N to the Y to the C

The boyfriend and I spent last week in New York City, hence the radio silence, and I spent the weekend recovering, unevenly burning/tanning sunbathing on our deck under a gloriously, unseasonably hot sun. One definitely needs to decompress after five days in Manhattan.

We landed in Newark and took the train into Penn Station where we walked around in circles until we decided to climb any steps leading upward, figuring we'd eventually come out at street level. Luckily, our hotel was literally down the street from the station, and there seemed to be quite a few people walking around with body bags suitcases, so we didn't feel out of place.

Our first night was spent at Madison Square Garden watching game 1 of the conference final between the New York Rangers and New Jersey Devils.

Yeah, it was pretty awesome. Best part? Souvenir hand towel which I will proudly display when attending yoga classes, 'cause I'm cool like that.

The next day we meandered down 5th Avenue in the rain, on our way to the Museum of Modern Art, which, if you didn't know, is closed on Tuesdays. We didn't know. So we decided to at least check out the MoMA gift shop to soften the blow of disappointment. I bought some handy little journals to jot down my brilliant ideas 'cause I was feeling particularly artsy, you know, all writer-like and shit. And don't writers walk around with journals?

Then we decided to head to Times Square and decide what show we wanted to see that night for which we could get half-price tickets. The only show I really wanted to see was The Book of Mormon which, of course, was sold out, or we could get tickets for like, a bazillion dollars. So, not an option. Unfortunately, none of the other shows seemed particularly appealing so we decided to wander aimlessly about while trying to figure out what to do about the Broadway show situation when, lo and behold...

A nice, young lady asks us if we want to attend a taping of the David Letterman show, for free. This takes a moment to sink in. I used to watch Letterman all the time in high school and university, when I didn't have to get up early. So we decide, what the heck, ya, let's do it! Turns out this chick was legit and we got to see a live taping of the show at the Ed Sullivan Theatre. If MoMA were open on Tuesdays, we may never have seen Letterman.

We did end up going to see Avenue Q the following night, a Sesame Street satire of sorts, where cute puppets have sex on stage and sing songs like "The Internet is for porn". I'm not a fan of the musical genre but this, I enjoyed, especially having grown up watching Sesame Street.

We also made it to MoMa, which was open on Wednesday. I pretended to look like I understood what some of this stuff was about:

I know, very convincing. Don't I look deep in thought? Pink planks make you think, man. Just sayin'.

We also dropped by what I consider to be a holy place, due to my devotion to Tina Fey:

Security didn't have to be so rough with me, though. I mean, Tina and I ARE friends. In my mind. And like The Secret says: "Thoughts become things". I was just trying to manifest. Is that so wrong? (Ok, there was no actual scuffle with security. Only in my imagination, where I enter 30 Rock and cry out: "Tina! Tina!" à la Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire and security promptly removes me from the building.)

I really hope this isn't all that's left of the Occupy movement:

Kudos to this guy for puttin' it out there and garnering some attention but it's one guy. What happened to Occupy? In stark contrast, we stumbled upon a fashion shoot on our way to lower Manhattan:

Ahh, capitalism at its best, selling us stuff we don't need in pretty packages. It was cool, though, seeing this in person, kinda like: "Oh my GOD! Is that a REAL model?" Like they're some kind of endangered species or something. With the right agent, lighting, stylist, hair and makeup artist, coke dealer, personal trainer and chef, I too could be a model.

This is just a cool shot from the 86th floor observatory of the Empire State Building:

On our way back to the airport, we got to experience Penn Station at rush hour, where I was almost smothered to death trying to board a train to Jersey. Then, the train was so packed, we stood in the vestibule. Even though there were other people in there with us, I sensed this was against security protocol since, if you looked down, you could see train tracks in the space where two cars were hinged together, and you had better hold on. Good times...

Zombies and pigs and spiders, oh my!

Lately, I've been obsessed with exploding cherries, pea shooters, lethal chili peppers, lily pads, sunflowers and zombies. Probably an indication of my sheer genius, you know, thinking outside the box.

Ok, no. I downloaded the Plants vs. Zombies app on my iPhone. This shit is awesome. You have to figure out how to kill an onslaught of zombies with plants that have different kinds of powers.

  I know, it looks super cool, right?

I've shifted to this game since I'm stuck on a certain level in Angry Birds, I can't figure it out and I refuse to buy the all-knowing eagle that would help me get to the next level. I'll find the solution myself, eventually. But I figured I needed to take a step back, assess the situation and kill some zombies. Besides, those green pigs can be so smug, with their crooked smiles and big, beady eyes. 

 Look at those green f*ckers. Just starin' at ya, like you're never gonna figure out how to topple that shit over and kill them. Pricks.

I've also been focused on not letting a spider eat my butterfly. Sounds dirty, right? Pervert. It's a new version (or maybe old, what do I know?) of Bejeweled, a puzzle game. 

My stepdaughter also got me onto Instagram - it's like Twitter but with photos instead of tweets, and it has all these cool photo editing tools so the pics you post make it look like you have the hippest effing life. It be dope, bitches. Here's the latest pic I posted:

I know, I could be a professional photographer. I have the inner eye, you know, the vision.

Sometimes, I wonder what my life was like pre-iPhone. What the hell did I do in my spare time? Read? Stay informed about current events? Try to be a responsible and engaged citizen? Bo-ring. 

I'm starting to realize there are endless possibilities for mindless distraction, and I can safely loaf in a myopic cocoon of my own creation, effectively ignoring my immediate surroundings. Who needs social skills anymore? I don't have to talk to anyone. I have my apps.

Besides, I post on Facebook, and Twitter, and Pinterest, and Instagram. It's not like I'm totally anti-social. I have friends, albeit virtual, but they feel real, sort of.

Yep, still a whoring consumer slut

Just when I think I'm evolving, something happens to remind me that I'm still a whoring consumer slut. Last Saturday, my boyfriend innocently asked me to join him on a little shopping trip to an outdoor store since he was looking for a new polar fleece vest. I, of course, thought this might be fun and agreed to join him. However, a red light went off deep in the recesses of my subconscious. Danger, Will Robinson!

You see, it's very rare that I can walk into a store and not find something I want to buy, even when I blatantly cannot afford it. But I thought to myself: "What's the harm? I'm sure it'll be fine." despite my instincts telling me otherwise. 

So, we headed out to our neighbourhood big box, mega outdoor store. Got through the entrance displays without too much trouble. Looking at hats, good. Boyfriend found one he likes. Excellent. You know, I do need another head bandeau thingy to cover my ears because the one I have is kind of ill-fitting. This one is nice, and it's only $5.99! I can afford that. Done.

So there we were, my boyfriend with his hat, and I with my bandeau, looking for a polar fleece vest. Much to our dismay, they apparently don't make them anymore. So, we started to make our way towards the exit to pay for our minor purchases. 

Along the way, we came across some Canada Goose men's winter coats. This caught my attention. I stopped. Major tactical error. "Ooohhh", I said. "Look at the nice colours they have now. These feel really nice. I wonder if they have some in the women's section?"

To contextualize, Canada Goose jackets are the Rolls Royce of winter gear. They're exorbitantly expensive (probably because they're made in Canada) and yet, it seems like everyone has one. I dismissed them because I figured they were "trendy" and I didn't want to look like everyone else. I thought it was some kind of fashion statement, and frankly, why would people pay so much just to look cool?

But let's face it, as much as I tell myself trends have no hold over me, I'm a bit of a fashion slut. Something made me stop in my tracks to look at those jackets. So, we headed over to the women's section and sure enough, they had some in the same funky colours. 

Tactical error #2: I decided to try one on. BIG mistake. As I took one off the hanger and put it on, all the pieces fell into place. I understood. "Oh holy mother of GOD." It was like being wrapped in a pillow. I was convinced it was akin to what it would feel like if I were to return to the womb. 

 

 Mommy?

I wanted one, bad. Except for one, tiny hitch. They can cost anywhere between $600 and $800. Luckily, my boyfriend was there to talk some sense into me. "Don't do it. It's too expensive for an impulse buy. Step away from the coat."

So I did. I removed the warm, fluffy pillow of a jacket and put on my Helly Hansen ski jacket, which now felt totally ghetto and lightweight, and walked away. It was for the best. The jacket I tried on was nice, to say the least, but it wasn't quite the style I would want if I were to buy one, and it would have been a minor financial catastrophe for me had I purchased it that day.

The seed, however, has been planted. I started looking online at different styles, picking out the one I want, plotting and scheming, for I will have one. Oh yes, I will have my Canada Goose winter jacket. All in good time, my pretties, all in good time.

Savvy retail marketing = 1 

Me = 0

** Canada Goose did not pay me to write this. However, if they would like to send me free stuff, I will write a favourable review. I can be bought. 'Cause I'm a whoring consumer slut.

If I were into chicks...

Last summer, my boyfriend had the brilliant idea of listening to books on tape, or disc or whatever while we were on fairly long road trips. If you pick the right books, this is an excellent way to pass the time during a prolonged vehicular journey. We were recently on one of these aventures de la route and carefully chose our selection of audio books.

First up, Chelsea Handler's My Horizontal Life. As I'm sure you've guessed, it's about her sexual adventures, and there are lots and lots and lots of them. Unfortunately, Chelsea herself doesn't narrate the book but after a couple chapters, the actress who was seemed to adopt the same intonations as Chelsea and it was believable. 

When it comes to Chelsea Handler, it was love at first sight. The first time I saw her was in a YouTube video on a celebrity gossip site. She was interviewing Jenny McCarthy and they were dissing Paris Hilton. It was one of the funniest, most irreverent interviews I had ever seen. I was immediately smitten. Who is this Chelsea person and why haven't I heard of her? 

I then found out she had a TV program called Chelsea Lately which was a full half hour of irreverence. I liked this girl. She had attitude, was completely silly, and didn't seem to take herself too seriously. 

A few weeks ago, I got a full hour of Chelsea on Piers Morgan Tonight and the bewitching was complete. Not only was she funny, but this chick was smart as a whip too. Smart, hot and funny. If I were into chicks, I'd want to sleep with Chelsea. But I'd want to marry Tina....

Which brings me to our second audio book, Tina Fey's Bossypants. I don't even know where to start. It was so f*cking good. Funny, sweet, heart-warming, clever, intelligent. This woman, I love her. She touches on various topics from her childhood to Saturday Night Live to 30 Rock to motherhood with her unique gift of being so goddamn entertaining. 

Tina herself narrates the audio book which makes it that much sweeter. It's like having a conversation with her, albeit one way only, but still. It's like she was in our car, regaling us with her many captivating tales. Wow... that sounds really corny, but I can't help myself. When it comes to Tina, I gush. I think if I ever met her in person, I might pee my pants. But I'm willing to chance it since our destiny is to be BFFLs (said the crazy, obsessed fan).

I'm not really obsessed but Tina and I are destined to be soul sisters. Just sayin'.

Is this love that I'm feeling?

As you may recall, I was considering upgrading my cellphone to a Blackberry after some very savvy marketing on the part of my cell provider (Damn you big, evil corporation trying to sell me cool stuff!).

After some reflection and online research, I decided that if I was going to upgrade, I would go all the way, I would not only drink the kool-aid, I would jump into a giant vat of it, and immerse myself completely. 

So I got an iPhone 4. 

Oh holy Moses. You must understand, I'm relatively new to the world of Apple. My closest brush with it pre-iPhone was a hand-me-down, 5-year-old iPod, with music from my CD collection downloaded onto it by my generous stepdaughter.

This iPhone 4 thingy is like crack-cocaine. While shopping for iPhone accessories at the Apple store, a staff member asked when we got the phone. Yesterday, I replied. "Is it your first iPhone?" Yes. "Ha! Good luck trying to put it down!" NO SHIT.

I'm overwhelmed with giddiness and curiosity as I cautiously navigate this new, virtual world. My stepdaughter's already workin' the thing like a seasoned pro. I watch her in awe as I awkwardly explore the device like a baby learning to walk.

I downloaded my first songs from iTunes all by myself, like a big girl, and felt mighty proud. The training wheels are slowly coming off. Now the challenge is to find a balance between being actively engaged in my life, and being completely zoned out while playing with my new toy. 

On the upside, my iPhone won't sit around like my last cellphone, collecting dust. I think that's why I chose to go this route - most of the time, I forget it's also a phone since it does all this other cool stuff. 'Cause, so far, I have two contacts, my boyfriend and my stepdaughter. Yeah, I'm cool like that. My friends and I just don't communicate via cellphone or texting. We're e-mailers and land line callers. Must be a generational thing.

But now that my cellphone is also my calendar, my iPod, my go-to place to check the weather, surf the Net, and sift through thousands of yet undiscovered apps, I don't feel it's a waste. 

I think I shied away from iPods in the past because it sounded so complicated - you needed the iPod, and a computer, then you had to download stuff from your computer to your iPod, blah, blah, blah. 

The iPhone 4 really appeals to my sloth-like nature. It's a one-stop shop. iTunes is right on there and your songs are downloaded onto the same device. No mess, no fuss, very little effort. I'm all about taking the path of least resistance; always on the lookout for what will allow me to maximize my innate laziness.

I used to gladly lend my cellphone to my boyfriend, who doesn't have or want one, when he goes on road trips for business. He's away for a couple days next week, and I don't want him going out on the open road without a means of communication, in case of emergency. This will require that I lend him my iPhone. I'm dying inside, just a little bit.