Watch This.

Someone in my art class posted this on facebook. You have to see this, if you haven't already. It's simple and brilliant.

These Sneakers. I Need Them.

Remember Beanie Babies? Everyone was obsessed with them. Including me. A new batch of them would come out each month or so, and then the previous ones would become "retired," meaning they were no longer manufactured and were therefore worth a zillion times more than they were just a few weeks ago. Some of them would go for $5000. These are plastic bean-filled stuffed animals no bigger than a shoe that probably cost six cents to make. But I didn't care. I had to have as many as possible in hopes that they would someday become rare and valuable and support my first down payment on a car.

Well, a few years later, no one could care less about them. I now have several huge boxes in my attic brimming with bean-filled dogs, roosters, dragons, rabbits...all with the coveted "ty" heart tag still attached on their ears. Some of these tags have protective plastic coverings on them to ensure they never became separated from the Beanie Baby, because then it would be worthless.

 

They are all now exactly that, tag or no tag. 

I hadn't felt that intense desire to have something material in years, until I saw these sneakers in Nylon magazine (pictured above). Nike collaborated with the magazine to create these limited edition neon solid-colored version of the Nike Dunk Hi. I needed to have a pair. I am a sucker for anything neon, after all.

The magazine said they were only available at certain Urban Outfitters stores in NYC. So I called all of them (there are three), but no one seemed to know what the deal was with these sneakers. And I kept getting disconnected. So then I called up the Nike store in the city, where no one knew what was going on with them either. Everyone had been waiting for them to arrive, but they just never showed up. These damn sneakers. They are like that flaky friend everyone has.

Miraculously, the manager of the Nike store called me back and told me the pink and green ones had already been released two weeks ago only on urbanoutfitters.com and they were sold out. Dammit, I wanted the green ones. But the other three were being released on the 15th. 

Right now, it is June 14th, 11:14 pm. I am waiting for the clock to strike midnight, when I will swiftly log onto urbanoutfitters.com and see if these sneaky sneakers are actually for sale. If they are (and are under $150), I am getting them. In blue. Maybe orange. And telling my parents it's an early 21st birthday present. 

Cravin' for Curry

So last night, I cooked for my family and it was successful. Thank god. 

I made this really good curry chicken salad and I want to share it with all of you because it's easy, delish, and summery!!!  

(When I say things like that, I worry that I watch too much Food Network.)

1. Sautee some chicken breast with garlic, onions, salt, pepper and curry.

2. Cut a bunch of grapes in half.

3. Chop up a bunch of apples.

4. Cut the chicken into cubes.

5. Throw it all in a big bowl.

6. Blob on some mayo. 

7. Stir it up.

8. Put in a little milk so it's not too gluey. Stir.

9. Sprinkle on lots more curry, salt, pepper and chopped garlic.  Keep adding these to taste.

10. Stir again.

Done!

Did You Miss Me??? I Knew You Would.

It's a new summer, boys and girls! With my new and questionable amount of spare time, I'll have no excuse to slack on the blog anymore. So here's to another summer of hanging out, working, partying and blogging.

But what shall the topic of my first entry in months be?

Hmmmm...I guess I'll announce that I got a job today!!! And by job, I mean an internship, and by internship, I mean an unpaid internship. Which means I still have to find another job for income. But never mind that...I'll figure that out tomorrow. For now, I am officially the sales/marketing/everything else intern at a publishing company.  Wooo!!!! It was probably my sweet high heels that got me hired, seeing as my interview was at 9 a.m. and I haven't woken up before 10 since...well, I don't even remember.  I'm just glad I got through the interview because those are scary.  Oh! I have my own cubicle.  Eeee!

Now, anyone who has been on a job interview knows that there are many things to stress about before hand.  How will you describe yourself? Is your resume done? How will you answer the questions? I find, however, that by far the most stressful aspect of interview preparation is you outfit. Dress? Shirt and pants? Skirt? Crap! This one is wrinkled. Do I wear stockings with this? Which pair of shoes? Are these too casual? 

Ugh.

For some of us, our mothers are there to make outfit selection 100 times more complicated than necessary. This involves going to Brooks Brothers with mommy dearest so she can play Barbie and dress me up in all sorts of button down shirts and slacks (not pants, they are slacks).  When I looked in the dressing room mirror at my Brooks-Brothers-made-over self, my mom told me how great I looked, but I thought I seemed about 30 years older.  I really liked the tailored shirts, but the slacks are going to have to wait.  I'm in no rush to wear zippers up to my belly button.

We didn't buy anything at Brooks Brothers. Too expensive. I settled for a dress from Forever 21 that I already had, auburn leather heels and my hair back in a bun. Voila! 

Things Are Getting Cozy In The White House

Under the Bush administration, required Oval Office attire was a coat and tie at all times.  

President Obama, however, prefers to go throughout the day sans suit jacket, making the White House dress code a little more casual.  

A front-page article in yesterday's New York Times said President Obama is adding "presidential style" to his list of things to change.

Last weekend, some of Obama's aides showed up in the West Wing wearing coats and ties, while others chose to wear jeans.

Jeans??!?!??!!? Who the eff wears jeans in the White House?????

This was too much for even President Obama, who declared that all weekends will now have "business casual" attire.  Last weekend, the president rocked slacks and a gray sweater over a white buttoned-down shirt.  

"Workers from the Bush White House are shocked," said the Times article about these new wardrobe choices.

Obama likes to crank the thermostat too, another reason why the suit jackets got nixed.  

"He's from Hawaii, O.K.?" said Obama's senior advisor, David Axelrod.

Well that must be nice, while the rest of us only turn our thermostats up just enough so the pipes don't burst.  If you're cold in the house I come from, you put on a sweater and have a drink.  Some of us need to keep our oil bills down.

If You Need A Laugh...

The other night, my mom and I watched a slew of Youtube videos together.  A different and modern way to spend quality time together, I suppose.  

First, we watched a bunch of original Little Rascals movie clips from the 1930's.  These kids were really talented and I wondered if you could train a four-year-old child of today to perform the same routines.  Doubtful, since children no longer seem to have an attention span of longer than five minutes.

Spanky is so cute in this one:

Here's some Alfalfa:

And some Darla, when she's tiny:

When we wore out the Little Rascals, we started watching stand up comedy.  My mom showed me some older comedians and I showed her my two favorite guys from today.

Here is my mom's favorite George Carlin routine called "Stuff":

The delightfully politically incorrect Don Rickles:

I now know where my grandpa gets all his material from watching Henny Youngman:

My personal favorite, the late Mitch Hedberg:

And lastly, my other favorite, Pablo Francisco:

Things That Currently Make Me Extremely Happy

1.)  New Mary Kate and Ashley book "Influence" that Bill got me for Christmas.

2.)  Two sicknasty pairs of shoes from Anthropologie that I bought yesterday, both on sale.

3.)  The City.  I want to be Whitney.

4.)  The brownies that I made last night, which I took out of the oven slightly too soon so they're nice n' soft in the middle.

Childhood Joys Of Pantyhose

At the dinner table tonight, my grandma and aunt were talking about funny things I used to do as a little kid.  One in particular gave us all a good laugh.  

My mom never let me have long hair when I was little, which just made me want long hair even more.  If I had long hair, I imagined I would look like a princess.  At one point, my hair was cut so short that a woman in the grocery store looked at me and said, "Oh, what a cute little boy!"

I was immediately scarred.  Soon after, I took action against the oppressed state of my hair.

After seeing the movie Aladin, I must have developed a strange obsession with princess Jasmine's long black ponytail that always bounced behind her.  This was completely unrealistic cartoon hair, but Jasmine's locks were all I wanted in life and I was determined to have them for myself.

When I was about five, we were at my grandma's house where my aunt also lived at the time.  Bored, I went into my aunt's bedroom to play.  I opened her drawers and found a wealth of pantyhose in shades of nudes and blacks.

This is a classic case of a kid finding amusement in the most unexpected objects, the way babies open a toy on Christmas morning but have more fun crinkling the wrapping paper than they do playing with the toy.

These pantyhose kept me occupied longer than any Barbie or tea set.  I would intricately tie them across my aunt's bed posts and drape towels over them to create forts, or just indulge my hands in their fragile, stretchy texture.

After a while, the true calling of these pantyhose finally came to me.

I took a black pair and stretched the open end over my head, like a hair net.  The two empty legs hung down on each side of my face and reached my waist.  I looked in the mirror at myself, and instead of seeing a little girl with black pantyhose stretched on her head, I saw princess Jasmine with her long flowing black hair.

Finally my prayers had been answered.

Delighted, I made a beeline to the living room where my grandma was reading on the couch.  I was feeling rather fabulous with my new hairdo, so I sauntered down the stairs, one hand on my hip and the other flipping my new nylon locks as I said in a low, seductive voice: "How...do you like...my hair?"

Needless to say, my grandma almost fell off the couch in hysterics at the sight of me, but she let me wear my new hair around the house for the whole rest of the day.  Nothing could have made me happier.

Staying Sane In New Joizey

Hi everyone.

Right now, I'm unfortunate enough to be in the state of New Jersey for several days.  I'm here visiting my grandparents.  I love my grandparents-I'm pretty sure they're the only people left in the state whose heads aren't permanently encased in a shield of hairspray and who don't have ridiculous lawn ornaments outside of their house.

Other than my grandparents, there is one thing this godforsaken state has going for it: the mall.  I don't know what New Jersey's residents would do with themselves if it weren't for the mall.  The one near my grandma is huge and glitzy with bazillions of stores and some decent restaurants.  

I was surprised at how many of the stores in the mall I had never even heard of.  One of these stores, called Ruehl, was my favorite of the day.  The outside of the store looks like an old brick house with black windows...I was intrigued.  The inside had dim lighting, clothes folded on dark wood tables and black and white pictures of models.  Imagine Hollister for 30-year olds.  The women's clothes were pretty lame, same old A+F look, but the menswear had some great pieces, like thick long-sleeved shirts with big buttons offered in every color.  They also had some beautiful leather bags in the $300 range.  I later learned that the store is in fact a branch of A+F with a New York twist.

I also hit up Sephora for some much-needed makeup.  I walked away with some Stila concealer and some sweet purple metallic Urban Decay eye shadow.  I can't help but love a makeup brand who has eyeshadow colors such as "Stray Dog" and "Midnight Cowboy."

After an afternoon of shopping and walking through crowds of teenagers who badly needed haircuts, we headed for The Cheesecake Factory in the mall.   Everyone always raves about the Cheesecake Factory...I have yet to go.  Too bad the place was packed with an hour and a half wait.  There were tables next to the bar which were first come first serve, but whenever someone left a table, it was like watching vultures fight over a carcass.  

We opted for a nearby Chinese restaurant where we succeeded in pouncing on a bar table and shared some lemon chicken, curry noodles, crab dumplings and a sesame cucumber salad.  

After driving past strip malls and rows of identical plastic development houses, we made it back to my grandma's house where we were safe from the fake nails, ugg boots and gold chains peaking out from hairy chests.