Category Archives: Uncategorized

The art of flight

I’m currently sitting on my first airplane. Ever. Go ahead, reread that. I’ll wait.

I have no idea what to expect, but I’m ecstatic. Flying through the air in a giant metal tube…how can people be so blasé about that? It’s incredible. I’m about to be airborne. And while I’d much rather just fly through the air on my own, without the need for a “flying machine” (thanks Leonardo Da Vinci for the term), I am still amazed.

Harry Potter ain’t got nothin on me.


The Start of a Frolic-less Year (or I-shouldn’t-announce-my-resolutions-until-after-a-trial-period)

Well, I hate to say that I’ve made a few resolutions this year (because that is usually synonymous with “not gonna happen”), but old habits die hard. I kept the list of goals and wishes for improvement short, but concrete, and I’m hoping the brevity means I’ll keep to it. I’m specifically hoping to stick to my favorite, and most controversial (according to friends, coworkers, and the 76-year old man who overheard me telling the bartender at work about it) resolution: no men, no sex, no dating. For a year. Period. That’s right, I’m cutting myself off. To illustrate why, I’d like to share a little anecdote with you all:

I remember the first time I saw Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. My eyes stared wide and searching at the screen, memorizing every frame. My hands hurt from wringing together stressfully while watching Sam and Frodo fight their way up Mt. Doom.  And then, before I was ready, before I could even fully prepare myself, the screen went black. The theater erupted into applause-which was quickly stifled when the movie started up again. Ten minutes later, the screen

If Aragorn was around, I would probably have a harder time with this resolution. I mean, come on. Look at him.

If Aragorn was around, I would probably have a harder time with this resolution. I mean, come on. Look at him.

faded to black again. This time, the audience reached near delirium-only to be silenced by the continuation of the film. After the 87th false ending, I was starting to think- with some glee, I’ll admit- that the movie would never end. Every time the film started up again, I would think, “Oh, well, that’s true. We needed to see how that finished up.” I would accept that it was the end, have a few seconds of mourning, and then be swept back in for another few scenes, another few loose ties knotted together. Finally, the screen faded to a piercing white. We all sat with baited breath, waiting for what would happen next. And then…the credits rolled.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about endings. Leaving a job, a boyfriend, a bad habit in lieu of a better option, a better way of life. And I’ve realized that, more often than not, what you thought was “the end” is really just one of those Peter-Jackson-wants-to-screw-with-his-audience moments.

Such is the way of my love life.  As my exes tend to find ways to stay in my life  (due to running in the same circles, close proximity, and a variety of other nuances), it has been a struggle to find that elusive white screen for some of them. Even in this blog, I’ve written a goodbye post or two. And yet, here I am, writing about the same guys once again.

I think the more certain we are about things in life, the more we get thrown off balance.  And so, with the understanding that certainty in my decisions always causes me to falter in one way or another, I say this: No man shall see my bed. No morning, afternoon, or evening will be spent flirting over shared coffee cake and tea. No phone numbers will be exchanged, no sleep overs planned, no kisses that aren’t scripted shall grace these lips.  12 days down, 353 to go. Just because I’m counting doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying it…right?

The New Year’s Work Day- How to Survive the Drama-Filled Event of 2012.

A couple of weeks before New Year’s Eve, I made the conscious decision to ask my manager to put me on the schedule that night. It seemed like it might be a fun experience-working at an Irish pub on New Year’s Eve-and was a good way to mix up my usual go-to-a-party-and-drink-a-beer-or-two plans. To my surprise, she took my idea and ran with it: I ended up scheduled for both New Year’s Eve AND New Year’s Day, along with several of my coworkers. So, herein follows a guide/warning/informational list of what could/might/will happen if you work at an Irish Pub on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. I hope my suffering saves you from the same fate.

1. You will have to pre-game at a boozy brunch. Accept this, stop complaining, and enjoy your mimosa.

2.You will buy copious amounts of glitter and spray yourself and your coworkers with it.

3. You will realize that spraying yourself with glitter will cause you to smell like a can of aerosol hair spray. You will then realize that you don’t care, find your coworkers, sneak into the dj booth and spray more glitter.

4. The restaurant you work for will inform you upon arrival that the chef did not show up. You will still be serving food, however. How? By only offering massively expensive platters that will make customers laugh in your face when you suggest them. If they do order them (out of sheer desperation and acute hunger), you will call your sister restaurant. They will make the food, and the busser will run back and forth in the freezing weather to deliver the food. Genius plan. No holes in that one.

5. You will be offered a shot of Fireball whiskey by the bartenders when you go to grab drinks for customers. Drink these. They help.

6. Pizza will be ordered for the staff and put in the kitchen area. It’s okay if you neglect your tables while you finish your slice. They need this time to reconsider doing their third Jager Bomb before 9:30.

7. You delivered a drink? Good for you! Time for another shot.

8. You will wear as many tiaras/beads/hats/glasses/pins as you can find emblazoned with “2013” or “Happy New Year.” This makes you look festive and approachable.

9. You, being the single, attractive (what, with all the glitter and paraphernalia) 20-something you are, will be singled out by the 40-something year old Texan. He will ask you for your number no less than 7 times within an hour of getting to the bar. Go to the bar and get another shot.

10. At midnight, the dj will forget to turn off the music for a countdown because he is drunk. Everyone will, over the course of the next ten minutes, realize that it is 2013. You will kiss your chosen person (there has GOT to be a better way to say that), your coworkers, and half the bar. Accept this. Drink copious amounts of champagne.

11. Continue to serve, even though you have had far too many shots.

12. Stumble home, fall asleep immediately, and get ready for a fuzzy start to the New Year.

Your Holiday Guide to NYC

Well, if I didn’t have a calendar, it wouldn’t take more than two minutes outside to make me very aware that it is the holiday season once again. From the light-strewn power lines to the Christmas trees being sold outside of the Rite-Aid near my subway stop, it’s taking over the streets of NYC. Now, this particular season happens to be my absolute favorite (original, I know). I love seeing my family, cannot wait to eat Christmas dinner (Thanksgiving was a week ago, so it’s totally fine that I’m already craving a huge feast…right?), and I’ve been obsessed with twinkle lights since I was old enough to stick pennies in an outlet. Living in the city, I have the unique privilege of being near a ridiculous amount of fun, free holiday activities. So, I thought I would share some with you, in the hopes that you will get to the city to enjoy a few yourself this holiday season.

K’s Guide to Christmas in New York:

Bryant Park Holiday Market1) Start your day off with a walk through the Union Square Holiday Market. Awesome little gifts, really great loose-leaf tea, and you can totally grab something freshly baked and delicious for breakfast. There’s also some of the best cider I have ever found hidden somewhere amidst the vendors.

pond_bryant_park2) Take your skates to Bryant Park next for the best place to skate in the city. It has the best view, hands down, and is free if you bring your own skates. Plus, if you go on a weekday before school is out, it’s hardly ever crowded.

imgres3) Head over to City Bakery and warm up with some of their famous hot chocolate. You must, i repeat, MUST get the marshmallow on top. It is literally a brick of heaven. Do it.

imgres-14) If it’s getting dark at this point, take a self-led window tour. Hit up all the must-sees (Bloomingdales, Barneys, Bergdorf Goodman, Saks, Lord and Taylor, Macy’s), and scope out any other cool ones on the way. Make sure to watch the Sak’s light show while you’re passing by.

santaland-at-macy-s-20085) Well, now that you’re at Macy’s, check out Santaland! You are never too old to visit Santa. Plus it’s Christmas overload there-so you’ll be sure to get your entire year’s worth of Christmas lights, music, dancing bears in tutus, and candy cane statues.

imgres-26) Finally, end your adventure at Rockefeller Center. That tree is the best part of New York in December. It’s stunning, with more lights than you have ever seen. Get ready to push some tourists out of the way to get a picture. Worth it.

I really hope you get to experience any, if not all, of these things. It is really an incredible way to celebrate the best time of the year. And if it happens to snow while you’re here, well…catch a few.

The Awkward First Date- a Classic in the Making.

I have no false notions as to my capabilities when it comes to first dates: it is there, whether “there” is a restaurant, a movie theater, or a disco roller-derby spectacular, where my awkwardness thrives. Fine. I accept this. It is my cross to bear in this life.

Which is why I am still confused as to how I ended up asking temp boy to save me from being the third wheel on my sister and her husband’s movie date.  Clearly, I had been hit in the head by some blunt object earlier in the day.

Even so, I found myself rushing home on Wednesday to get ready for my date. Or double date, rather. I hadn’t been on a real first date since my first college boyfriend, during freshman year. Four years to let my awkwardness just fizzle away, making room for the new, sexy, confident me, right?

No. No, unfortunately that was not to be my path in life. And so, I humbly offer you my step-by-step guide to making sure your first date is as awkward as possible.

1. Don’t exchange phone numbers. Even immediately after you ask him on a date, when he’s taken his phone out and is fiddling with it in an obvious attempt to get you to freely offer your digits, don’t do it. This will ensure a good fifteen minutes of craning your neck in what must be a graceful, sophisticated way, looking for your date and praying you didn’t get stood up.

2. If going to see a movie, buy your ticket before he arrives. This will allow you to hop around on the other side of the roped-in line while he purchases his ticket. And for the love of God, make sure not to choose to go with the other party (when on a double date) if they go to get food while your date is waiting in line. This gives you ample opportunity to stand in the middle of the theater lobby, alone, without any sort of activity to take your mind off of how everyone is staring at you.

3. Go to a comedy. That way, you laugh so hard, you snort. Loudly. In his ear. He will find this adorable and charming. As will everyone else in the surrounding area.

4. Make sure to park far away from your date to ensure a quick, abrupt goodbye. This creates an air of importance and mystery about your person.

5. Upon said goodbye, be ready to shift forward and backward uncertainly for a few seconds. Do this at a far-enough distance as to make it seem as though you do not want a kiss goodnight. That way, everyone, including families pushing their way past you, can feel equally awkward. Do not, under any circumstances, lean in for so much as a hug.

6. Make your exit unforgettable by practically running to catch up with the other half of the double date.

And thus did I once again enter the dating world, awkwardly and ready to make an impression.  I will say, however, that all is not lost with temp guy. The next day at work, we were back to flirting and joking around, all awkwardness forgotten. Maybe he found my obvious ineptitude charming? Whether an awkward second date is in our future or not, I am content, for now, to know that I have not scared him off entirely. This time.

Any awkward first date stories?

Dead Like George.

Have you ever seen the fantastic show, “Dead Like Me” ? It follows Georgia “George” Lass, a 20-something college drop-out who dies suddenly (killed by an airborne toilet. Yup.) After she dies, she is recruited to become a Grim Reaper, one of many. In this particular version of the legend, Grim Reapers still have all of the responsibilities of the living, they just have a second, unpaid and unchosen job. The show’s been off the air for a few years, but is free on Hulu if I’ve peaked your interest. (Meaning- Go. Now. Watch the first two episodes. Get addicted. Stop sleeping until you’ve finished the entire series. I mean, it was only on for a couple seasons, and you can function on much less than 8 hours of sleep. You have no excuse.)

Anyway, Georgie’s day job is at a temp agency, where she is a file clerk. And after about a week of my own temping, I have to say this show gets it. Right on the nose. My trainer, much like Mrs. Herbig, is overly nice, and loves to make my duties seem much more dire than they actually are (although I am funding people’s retail and lease contracts for their cars, so I guess it’s a little important. But still, the world will not end.) The job is just as dull and full of sifting through mountains of paper as Georgie’s own, and it definitely makes me wish I had a side job as a kick-ass Grim Reaper. At least it would spice things up (and my blog would be so much more exciting).

Although I will say I’ve begun to fall into a comfortable sort of schedule for my workday, complete with break buddies (mainly Temp Guy. Fifteen minutes of making each other crack up in the break room? I’ll take it.), a lunch group (hah. I’m back in high school. But these girls are hilarious.), and a 3 pm realization that there’s still two hours to go, quickly followed by a silent but emphatic plea to the universe to free me from this paper prison. Finally, I’ve gotten the nickname “Team Awesome, Member #1” to stick (I don’t understand it either, but check that off the bucket list), and I have the best cubicle neighbors a girl could ask for.

Along with this happy little bubble of conformity and complacency, there is this need to not lose sight of why I’m working in the first place. Luckily, I haven’t gone so far down the rabbit hole that I am forgetting. Yet. I still smile like a drunkard when I think about NYC, and I can still feel the purpose behind the drive that makes me get up and go to work every morning-the promise that it’ll all be worth it in a few months. Because, after all, George Lass and I do have one pretty important thing separating us-I’ve managed to avoid free-falling plumbing…

…for now.

K’s Room. 5.4.11. (Or other uses for Toilet Paper)

With my impending graduation, reminiscing has become less of a hobby and more of a habit. I assume this is normal, as it’s pretty much running rampant throughout my entire class. Every quick exchange includes a comment about what little time is left and , “Oh! Remember when in freshman year we…” Luckily, I think we’re far enough out from the date that no one is falling into a hysterical heap on the floor at the mention of the time they blew their nose in the dining hall in October of sophomore year. I know this is coming. I intend to find shelter and wait it out when it arrives.

I can’t help but share a memory of my own, one that sticks out in my mind as a milestone in both college, and my life. Don’t worry. It’s not a dramatic coming-of-age tale, nor is it a Hallmark movie moment. Actually, it involves toilet paper. Lots and lots of toilet paper.

So, around this time last year, I was running through life at my usual pace-an all-out, no prisoners sprint. This included 18-credits of classes, two shows, and my lovely job of baking bagels. Rest was not an option, nor was finishing any sort of assignment ahead of time.

After a long, tiring, frustrating rehearsal, and the 20-minute drive back to school, I was not feeling particularly social. In fact, I was downright grumpy. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves grumpy. Before Snow White. I knew that two of my very good friends were on campus, and most likely waiting for me to get back (Let’s call them the Artist and the Intellectual). I was also well aware of the fact that I would most likely have a hard time escaping to my room once I bumped into them. So, to circumvent this, I sent the Artist a text, Hey. I’m exhausted and I have a paper to write, so I think I’m gonna call it a night. I entered my dorm building a few minutes later, dreading the next few hours I’d be spending with Microsoft Word. And there were the Artist, the Intellectual, and Kate (From “A Titanic Evening”), standing rather conspicuously on the staircase, waiting for me. “I know you’ve gotta do stuff, just wanted to say goodnight.” They followed me up the stairs to my room, watching me a little more closely than befit the situation, but I shrugged it off. And then- I found out why.

I opened my dorm room door, and was met by a wall of white. Streamers hung from my ceiling, blocking my view of the room. No, not streamers. Toilet paper. I entered cautiously, expecting there to be something in the room they wanted to obscure. But the toilet paper did not end. My entire ceiling was covered, the toilet paper hanging down in long strips.


I was stunned. And then I was laughing. Uncontrollably. It was as if I was swimming. There was so much toilet paper hanging from my ceiling that I couldn’t see more than maybe 6 inches in front of me. The Artist stepped forward, and announced that this was an Art Installation entitled, “K’s Room. 5.4.11.” It was made up of four industrial-sized rolls of toilet paper and two hours of manual labor. Two. Hours. Then, I began to notice other things. Missing things. All of my make-up that had once resided on my bureau had been replaced by paper replicas. A paper dress and shirt hung neatly in my closet. Even my shoes had been replaced.


Amazed, I called several other members of the house, all of whom seemed to know, but came to swim in my room regardless. A rousing game of hide and go seek followed (really, there was THAT MUCH toilet paper). It was the most unexpected, wonderful, insanely ridiculous thing anyone had ever done for me. Now, excuse me while I go collapse into a hysterical heap.