Can I charge them rent then?

Click here for New York City Apartments
Click here for New York City Apartments- Take Two

New York City Apartments- Take Two

2012-11-13T21:54:00.000-06:00

They say New York City is the concrete jungle where dreams are made. Well, apparently Jay-Z forgot to mention it's also the place that will make you cry on 57th and Broadway in front of your apartment broker.

As I mentioned in my last post, looking for an apartment in NYC is one of the most daunting experiences of my life. Sure, I knew beforehand the city was expensive, but I don't think it really hits a person until they're looking at an apartment that has views of a brick wall and vines growing through the window, and yet it's a cool $2,800 a month. (I know it's crass to talk about money, but a quick Google search will find you exactly what I'm talking about. Oh, and while you're at it, Google "worst jobs ever." It's pretty funny.)

Last week, we put a deposit down on an Upper West Side apartment that was small, but super cute. We kept waiting and waiting to see if the landlord was going to accept us, but we found out today that we got rejected. What we've quickly learned is that because the market is so competitive, and because landlords face tough laws which make evictions nearly impossible, they can reject you on anything. The way you look...the pets you have...your credit...the money you have in the bank...where you work...anything. Literally, if you had a late credit card payment six years ago, you are SOL.

So late today, our broker and I started looking again. We had much better luck than last week and we quickly found the most perfect NYC apartment in the cutest pre-war building with awesome views and lots of space. The only catch? (Again Jay-Z, did you rap about the catch?) It requires a co-signer who makes 80 times what our monthly rent is. That equals just under $250,000. A quarter of a million dollars! For a 1-bedroom apartment! You don't even want to know what you have to do for a 2-bedroom apartment.

So here we go again...the landlord is deciding whether or not he wants us and then we'll deal with the co-signer issue.

But wait a minute Alicia Keys, if there's "nothin' I can't do" in New York, then why can't I find an apartment? Perhaps you meant there's nothing I can't do if I have Grammy's and Manolo's Blahnik's, not Chihuahua's and Nine West flats.

New York City apartments

2012-11-11T18:50:00.000-06:00

If you ever feel like you need to be put in your place...you know, the kind of experience that makes you realize you really have nothing to show for your 34 years of life, all you need to do is look for an apartment in New York City.

Last week, during a day of nasty weather that turned from rain to sleet to snow in a New York minute, I joined our broker to look at apartments on the Upper West Side. It was, well, let's just say eye-opening. For a hefty price that is four times more than a mortgage I had in Indianapolis, we can easily afford a dark and dirty basement apartment with a view of a
fire escape. Or a brick wall. Or both!

Okay, full disclosure here. These are not photos I took. They are from Craigslist of other West Side apartments. But look! For a cool $2,500 or more, you can easily get bars on your windows PLUS a large dose of Asbestos. Oh, and don't worry...you'll have a toilet, it just might be in the bathtub. (Keep scrolling down.)

Any of you regular blog followers know when I lived in Chicago, I complained about the high cost of living there. Ha! I hadn't see nothin' yet.
I told Mike that with what we paid there, we
could only afford a crack house in NYC. Actually, a 1-bedroom apartment in that crack house. Scratch that--we could pay for a "junior studio" in that crack house.

When we started, this was the criteria for an apartment:

* 1-bedroom, but preferably 2
* Outdoor space
* Lots of direct sunlight
* Washer/dryer
* Dishwasher

However, after talking with our broker who said, "Yeah, um, a washer/dryer is probably NOT going to happen," (It's a NYC anomaly) and after getting a healthy dose of reality, our list of must-haves changed to this:
* 1-bedroom apartment

Yep, that's it. All we ask for is a separate space with a door that seems like a must for any married couple.

Stay tuned to see where we end up....Connecticut, perhaps?

Presidential Election

2012-11-07T20:07:00.000-06:00

Aww, yes. The day after the election, otherwise known as the day that you can slowly start to tolerate 50% of your Facebook friends again. What was with the political bashing going on? Clearly those people don't know my political beliefs are the only right ones. Wait, you feel the same way, don't you?

Last night, Mike and I decided to take advantage of our new New York status and we headed to Rockefeller Plaza to check out the political party. It was so cool! One of the first things we saw was the giant building with two window washer scaffolds on the side-- one for Obama and one for Romney. Each time either candidate won a state, the men on the platforms would add the appropriate numbers to the front, and the platform would rise. When Obama's platform went up, people would cheer. When Romney's went up, not so much. It wasn't that there weren't any Romney supporters in the crowd, they just didn't want to show it. See, in New York, you're much safer coming out of the gay closet than the Republican one.

We could also see Brian Williams, Savannah Guthrie and the rest of the NBC crew broadcasting from the platforms above the crowd. I suddenly remembered how much I dreaded election day as a news reporter. Interviewing many politicians is kind of like interviewing used car salesmen. They tell you what you want to hear and you can't help but feel a little dirty afterwords.

Either way, I'm just glad it's all over. It's hard to believe two men are willing to fight so hard for the most thankless, awful job in the country. Although, a quick Google search of "worst jobs ever" uncovered the profession of "Elephant Sperm Collector." Yep. And it's not just the collection that's needed, there's also a little, well, enticing involved. Don't believe me? Check out the YouTube video.

Hurricane Sandy

2012-10-29T12:10:00.000-05:00

Midtown today

Well, talk about timing. Mike and I decided to move to New York City yesterday, the same day Hurricane Sandy decided to bear down on the East Coast. So now instead of exploring this cool city and eating at fun restaurants, we are stuck inside our tiny Midtown apartment drinking bottled water and eating cereal with not milk, but half and half, because the stores are out of basic supplies.

Stocking up on supplies

Ironically enough, this same scenario happened to me when I moved to Southwest Florida in 2003. Little did I know, I was about to experience one of the worst hurricane seasons on record, and as a news reporter, I would be forced to stand outside and report on Hurricanes Charley, Frances, Jeanne and Ivan. What can I say? Hurricanes like me.

When we flew in yesterday morning to LaGuardia, we were on one of the last flights into the city. It was a bumpy, fun ride too (yeah, right). After we arrived at our temporary housing, we immediately went across the street to Rite Aid and stocked up on bottled water, soup and half and half. As I mentioned, the shelves were nearly empty and we got one of the last cases of water. It was a bit eerie. The lines were long and people seemed a bit frantic. Look at this photo...the woman next to us was totally eyeing our Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Funny enough...she bought about 20 candles and four packs of cigarettes. I guess it's important to have smokes when trying to "stay safe." (And she apparently didn't hear about the SW Florida man who died after Hurricane Charley because he got hit by a falling tree while smoking outside of his home.) See, smoking kills.

So now, it's just lightly raining, but we're doing what the emergency workers are asking us to do: we're staying inside and waiting to see what comes next. I can't wait until NYC gets back to what it should be-- a place where you can get Chinese food and 1% milk at 2 a.m.

Bright Lights, Sweaty Armpits

Smoking in New York City

New York City living

Best New York City Apartment

Eating out in New York City

Bernadette Peters New York City

Why are New Yorkers so rude?

Duggar Family Baby Annoucement

New York City celebrity sighting

New York celebrity sightings

Daniel Day-Lewis and Anne Hathaway

New York City living

Molly's Cupcakes New York City

Sex and the City Hotspots Tour

Texting early in the morning

NYPD encounter

Doing laundry in New York City

Top 10 blog posts of 2012

Uber: The must-have app for New Yorkers

Moving into a New York City apartment

New York City Apartments- We found one!

New York City Apartments- Take Three

New York City Apartments- Take Two

New York City apartments

Presidential Election

Hurricane Sandy