Appletini

Introducing my new blog....

2008-06-28T11:43:00.001-07:00

I'm moving to Africa. New chapter, new blog.

http://manolosonamission.wordpress.com
www.manolosonamission.com

Why in the world did I move to NYC?

2008-06-24T07:46:00.000-07:00

My condo in Chicago vs. my apartment in Manhattan. Same price. You decide? Which one is better?

Chicago:

Manhattan:

The Best Compliment

2008-06-18T06:30:00.000-07:00

My boyfriend just got back from a trip to his parent's house and whips out from his bag a wrapped present for me.

BF: This is from my mom for your graduation.
Me: Oh, wow, that was nice. I wasn't expecting anything.

I open up the present, and it's a new work-out outfit. I love it. My boyfriend must have seen my mismatched concoctions for months now, trying to keep up with trendy New Yorkers in Central Park, and decided to help his mom pick out the snazziest blue workout outfit in the store for me.

BF: She wanted to pick out pink for you but I told her blue (His mother has 5 sons, of course she wanted to pick out pink for me :)
Me: Oh, that is sweet. So you helped her pick it out?
BF: Yes, but check the size. We were both really worried it is not your size.

I check out the size and it says "Small."

Me: (Worried about what he really thought my true size was). It's my size....what size did you think I was?
BF: Extra Small.

He didn't even know how much they made my day.

Story Corps

2008-05-16T08:09:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I wonder if God messed up and spilled ten extra doses of emotion into my DNA.
People who know me by acquaintance might be surprised by that statement. From what I’ve heard, I’m perceived as strong, independent, ambitious and tenacious. Qualities like this don’t exude emotion. But those who really know me, know I am an incredible softy.

I shed a tear almost everyday when I hear or imagine other people’s stories. I shed a tear last week when I saw an elderly immigrant woman have trouble interacting in English with her grandson. I shed a tear yesterday watching a commercial.

And I am streaming tears right now listening to Story Corps online. Story Corps, sponsored by NPR, has booths all around the country that any two people can enter to tell a story. Any story. The NYC Grand Central booth closed yesterday, so I went online to hear some of the stories recorded there. They are only a couple of minutes each, but all are so beautiful and poignant. After each segment, I literally need another tissue.
http://www.storycorps.net/listen/

I love stories. And Story Corps just reminds us that we are as important as all the fictional stories we love in the movies and books. Take a second to listen to some. It will melt your heart.

To Mac or not to Mac?

2008-05-02T11:31:00.000-07:00

O. M. G.

I am seriously considering the purchase of a MAC. I am scared s&*$less but I am seriously considering it. MAC lovers are so flippin in love with their computers that it is making me a believer. But I am also scared of all the c$%* they go through when trying to convert word files to and from PCs. Moreover, I am super scared about not being able to right click.

One of my friends finally gave into the MAC and she says her life has become a mess since then. Nothing converts and she cannot figure out how to maneuver it. However there are so many stories of converters that feel like life has gotten easier.

I feel like a MAC person. I love its simplicity, its graphics and its concept. I always admire the MAC store glass cube on 5th avenue and revel in its genius simplicity. I look at MACbook owners at Starbucks and often ponder as to why and when they made the switch? Is it my time?

I love photoshop and my poor PC just cannot hang with me. Does a Mac work better? I think it may, but that dang rightclick not existing gets me really worried! What do you guys think? To MAC or not to MAC?

Reading Reward

2008-05-01T07:21:00.000-07:00

I have officially completed my Masters Degree requirements! I cannot even begin to tell you how relieved I feel. After 2 years of constant guilt over every waking minute I spend NOT on school work and after the last 6 months of juggling a full time job during the day and researching and writing my thesis in the evenings, I finally turned in all my requirements and was given my official “congratulations” by the university registrar.

As I walked home leisurely from campus, on cloud 9 amazed that I didn’t have to rush, I stepped into the university bookstore to pick up my graduation gown and diploma frame. As I was waiting in line, I saw a book I’ve been dying to read “The Tipping Point” and decided to spend the $14.95 as a reward to myself.
I bought myself a book as a reward for finishing two years of reading books. Yes.

But this is different. I LOVE to read for fun. Reading is my crack. Although I have read WONDERFUL articles, journals, case studies and more the past two years, I have been in serious withdrawal of getting lost in a story. It’s kind of like being in love. Everything around you stops and you are engrossed so passionately into that one thing that chaos can be brewing around you and all you care about is that book, or love. So today was the first morning in years I cracked open a book on the subway, instead of a highlighter and copies of articles. Man, it felt so good, and no one on the train had any idea of what a pleasure that was for me.

Everyone in my family loves to read. I’ve often wondered why? Not many of my friends take pleasure in books as we do. Is it nurture? Our mother often dropped us off at the library for hours when she had to do errands (doctor, grocery store, etc). The library was our favorite babysitter. Stacks of books. Rows of magazines. Rooms filled with toys. Bookcases of videos and CDs. The sky was the limit. In the summer, we always participated in the library’s summer reading program. Our names were written on posterboard and each time we read a book and reviewed it to a librarian, we received a gold star. Our starts were always off the charts. In fact, I remember reading so many books in the summer, that our mother signed us up at 2 summer reading programs! So I often wonder if our love of reading came from all the time in the library, or if it is just a gene.

In any case, when friends tell me that don’t really read, my heart drops. Why!? How can your life be void of this absolute pleasure? Is it nature or nurture?

My blogging days in Africa

2008-04-11T10:18:00.000-07:00

So when I was in the Peace Corps I often wrote on www.livejournal.com about my experience. I kind of forgot that I even did that, until my mother sent me the link this past week! At that time, I had no idea that what I was doing had a name...blogging. I was literally just journaling my stories online for my loved ones to read. Anyway, at one point I thought all those stories were lost but to my delight the link was still active and my stories were saved! In remembrance of my early blogger days, and because one of my best friends i currently living in Africa for her first time, I am posting a few postings from that time that made me laugh and remember things I had already forgotten and also remind everyone that it wasn't as easy as you think it was for us. Even though we laugh and love it all now, we all had days where S$%t hit the fan. This is a testament to journaling your stories throughout life wherever they may be, in paper or electronic form. If I hadn’t these memories would have vanished. This is the power of the written word.

This was my last entry, a month before I finished my service. Check out how nonchalent and comfortable I am with the situation and how I left on a high note:

TITLE: Roomates
Journal Entry: I come back to my hut, after two weeks of hard work and major partying, searching for a place of solitude...only to open my door and find:

one lizard living in my armoire.
two new mouse holes, one right behind the backboard of my bed.
a bird nesting on the INSIDE of my roof. A bird LARGER than your head.A whole new colony of fireants in my douche hole.
AND about five new chicks grazing in my yard.

Suffice to say, I have had enough roomates for a lifetime.and for some reason, I STILL think my hut is the best place in the world.

END

Even thought I left on high note, check out this blog entry one year into my two year service:

TITLE: I am sooo tired.

Journal Entry: It's hard living in a developing country. It is really hard. Many people think living in a tropical nation is like wWhen you go on vacation: it's all a good time, nice hotels, beer, and palm trees. However when you are actually living there, its nothing but constant hardship. Those palm trees may be there but they certainly don't produce beer and smiles.

For instance, regarding the cities here: Cities are not natural here. They all started as big villages and just grew outward, but didn't change in essence. So they are still big provincial villages. So amidst some three story buildings are tons of huts and shacks and a village ambiance anyway. This means they are totally chaotic and disorganized. There is no organization at all.

I come to the city today to get money from the bank, and because my boss said I had to change three things in my proposal before it could be approved. So of course, i am already on pins and needles hoping my proposal will finally be approved. Then I go to the bank and after waiting in line for 45 minutes, I finally get to the teller and the lady closes her stand and tells me to get in the other line of nearly 20 people. I nearly lost it.

In this developing nation, there is NO BUSINESS STRATEGY. For instance, the local gas station used to sell ice cream. But they STOPPED selling it after all the white people, us, began buying it because they had to restock every week and it as too much work.

Also, the concept of lines, getting into line,has not been acquired here. You go inside a room, and fight your way to the front of people, holding out your arm, and screaming to the bank teller. Meanwhile, people are pushing their elbows into you from all sides. Its actually really dangerous.

As for discipline, that was never taught here either. So as you are walking down the street, from point A to Point B, atleast 5-10 people will knock into you becasue they dont wathch where they are going. No one looks when crossing a street, and no one cares if they knock into you wshen passing you buy. So basically you are just constantly getting beaten up in this country without consciously knowing it. It is beating me up! Well at least it is beating me up this week. I guess I am just venting. Since I cant do it in the village.

When I tell them my problems or concerns to the village, they just tell me to "take it easy." After an hour of getting pushed around in the bank and finally getting my money, one guy approaches me and goes to me "See, everything ok. you got your money, there is no problem." I wanted to scream at him, telling him i lost 2 hours, about 5 lbs in sweat, and acquired several new brusies, that yes that is a problem for me. BUt they just dont understand.

In addition, EVERY STEP I TAKE, anywhere i go, I get harrassed. People constantly hiss at me, say stuff, and i walk through this town like an ice queen never aknowledging anyone. Its really hard on the soul. I guess it is mostly Kaolack. this city is known to be one of the most aggressive African cities, and it just so happens its the closest one to me. It is filled with merchants screaming for attention, mopeds cutting over your toes, and really dirty streets. Even as i sit down for my "break" to read emails from people I love, people harass me, ask me for my email address or try to get in full conversations as my minutes count down.

THey just dont understand. They ALWAYS have time for talk and greetings. They ALWAYS have time to kill. I guess in that respect I am just to American and cannot stand to lose time pointlessly. Because as many problems and trials I go through living here, there are many many moments that make it worth it all, especialy living in the village. I thank God I am a village volunteer and not a city one. BUt I will have to write about those magic moments next time.

What lurks in my purse

2008-04-05T12:18:00.000-07:00

A few days ago OhMommy posted a blog about what's in her purse. She asked her readers to reveal what we all had in our purses to get a better insight into our daily lives. So here it goes.
I decided to reveal the contents of my red new work bag Hap py Work Day to Me! since it is always packed.

Items above are Probably the most important items for the work week, my gymshoes, gym clothes and headphones for after work runs.
Let's see here, my handy spring umbrella, a pen, whitening gum, nasty old wallet, photo of my niece Josephine, Chanel lipgloss, Chanel sunglasses, business cards, and keys.

My textbooks for the new French class I am taking!
Miscellaneous: Book of stamps, Post Office missed package slip, 15% of discount card at Banana and a free hash browns coupon.

Although not IN my purse, it's always IN my hand on my way to work....a cup of lipstick stained coffee from DD, SB, or the Yemeni guy on the corner of my subway stop.

NKOTB - Dreams really do come true

2008-04-03T13:21:00.001-07:00

I CLEARLY remember walking home from Tower Records in the 4th grade, listening to my brand new New Kids on the Block cassette I bought with my own money playing in my walkman, becoming so engrossed into the music that as soon as I got home, I opened up my diary and wrote emphatically and really believing, “I KNOW one day my kids are going to listen to this NKOTB cassette just as I listen to my parents’ Led Zeppelin records.” Ahem. Well, as embarrassing as this revelaing memory may be, I also love that I still carry it with me. I actually remember the precise passion I had for the band that day, a puppy love excitement only a preteen can have, and am grateful for the memory of my former self. I thought I would never feel it again. But yet again, my dreams are coming true.

NKOTB is reuniting and playing their first concert since they broke up TOMORROW at ROCKEFELLER PLAZA at 7am. Watch for me, because I WILL BE THERE!

Please see below for the email I received from www.NKOTB.com. You can sign up on their website for updates on the band’s reunification. I’ll let you know how the concert was tomorrow!

ATTENTION NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK FANS
THE TIME: 7AM EST / FRIDAY APRIL 4th, 2008

THE PLACE: THE TODAY SHOW COURTYARD ROCKEFELLER PLAZA, 48TH/49TH STREETNEW YORK CITY
THE EVENT: BE THERE IF YOU ARE READY...
www.nkotb.com

As easy as black and white

2008-03-27T20:44:00.000-07:00

Last week, my apartment 'super' came storming in to our apartment visibily upset demanding to know if we had flood the Chinese restaurant below, as we live right above them. I was chilling on the sofa and looked at him like he was crazy and said absolutely not. He then peeked into my kitchen and screamed, "Come look! Your kitchen is flooded! You have a laundry machine in your kitchen, that is illegal!" and stormed back out.

Terrified, because we had just received a Pending Eviction. notice a few weeks back, I looked and indeed, our illegal laundry machine had finally seen its last day. There was water everywhere and as I sat mopping it up, I pondered as to how I was going to find the time to go to a laundromat from now on between my full time job and my full time thesis after work, or more realistically, how was I going to find the money for someone to pick up my laundry and do it for me?

Well, as I perused online department stores during my lunch break today, I cam across a black and white dress I HAD to have. And then I came across another that I definetly NEED! I want them soooo bad.

So as a result, a few hours later, I dumped my laundry in my tub and proceeded to wash my clothes with my own bare hands. This is what I do for the price of looking good. Even though I live in Manhattan, it occurred to me my lifestyle resembled that of when I was in the Peace Corps, at that moment.

Anyway, I need help deciding which black and white dress I want. 1) The very chic and grown up sex bomb cocktail dress, to wear to weddings, bridal showers and dinners with the boyfriends parents. or 2) the short fun flirty summer "going out" dress to dance the night away?

Help me decide s'il vous plait!

Perpetual State of Being 16

2008-03-26T08:06:00.000-07:00

It’s no lie we are getting older….tick, tock, tick tock. You are already older since you read the first line. So why is it with each passing day, I feel myself regressing more and more to juvenile behavior? Many women at my page are “stable,” whatever that means.

I on the other hand:

Barely make ends meet
Rent
Own 3 plates (in different shapes and colors), 2 mismatched bowls, 1 glass, 9 mugs and a sprinkling of plasticware
Am still in school
Can’t seem to stay in one place
Am obsessed with Facebook!
Routinely send puppy dog forwards to my friends
Use phrases like, “I heart Chihuahuas” about once a day
Sometimes upgrade my phrases to “I puffy heart Chihuahuas.”
Often justify my/our friends’ behavior by stating, “We are still so young!” even though we are approaching or have already passed 30.

The reality is, I have never felt like an adult. Sure, I have adult responsibilities like a job, am organized with my life and can manage my own household, but I really feel like I am “playing” adult. I feel like I never really outgrew 16 in soul. I feel like my personality thrived at that age and stopped developing then! I am stuck in soul as a 16yr old. It’s kind of fun, ‘playing’ adult, since it feels like a novelty to me. Because of this of it I still get such a thrill off of:

Being able to buy anything I want without asking someone for money.
Being able to travel anywhere I want without permission.
Not having to tell anyone where I am going.

It’s so cool.

And so, the question I would love to know is, When do you begin feeling like an adult? Does it ever happen? Please feel free to comment.

Haiku Friday

2008-03-21T10:49:00.001-07:00

Stuck at work til 5
Sunny day and happy hour
Counting the minutes

Struggling with posts

2008-03-21T09:49:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have been struggling with topics to write about in this post. I have no one to write about other than myself, and I don’t know, sometimes I feel like, who in the world cares!? Well, maybe my friends and family do…and since they happen to be the only return readers I have, what the heck? You got it, it’s all about me! I promise nothing earth shattering, no morally great endings, and no lessons to be learned. I am just going to write about anything, as insignificant as it may be, that struck a chord to me that day.

My mom called me yesterday and told me I made bank off my tax returns (and yes I am 27 and I still send my tax forms back to my parents for help on filing them). Having been extremely thrifty the past few weeks in all my spending (that was instigated by the phone conversation I had with my graduate school loan lender who told me how much I was going to begin repaying in May), I thought I should treat myself and go to my favorite gourmeat grocery store for a treat. I could have opted to go to a nice steak dinner, or maybe indulge in some deep dish pizza, maybe even ordered the expensive sushi roles over $7 on the menu, but instead I followed my gut which lead me to the food I craved most….smoked fish.

I entered Zabar’s (a NYC grocery store with a smoked fish counter with over 50 types of smoked fish! It's amazing!) with a smile and left with $30 worth of smoked fish: trout, sturgeon, mackerel, chub, and nova…While I was finishing my smorgasbord dinner of delicious smoked fish in my apartment last night and realized how little I really got for such a premium, realized I couldn’t get my stinky fingers clean, and realized my aparment stunk like a lake, I finally asked myself, “Who does this?” Thank goodness both my roommate and my boyfriend were not in town to witness my true culinary colors.

Disclaimer: Even though I write about myself, a cool chick living in Manhattan, I am NOT ever going to pretend I am all put together and perfect and always wear manicured nails. The truth is, although I am classy and cool, I defintely am a product of my environment...a daughter of immigrants, a returned Peace Corps volunteer, and a middle child that is inherently sloppy, adventurous and carefree...and so will my stories be.

Travel Secrets

2008-03-04T11:11:00.000-08:00

I've been slacking with the blog writing, and I apologize. However I've been spending my lunch breaks frantically researching my upcoming vacation to Puerto Rico (this Friday, whoo hoo!) and working out at the gym after work losing those winter lbs.

What started off as a romantic 3 day beach getaway has turned into a 3 day, high energy, action packed adventure around the island: 3 nights in 3 different hotels, some beach, a rainforest hike, an old town stroll, a night scuba dive, etc. Obviously, I am not the typical traveler. My boyfriend told me I can choose the hotel, and so I did, and then I found another, and then another and then argh...I couldn't decide, I wanted them all! I posted my itinerary on an online forum asking experts if it is doable and this is the response I recieve: You will need a vacation when you return!

After telling my boyfriend I wanted to do it all I was pleased to know he wanted to do it all with me. And that's why we match :)

In any case, since I have been in travel research mania this week I thought I would share with you some of my favorite travel websites.

http://www.itasoftware.com/: This website has been my bible for the last few years. If you are planning a vacation, you can search a 30 day range, and enter your departing and arriving city as well as how long you want to stay (3.4 nights, or 7,8 nights and so on). This website will tell you the CHEAPEST day to depart in that time range and give you the detailed booking code that you can take to a travel agent to get the same price. This website does NOT book tickets, they are bunch of young genuises that are just trying to get you to fly cheaply. So take a look and explore.

http://www.farecast.com/: This is a relatively new website and I am not sure how well it works yet. but is supposedly forecasts the cheapest and most expensive times a ticket will be. So if you are considering buying now or in 4 weeks, it will forecast when is a better time to buy.

http://www.lonelyplanet.com/: I've been using this one for years. I post any question on the thorntree forum and get helpful answers from experts in the area within hours! There an ocean of information already in there if you just peruse the topics.

OK, happy travels,
Kash

Pending Eviction.

2008-02-27T12:40:00.001-08:00

“You, the illegal occupant(s) have 10 days from the date of this letter to vacate the property,” read the letter I received yesterday.

I knew it was too good to be true. My awesome mediocre, large but crumbling, cheap in NYC but outrageously priced elsewhere apartment was just too good to be true. It had to end sometime.

My roommate and I aren’t ‘technically’ the tenants. We are subletting from the tenant who has had the apartment for over 13 years…rent controlled. This means that he pays something similar to what he paid 13 years ago. We pay somewhat more than this, but much lower than market price, around $1600 less than market price. So all of us are happy with the situation, well all of us but the management. So yeah, I understand they want the pad back, they want to make money.

So we, or the real tenant, is taking them to housing court, which is a grueling, long, strenuous process that would take over 4 months, about just the amount of time I have left in the lease. This would be great. Or we are going to begin negotiations with them that we will leave the apartment forever by August. Either way, we fortunately will have time to find a new pad. 10 days is apparently a scare tactic most NYC residents receive in their lifetime.

So please keep me in your prayers so that I can stay in my sufficient apartment throughout the summer, so I can have one glorious summer left jogging in Central Park, dog walking on Broadway Avenue, and kayaking in the Hudson River.

Peace Corps Reunion

2008-02-20T13:37:00.000-08:00

I spent this past weekend in Washington D.C. for a West Africa Peace Corps reunion.

It’s been 5 years since I left my tearful mother crying like a banshee at the Chicago airport on my way to the unknown…Africa. That day I departed from the comfort of the “American Dream” equation…go to school, work hard, go to college, graduate, get an apartment in the city, paying job, meet other singles, work up the ladder, get married, have babies, etc. I had gotten to the graduate part, and then decided to stop following rhetoric directions and take a risk. I had my first and only panic attack the night before, I thought I was going to suffocate, I was so scared. I wondered for the first time if this might be a huge mistake. I wondered why the heck I had to go out and get myself in this situation, why did I have to go to Africa, what is my problem!? I wondering if this would ruin my life and my chances at a stable and happy life. Was this ruining my chances in getting married? In getting a job? In getting ahead? As I was falling into my panic attack, I remember the words I was rehearsing in my head, over and over again like a broken record, “You are going to live in a mud hut alone for 2 years!” And that day, I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea. I questioned whether or not I should take the plunge and go.

The panic stayed with me, it paralyzed me, it suffocated me, until I got off that plane that evening and met my fellow Peace Corps volunteers. Within an instance of meeting the group, all worry vanished. The panic was immediately replaced with BLISS. I called up my mother that night, she still sniffling from the morning outburst and explained that I was fine and didn’t have time to talk. I told her I felt like I made 50 immediate best friends. I had been waiting all my life to meet people like them, and here lucky enough for me, they were all in one room. We all shared similar paths that all led us to that point, and boy did it feel good not to be the black sheep for once. Although those friends didn’t live with my in my hut or even village in Senegal, they were there for me through thick and thin throughout 2 years of highs and lows, laughter and tears, joy and suffering.

2 years later, as I was sitting at the Dakar airport sharing a beer with several of the above friends, there was also a flurry of tears, this time from us. As I was getting on the plane to go back to the USA, my friends and I embraced, all crying like banshees wondering what would become of us in the states. Seeing my Peace Corps friends last weekend was surreal, surreal in the fact that none of us had changed in nature. Instead of one-upping one another we concentrating on hugging one another. We all fell back into the attitudes we had in Peace Corps, all of us incredibly chill and happy to be with one another. I have never felt so comfortable being myself than I do with my PC friends and for that they will always be golden. They know me. (1st pic is in my hut in Africa, 2nd pic was taken this weekend at the reunion).

2 years after I left Senegal, I am graduating with a degree in International Affairs from an IVY, living in Manhattan and working at a wonderful job that deals with Africa everyday. Furthermore, I have a great boyfriend who also did Peace Corps in Africa that I never would have met had I not gone to Africa. I have 50 best friends all over the globe whom I can crash with anytime I wish. And finally, I have a Senegalese family that loves me and taught be what it means to be human. I am a Serer, hear me roar.

Taking that risk was the best decision I have ever made. It opened up doors in every aspect of my life, enriched my life and myself, taught me more about the world and human relationships than I ever learned in school and gave me an instant group of best friends.

So if any of you are even considering doing Peace Corps I urge you to take the plunge, or else you might regret it for the rest of your life.

The Best Gifts come in All Inclusive Packages

2008-02-15T07:32:00.000-08:00

My boyfriend asked me last week if I would like flowers 4 times a year or once on Valentine’s Day. I thought it as a silly question and told him I would like flowers 4 times a year and one of those times ON Valentine’s Day. He clarified and said he meant flowers 4 times a year or 1 time a year ONLY on Valentine’s Day because flower vendors jack up their prices way up that day. I stared at him in disbelief and told him to do what his heart tells him to do. I added, “I love flowers.” Needless to say, I wasn’t expecting much yesterday besides a nice dinner and chocolate.

So after entering my apartment yesterday after a grueling day at work, I was smitten to see a beautiful bouquet of a dozen roses in my room with a note outlining our dinner reservation at a romantic French bistro that night. J My boyfriend is concurrently pursuing TWO degrees from the Ivy in the city and living off excessive loans. I wasn’t expecting much more than dinner that night, and was looking forward to sharing some time together. I had beautiful flowers, I had romantic dinner reservations and I had a great boyfriend, I was a happy camper.

So when I got my gift from him, I was in disbelief. I mean YEAH I have ALWAYS dreamed of getting a gift like this, always, but I couldn’t believe he could actually pull it off. I couldn’t believe that he did this without a thousand hints from me. I was absolutely floored. We are leaving for our long weekend trip to Puerto Rico in 3 weeks! I am one lucky girl and I love my boyfriend.

Pretty Woman at Ralph Lauren

2008-02-10T19:22:00.000-08:00

Despite all the Upper East Side based novels and movies about Prada wearing gossip girls, Botoxed moms, and Harvard educated nannies, I have been comfortably shopping in the area since I moved to New York. Madison Avenue is home to nearly all my favorite designers and is often a venue I frequent after work on the East side. In the process of 'spring cleaning' my wardrobe, I ventured east across the park yesterday afternoon to the Ralph Lauren flagship store on Madison Avenue in pursuit of the perfect white buttondown shirt. I left with nothing but a rancid distate in my mouth after an exchange with a 60+, grey haired salesman on the 3rd floor.

The women's floor of RL consists of several rooms reminiscent of a grand estate. I entered the women's floor and began perusing the apparel throughout the rooms and picked up a white tee to try on. As I stepped foot into the most upscale room carrying high end designer dresses and suits, an older grey haired salesman blocked my entrance and demanded, "Is there anything I can help you with here?" in a confronting manner, looking me up and down. I replied, "Yes, I am looking for a classic white button down shirt." He sternly answered, "We have nothing here for you," as his 60+ year old grey haired bobbed female sales colleagu looked over his shoulder fakely smiling at me. I thought I was Julia Roberts for a second. What? You have nothing here for me you sad sad man? RL, the brand name synonmous with classic white button down shirts has nothing?

Appalled and taken aback, I somehow rather timidly asked him to show me a dressing room anyway. As I was walking towards the dressing room, I spotted a white button down shirt on the rack and pulled it out for him too see. He gave me a nasty look and opened up the dressing room. Meanwhile Ms. Greyhaired Bob was still silently smiling in her passive corner. After trying on the tee, I opened the door and said,"No thank you. " He blocked me from leaving the room again and asked with a lisp condescendingly,"Missssss...did you leave the shirt in the room? Did you want ME to put that back for you?" looking at me waiting for a reply. Standing there. Waiting.

This shmuck has the audacity to ask me if he should put back the shirt? I wanted to reply, "I already have a day job, but thanks" but instead I just bolted. I left and will NEVER go back. Perhaps its not evident in the written word, but the disgust one man left me will not go forgotten. Ew.

Boycott RL on Madison Avenue!

Happy Work Day to Me!

2008-02-08T12:37:00.000-08:00

I rarely pursue expensive products for myself without extensive research and grueling nights of torment deciding whether or not I should buy it, and therefore give up my Starbucks allowance this month. However, after arriving to work yesterday frustrated and disheveled after riding two subways, a bus, and running a half a mile with my purse full of makeup and files and two extra bags with supplies and gym clothes, I was fed up and I made a split second decision. I was buying a work bag TODAY.

I began researching and found $100-200 black leather tote bags on Macy’s and almost made my way there. However they were nothing special. They were just black leather tote bags. Blah…ah..argh..ah. Ew. While my new work bag is not exactly striking, it exudes class and fits a locker full of items in a fashionable yet practical and waterproof twist. It has become a part of the standard uniform for that 20-30something in Manhattan and is Made in France..ooh la la.

It’s the Longchamps Le Pliage Nylon Bag, and it’s mine since yesterday! I went to Saks Fifth Avenue on Fifth Avenue right after work, strolled over to the Longchamps area, snatched a red one and took it up to the counter. No second guesses. Not one blink of the eye. That is so not like me. Better yet, for some reason I thought it was going to retail over $200, but to my surprise it rang at $135. What a steal. Who said money can’t buy class.

When I took it up to the counter I asked for a gift box. Why you ask? Because I am my mother’s daughter, “Kash, always make sure you ask for a gift box every time you buy something. Just keep them stored in a closet in case you need to package a gift or give someone a generic gift you can pretend came from an upscale place. Giftboxes cost money when you don’t buy a gift with it!.”

The sales lady proceeded to wrap my gift to myself with the detail and delicacy of a Parisian pastry chef. I almost told her to hold off and just drop the box in the bag but was so enamored by the precision she took with inserting the tissue paper and wrapping the bow that I thought, What the heck, I am going to unwrap this gift for myself when I get home! After she added the white linen gift card I gleefully skipped out the door with my Saks bag.

When I got home, I hastily unwrapped the beautiful gift box and proudly dropped my bag on my coffee table. I just left it there. I know it’s not the most expensive or beautiful bag in the world, but you know that feeling you get when you buy something you really like, something you really like to admire on other people, something you always notice out of the corner of your eye, and suddenly it’s yours? That feeling of not yet feeling like you are the owner of that product a little foreign in your familiar apartment but that you know soon it will become familiar and right now you are so happy because it is yours and you know soon it will feel like part of your body? Yeah, that one. What a feeling.

Sex and the City, the movie! Coming to you in real life May 30th.

2008-01-28T09:13:00.001-08:00

Walking out of Grand Central station this morning, I was momentarily frozen as I watched two workers put up a new sign on the side of a bus booth. I saw it, and smiled. Grinned a mile wide. It’s finally here! Sex and the City, the movie!!! Coming out May 30th.

This movie has been filming in NYC the past year and like many ladies in Manhattan, I've stumbled across the set to my delight and watched in awe as I saw my leading ladies in real life strutting their stuff on the streets. I have been anxiously awaiting and anticipating for this movie all.year.long. No, more like all my life.

I can imagine NYC on that day. I have visions of millions of Manhattan Femmes in their chattery clickques of 4 or 5, click clacking in their heels into the theater doors, shrieking and waving their hands as they cling onto their Gucci clutches, only to re-emerge two hours later…ready.to.paint.the.town.RED! Who hoo!

This series was probably one of the causal agents many girls that chose to move to Manhattan. This is our bible, our guide, our mantra. And boy you better believe that I will be there in the theater right after my dinner at Pastis, wathing SATC the movie in the middle of Manhattan with the intent to live it up that night. May 30th ladies…Mark your calendars.

The New Yorkers' Guide to Coversation

2008-01-26T08:51:00.001-08:00

When I was in the Peace Corps, volunteers talked explicity and candidly about three things: food, sex and bowel movements. More specifically we talked about our lack of the first two, and our abundance of the last one. These three topics were covered in excruciatingly detail as each volunteer painfully reminisced about their last experience with each. You wonder why we all become so close, eh?

Well in New York, there are also three popular topics of coversation that undoubedtedly come up in every conversation, in any place, and in also in excruciatingly detail: apartment hunting, money and reasons for living in NYC. It's like after we all explain for the upteenth time our personal stories of housing hunting horrors, about the apartment we saw with a shower in the kitchen, or the one that had no windows, or the studio with a a fridge next to the bed that had a shared bathroom on the floor (each more than $1200 per person/mo!), and after we talk about all our friends who have money and therefore no apartment problems, but rather live at the Dakota at age 27, live in a penthouse in Tribeca at age 28, about the friends that have a summer share in the Hamptons, after we bitch and moan about the audacity of the city and how we put up with it, we then feel as though we need to justify it with the reasons we live here.

"Well, who needs windows anyway, right?" Justifier #1 explains, "I mean, we live in freakin' Manhattan! We shouldn't be spending time indoors. The whole point is to explore outdoors."

Where are we, the Outback? The Amazonian jungle? The outdoors is a concrete island, and let me remind you Mr. Justifier #1 that it is 4 degrees outside and frankly exploring the outdoors is not going to happen unless I see some penguins.

Ms. Justfier # 2 goes on, "Yeah, we really are soooo lucky. Who else has life outside their apartments, at every turn, at every hour, happening all the time?"

Umm, well if you had a life, you would have life. That doesn't make any sense. Maybe, get a life?

My mom came to visit a few months back and bought me my very first pair of Manhattan stilettos, aka Christian Louboutins, the God of sexy stilettos, the first tier of over-priced products that make us feel like Wonder Women, the lifetime supply of Prozac in one dosage (and of course, since I will be paying with my first born child for my mediocre apartment, I can't afford to buy them myself).

As I was walking to dinner last weekend with my boyfriend in the bright lights of Manhattan, I was ooing and ahing over my ridiculously beautiful shoes when I screamed in repulsion and clinged on to him as a Manhattan rat scurried across my dainty red hot killer stilettos.

SO as my boyfriend wondered outload very honestly and impartially on why women in NYC buy $500-1200 pairs of shoes when they walk on sewage and rodent infested streets (he's got a point), I shook off the rat attack and exclaimed in delight as we walked into the legendary Dakota where John Lennon lived to visit our rich friends with the good apartment in my very hot shoes, "I am so Sex and the City, I love Manhattan!" We've all got our reasons.

Only in New York #1

2008-01-14T13:20:00.000-08:00

Only in New York are there “detailed” wheelchairs. A man who lives below me is handicap and boy is his wheelchair pimped out! The wheelchair has sticker decals in it in neon and glow in the dark, threads of gold beads, and a surround stereo system with speakers in the chair!!!! You can hear him coming a mile away. It makes me smile each time. It should be broadcast on a show of MTV strollers.

I’ve heard of dogs looking like their owners, but dressing like them? Only in New York do I see a beautiful white standard poodle in a red plaid Scottish kilt at the dog park, and it’s male owner too, complete with a matching beret.

Only in New York do you sing opera on your commute. I was once on a train where as soon as the doors closed, a lady started singing SO LOUD in an operatic voice during the course of travel. Then when the subway would come coming to a halt, she would just stop. Not a native New Yorker, I peered endlessly down the cart trying to catch a glimpse of this culprit, thinking it would be an obnoxiously dressed and vulgur “non-rush” hour native just trying to stir up some nasty New York emotions in everyone. To my surprise, it was a sweet and short Asian women hidden behind glasses, a suit, and clutching her small leather purse. Once I was spotted her, I watched like a hawk all the way from 116th to 42nd street. After each stop once the doors closed and the wheels began movie, like clockwork she would belt it out. That is why I love New York. A place to be yourself.

Craigslist Chaos

2008-01-08T13:09:00.000-08:00

My roommate and I have been living in a reasonably large (for NYC) apartment on the Upper West Side for about 1.5 years now. Plusses: Real 2 BR, great neighborhood, running in Central Park, large bedrooms, real living room with windows! Minuses: Evil super, seasonal cockroaches, leaking pipes, chipping paint, and banging radiators. Considering the housing market in NYC, we think we are the luckiest tenants alive and plan on staying as long as we can!

The first year we lived there, I was a full time graduate student and my roommate was looking for a job. Due to our lack of income, we lived with the previous tenants’ furniture which consisted of seriously broken, tilted and mismatched armoire, futon and dressers.

This year, since both of us are currently employed, we decided to invest in some new furniture, atleast new to us. So we have been scavenging Craigslist.com daily, even hourly, looking for some new and matching goodies to tidy up our place (I did mention we work at non-profits right?).

Well last night I found it. A great deal! I found perfectly simple and chic and more importantly matching dresser and mirror for the front hall, a desk and a chair for a bargain of $100. I immediately hit that up, emailed the guy as soon as possible and asked if we could pick it up tonight. He responded to come pick it up at 9:45.

I emailed the roomie and she agreed it was a good deal and said she would reserve her Zipcar (the car you rent by the hour) so we could pick it up at 10.

Well 8:15 pm rolls around and I ask my roomie to call up the garage so they could get the car ready for us…only for her to discover she cannot find her zipcar card! Scavenging the apartment top to bottom for 20 minutes, she came to the conclusion that it was lost. After arguing with zipcar customer service forever, we were unable to do anything but wait for a new zipcar card to arrive in several days.

Therefore, as a good craigslist.com patron, I called up the seller at 8:30, 1.5 hrs before I was supposed to arrive, and apologized for the inconvenience but that we could not find out zipcar card and had no way of picking up the car that night.

This is craigslist people. People who are poor or carefree peruse the site to find things they need. People who want kinky experiences peruse it to get things they want. You take it with a grain of salt. Most people wouldn't even call.

Anyway, coming from the Midwest and being raised with manners, I apologized profusely, told him our dilemma, wished him luck and told him we are still interested and if he doesn't sell the furniture by Friday we would pick it up then but no worries if he sells it before then (since we would have the zipcar card by then).

Well the seller, “JJ” from JJ@somefinanceinstitution.com was livid. Litearlly, “Do you have ANY idea what an inconvenience this is to me? How dare you say you are coming when you are not!?”
Me: “I am so sorry (mortified at his reaction). We had every intention of coming, we can NOT find out card, like I said we will buy this if you don’t sell it by Friday...”

JJ: “This is really unbelievable, you have ruined my day!”

Me: (totally shocked and flabbergasted and still sweet) “I am so sorry you feel this way, I really apologize. There is simply nothing we can do. We cannot find the card anywhere. Bye.”

Well 1.5 hours go buy and I get a phone call from a number I don’t know at 9:45 pm.

Me: “Hello” (ever so sweetly)

JJ: "Yeah this is JJ…I was thinking, maybe you should come down and give me a deposit for the furniture and that way you can pick it up kater this week, just so I know you will buy it."

Me: (enthusiastically) sure! (to my roomie: Can we get to the West Village this week to drop off a deposit? She replies: sure Tuesday!)

Me to JJ: "Sure! We can come by tomorrow after work and drop the $ off. Again I apologize for the inconvenience. "

JJ: "No, I was thinking more like you coming down tonight."

Me: (Appalled) "It is already 10 pm and I don’t have a car. No, I cannot come down via subway just to drop off money for you tonight. I live all way way on the UWS. "

JJ: "Well, you should take the subway #2 and that way it will only take you 30 minutes to get down here. "

Me: (enraged, who the F does this guy thinks he is!) "I am aware how long it takes to get to the West Village. I cannot do it tonight, it is already 10 and I am in the middle of things, have work tomorrow and have plenty of things to do before the night is over. "

JJ: (adamant) "But you were going to come down anyway! "

Me: "Yes, with a car to pick up furniture. Since I wasn’t able to, I am doing other important things in that time. "

JJ: "Well the furniture may be gone. "

Me: "Yes I know, I never asked you to hold it for me!!! Good luck and Bye! "

Geez. Seriously. Who is this crazed, unhappy and super stressed person? He told me he has people coming over tomorrow to look at it, and I was like, so be it, good for you! Let them have it! What is his problem? He wants me to shlep in the middle of the night on the subway for more than an hour R/T to drop off money TONIGHT! I just told him I could do it right after work tomorrow! I mean, I couldn't be nicer.

People like that seriously make me cringe and anxious. I hope the guy finds the peace that he needs soon. Thank God I can choose only to cross paths with them via internet marketplaces.

Allright, gotta get back to searcing for more goodies on craigslist! Next time I cancel, I'm not calling!!!

Scary Suitcase

2007-12-28T14:26:00.000-08:00

So today was a scary day. I work directly across the street from a major, THE major international aid organization of the world. (Hint: two letters, starts with a U). This morning the president of my company gets on the intercom and tells everyone to move to the inner walls. "BACK AWAY FROM THE WINDOWS IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT LEAVE THE BUILDING. YOU WILL BE STOPPED BY THE BOBM SQUAD." What!? First thing I did was look out the window. There inbetween my building and the major international aid organization's building in the middle of the street lie a solitary briefcase. All alone. Surrounded by yellow tape. The avenue normally bustling with thousands of tourists, cars, double decker sightseeing buses was dead. I felt like "I am Legend" was becoming eerily real. All my colleagues and I lined up against the wall of the building clutching our cell phones and calling relatives. After calling all my immediate family members to no avail, I called them all back and in a bit of rage left messages telling them I am in severe danger and might get blown up (yes, I am the middle child and need attention all the time). Every 15 minutes, the president of our company got on the intercome and urged everyone to stay calm. Finally after 2 hours of pure terror, we were alerted that the suitcase has been removed and we are free to leave the building. It turns out that a musician left it behind (doing what? and why was he in this neck of the woods?). Anyway, it made me really concious of where I work, and what type of world we live in and the precautions we make in this day and age. When I finally got ahold of my mother later and told her what happened, she stated that in her time, if there was a suitcase left in the middle of the street, she and her friends would take it and scavage whats inside. However, I know that if any of us had been the one that first saw that suitcase, especially because of its compromising location, we would have done the same exact thing. Freak out.

Manhattan Supermarkets - A Glimpse into the culture of New York City

2007-12-11T10:45:00.000-08:00

I love shopping, I love food, and therefore I love supermarkets. Supermarkets are one of my first and favorite places I visit any time I travel. I truly believe one can gain a load of insight into that particular community by a visit to where they buy food. I am sure few would agree with how important our food is to each of us, especially when interlinked with culture.

However…few would say they love New York supermarkets. Sure many enjoy the eclectic mix of chicken liver, chorizo sausage, kim chee and gourmet olive spread at nearly each neighborhood grocer, however the actual event of going grocery shopping, fuggetabatit!

As I was making saltine cracker sandwiches for lunch yesterday (due to my reasonable salary but desperately inadequate one since I actually live in Manhattan), I groaned and new it was time to head to Fairway, the king of grocery stores in Manhattan. Fairway is truly a Manhattan legendary grocer, with three locations with an infamous “cold room” in Harlem, where all frozen products and meat are in a “cold” room instead of freezer cabinets, requiring you to borrow the store’s down jackets located right outside the door.

Ok, so when I first moved here, I was really missing my big midwestern, middle America type of grocery store, i.e. big, spacious, cheap with millions of items of the same thing in stock and on sale. I could not really believe that the small corner delis were supposed to be my supermarket of choice. I could not get over paying $4 for a gallon of milk. I got Fairway. Fairway is the closest thing to this in Manhattan (albeit they have more items of the same thing here like 20 brands of pasta sauce, there are n0 sales or space)/

Albeit larg(er) than others, Fairway boasts aisles at most 4 feet wide, leading to hundreds of cart accidents every day. I arrived at 6m, after work, along with 20% of the Upper West Side (or so it seemed). I couldn’t get through the first aisle without violently crashing into a family with children, elbowing a business man, and getting shoved aside when I as picking apples leading to a flying fruit propelled across the store. It is NOT fun. However, being an Anthropoligist, avid traveler, and lover of supermarkets, I didn’t offer any words of wisdom for my fellow shoppers that I overheard others giving (i.e. F*$k you!, Dumb@ss! Are you blind?!. Idiot! Etc), but rather chuckled as I realized what we New Yorkers deal with on a daily basis which is probably where all the attitude comes from…lack of space.

Anyway, this trip continued to produce insightful pockets of knowledge into the NYC demeaner as I stood with my #68 ticket at the deli meat counter (which made me #23rd in line). So I along with 25 people stood like sardines in a can in front of the 10 foot long deli counter, waiting anxiously to hear our numbers and get helped accordingly. After quite some time with only a few people being helped, a new deli counter guy came out all jolly an nice singing “It’s a good day, it’s a grand day, how are all you folks going today!” He went on to make a few jokes which got interrupted by ticket holder number #75. #75, who is squeezed in by ticket holder #65 and #67 but a head taller exclaims, “What are you, a comic!? If I wanted a comedy show I would have gone to see one in the village!!!!.” Totally serious. Hmmm. As I was getting helped, things started running a little quicker. It seemed as though several people had ditched their numbers though as the deli counter guys skipped quickly through the low #70s….At # 75, I heard a sweet little lady, defiantly over 70 years of age, definetly under 5 feet tall, whisper loundly with her little white arm holding her ticket high above her head “I am number #72, I have #72, please someone help me.” After about a minute, the deli guy approached her. The little old woman says “Please sir, can you give me two slices of the turkey loaf.” He asks her, “Whach number you got.” She says “72.” He says “well we are on #76.” She replies “But you didn’t hear me, you passed right over me at 72.” He looks at her, in all seriousness, and with anger in his eyes, “Lady, where did you get that number! Did you take it out of the discarded bin!!!? The lady shrieked back in angst, “ You passed me over! Please sir, help me.” Seriously, I thought this guy was kidding at first, but he was seriously fuming and thought this woman was trying to deceive him.

I finally stepped in on her behalf, never really knowing whether NYC is a hard place for this little women to live in, or if she was a true New Yorker and worked the system.

So yes, the “cold room” is cool. The eclectic mix of items is “out of this world.” But the shopping? I now order online.