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Tue, February 28
Vegas Wedding Pics
The bride to be had what looked like a wreath on her head (but it was really a plant behind her!)
Three racks of baby backs later...
There is a glass cieling...at the Bellagio.
The Happy Couple.
Cutting the Cake.
Me and Michele.
Revelry!
More Revelry!
Posted by lexzog at Tue, February 28 | Comments (0)
Mon, February 27
Vegas Wedding (and I'm Not Talkin' an Elvis Chapel)
Just got back last night at around 1am. The baggage claim took FOREVER probably just because fate decided to throw in just one more wrench into our already bad travel experience. First we got delayed like, five hours. I read every trashy magazine available and ate foods I wasn't hungry for. Then, I got seated next to a nice young girl who at least I knew would smell OK, but she switched seats with a huge man with meaty arms so she could sit with her sister. His leg was all up in my space the whole flight and he had halitosis to boot. My neck hurts from craning in J's direction so as to avoid inhaling the same air as the guy next to me. Every exhale from his direction made me want to barf.
But all that aside...What a weekend! Friday was ROUGH because we had to wake up at 5am and the show was the night before--we didn't get back from dinner at French Roast till about midnight or so. Then I had to do some last minute packing. So our Friday Vegas itinerary was just perfect: Massages at the hotel spas and then a manicure (for me). I was scheduled for a massage at the Mandalay Bay hotel and J had his at the hotel in which we stayed--a place simply called, "The Hotel." (By the way, everything in "The Hotel" had a name that was preceded by "the". Like the mini bar was labeled "The Mini Bar" and the cafe in the hotel was called "The Cafe." The little soaps and lotions in the bathroom were called "The Bath". Kinda funny. Oddly enough, the sign above the restroom simply said "Restroom."
This was the nicest spa there is, up there with Canyon Ranch. I can only say this from what I heard said from the spa goers around me since the only spas I've ever to were the make believe ones Karina and I used to have at sleepovers. It was so wierd for me to try to relax. I had to tell myself, "Stop walking so fast. You are in a spa, not running to catch the subway. You are supposed to be taking it easy. Don't get mad at the women in front of you padding along in their slippers." After my Swedish massage I was able to relax more. I alternated between the hot steam room and the cold pool and walked into the bathroom a thousand times just to sample the toilettries they had: Hand lotion, body spray,q-tips. I didn't even need the qtips I just liked knowing I could use them if I wanted. Something nice about being surrounded by so much plenty. Oh, and being able to use as many towels as you want is just divine. So much better than at home where even though I have six towels in my closet, I "conserve" by using only one for about two weeks and get a bit pissy when J needs a towel too. Cuz then I'll only have four at my disposal. I am nuts.
After the spa, I went upstairs to meet J. We watched some TV and listened to music, and then got ready for the Rehearsal Dinner at the Venetian Hotel. I loved that place! There was a fake sky, and when you walked under it it seemed like the clouds were moving. I wanted to ride the gondola but we were late for dinner (what else is new). These Texans sure know how to party--there was not an empty glass in the house. I convinced all the ladies at my table to have dirty martinis with me. I think Brian liked it the most though because I only saw Michele take a sip. Em's and Jon's parents put on a slide show from when the kids were young, and the toasts lasted for maybe two hours. Em's sister's husband's dad talked about how long the two families have known each other (Em and Jon met at Em's sister's wedding. Jon's mom pulled her aside and said "You HAVE to meet my son," and that was all it took) and about the hard times they'd struggled through to get where they are today. Jon's sister in law made a tearful speech about how she is so happy to be welcoming Em into the family and "when you fall, I'll pick you up. When you cry, I'll cry with you." I get teary just thinking about it. From where we sat in the restaurant, the fake sky made it look like an eternal dusk. You really can lose your sense of time in Vegas. We kept on thinking it was only 5pm because of the fake sunlight. Brian put on a senior citizen accent and said, "Who needs to go to Italy? I bet this is exactly the same. And here they speak English!"
The next day J and I took a cab to a barbeque place that J wanted to try. The chef from that place is one of J's faves from the annual Big Apple Barbeque. Our cab driver was from Afghanistan and he told us a story about a New Yorker who he once drove in 2004 who gave him $100 and said, "I want you to give this to your children in Afghanistan," and how he'd never forget that man's gesture. I looked at J hoping he wouldn't be so moved. The man said, "Now when I go to my country I tell everyone that story and say, "Not all Americans want what The Bush wants."
At the Memphis barbeque place we sampled three different kinds of ribs and I looked at everyone around me: Not a single person was without a donut roll around their belly. I was careful not to scrape the bottom of the mac n' cheese bowl we ordered as a side. They served drinks in huge mason jars--I had sweet ice tea "the way Gramma makes it" as it said on the menu.
We took a cab to the strip and stopped in the Bellagio. The cielings were so beautiful! There were flowers hanging everywhere, and a ton of light pouring in. We went to this big room that had a giant mechanical dog that barked, and a Japanese garden with really interesting fountains that looked like they were shooting water in arcs in the air. Some tool decided to put his hand in the shooting fountain and it sprayed everywhere.
The New York New York hotel is funny--it has miniature replicas of places like Bleeker Street and Times Square. We savored the irony of riding the rollercoaster there, where the cars were made to look like taxi cabs. New Yorkers riding the New York rollercoaster, peering out over a fake to scale Statue of Liberty, soaring over the fake Brooklyn Bridge.
We watched "Date My Mom" on MTV until it was time to get ready. We didn't factor in the time it would take to find The Four Seasons, where the ceremony and reception were held. We went on a wild goose chase for the place, as non English speaking maids pointed us in a myriad of wrong directions. We made it in the nick of time, before the vows!
Michelle and I lost it when Em walked in with Jon and they had their first dance. We were practically dry heaving and sobbing while we tried to take pictures of our happy happy friend. The photographer took 400 pictures of the three of us: Emily smiling and Michelle and I in tears. From the pictures, you'd think we were the spoiled five year olds at her birthday party, throwing tantrums because we wanted presents too, but really, we were so overcome with joy.
The funny thing about Southern weddings is that the groom has a cake too. Jon's was in the shape of a football and said "Texas A & M". Everyone at the wedding knew the school's anthem. We had such a blast. We even line danced.
J, Michele, Brian and I were constantly referred to as "the New York Friends" like we were some kind of rare birds that showed up at the party. It was like, "And now...Emily's FRIENDS FROM NEW YORK would like to make a toast." Almost anyone we spoke to said to us, "Y'all must love New York. It is so much fun isn't it?" It is nice to be reminded sometimes, of what you take for granted.
After a day of eating pork and beef, the sirloin steak they served at dinner was almost out of the question. But it was so good--we did decent jobs of eating it. The steak was served with frizzled onions and over some sort of mashed potato cake, with green beans. This, of course, was served AFTER the salad, which was AFTER the cream of mushroom soup with sweet onions, which was AFTER the shrimp and julienned potato appetizer. Yikes! That's The Four Seasons for ya.
We stayed until the lights were turned on, and talked to Em's and Jon's family. Long after we'd said goodbye to the newlyweds, we briefly went downstairs to the casino. Michele, Brian and I were carded but I was the only one who brought ID so Michele and Brian had to leave. J and I played one slot machine and called it a night. While we were purchasing water from the shop in the hotel lobby, an angry gambler tried to start a fight: "You trying to cut in front of me Man?" he asked J. J immediately backed off. "Do you know what it feels like to lose ten grand? Ten grand. I bet on the wrong guy." (There was a Vargus vs. Mosley boxing match that night). We tried to politely leave him alone, but he followed us through the lobby. He was plastered and suddenly changed his mind about us: "You know, I like you guys. I like you!" We thanked him and said we'd better go upstairs. "I don't usually do this. But can I buy you both a drink?" We insisted that we really had to get to bed. He blocked our way to the elevators and then told us about his pet dog. "I have a...a you know. A Taco Bell." "You mean a Chihuahua," said J. "Yeah, that." He left the dog at home for a few days with a big bowl of food! How horrible! Finally, a guy going into the elevator told this man to get off our case and leave us alone. I swear that gambler guy was this close from making an "Indecent Proposal."
Once in the elevator, our Savior looked at J and I and asked, "You two married?" J shook his head and said, "Nah." "Yeah. I could tell," said the guy. "I could tell cuz this girl's looking at me like she wants it." No, I was looking at you because your eyes could not be any more glassy and your face couldn't look any harder. As we walked out of the elevator he shouted after us, "You sure you're not married?" Even seeming saints are really sinners in disguise. Everyone wants something from you in Sin City I guess. Gross.
So...I'd say two and a half days is all you need to get your fill of Vegas. Next time I'd like to see a Cirque de Soleil show and eat at one of the fabulous restaurants we passed by. I'll be posting pictures hopefully tonight!
Posted by lexzog at Mon, February 27 | Comments (0)
The Show at Mo Pitkins: Misbehavin'
Excellent excellent show. Though the venue was a bit crowded, it had a nice intimate atmosphere. Somehow we even made $$$ off the bar...One day I'll perhaps be able to afford to buy everyone a round :)
I still can't seem to master the timing of the show though. They used to go on for almost two hours, but this one was only 45 minutes. I anticipated having ten performers which is a lot, but if you think about it if each person goes up for three minutes, that is only 30 minutes of material! I'm sure it will only get better with time and practice.
Here is what I wrote, and I will post others as they filter in:
Inner Monologues IX: The New Girl In Town
I was talking to a friend the other day about the idea of "good" and "bad people". Whether being one or the other is a choice, or, if its some part of your chemical makeup over which you have no control. In looking back at my childhood I remember having the distinct notion, that I wanted to be a "good little girl". Something having to do with my parents, or God, or getting presents--I am still not really sure.
But there was one particular day in my fifth grade Hebrew School class when being the good girl wasn’t so appealing anymore. I was playing Mash with Mathew—the hottest boy in our class. I was all set to live in a mansion, marry Corey Haim Corey Haim and drive a pink convertible when suddenly, there was a knock on our classroom door. Mrs. Tet clapped her hands together with glee and warmly introduced us to (da da dad dum) The New Girl.
“Class, this is Jackie. She’s from Florida.”
Floridaaaaaaa, we all looked at the girl, mouths agape. Jackie, at the tender age of 10, was wearing white high heeled ankle boots, a leather miniskirt, and an off the shoulder top. What did they feed those kids in Florida? Certainly much more potent foods than in Bergan County New Jersey. I noticed all the other girls sneak furtive, disappointed glances at their own chests.
Mrs. Tet asked me, “her good girl”, if I wouldn’t mind letting Jackie sit between Mathew and me. I grudgingly shifted my seat away from Dreamy Matthew with his dark, wavy hair, and instead next to Booger Ben—a kid whose index finger never saw the light of day.
By the end of class, Matthew had forgotten me and our secret Mash games. I jealously watched as Jackie messed with Mathew’s hair with her Lolita-red fingernails and as she chased him at recess.
Bitch had stolen my man.
At that moment I knew that if I couldn't beat this girl, I'd have to join her. I'd have to learn how to be Bad. Or, try really hard to grow some boobs.
It wasn't too long before she started inviting me over for sleepovers.
See, Jackie had a Queen sized waterbed. Yeah- a ten year old with a waterbed! To this day at my parent's house, I still have the same squeaky “you’re a big girl now” twin bed I got when I graduated from the crib.
At Jackie’s house we watched MTV until three in the morning. At my house, MTV was considered "inappropriate" and "too sexual" which of course, made me want to watch it more than anything.
When I saw "Vogue" for the first time I was in awe—a woman could...grab her crotch...on television? And Paula Abdul's bestiality themed "Opposites Attract"...where she makes out with a cartoon cat...was that even legal? One night when “U Can’t Touch This” came on Jackie jumped off the bed and started doing the “running man. I thought only Fly Girls knew moves like that.
"How. Did. You. Do. That?” I asked her. She smiled slyly and explained that in Florida, all the kids danced like this at parties.
“You mean, like birthday parties?” She rolled her eyes at me.
Jackie walked out into the den, in her oversized t-shirt and boxers and turned on the stereo. I followed in my dinosaur pj's—the matching ones that my mom bought for me and my brother. I used all my strength to pull the neck of it down until it stretched into a somewhat "sexy" off the shoulder look.
That night, I learned how to do the running man AND the Roger Rabbit.
From that point on, Jackie and I were the “hot bad girls” at Hebrew School. We giggled at nothing in particular in the middle of class and wore mini skirts and makeup every Saturday morning. We snuck over to the nearby railroad tracks to…not really do anything, but it sounded badass.
Yeah. Jackie and I were rebels. Hardcore.
One night Jackie told me to follow her into her bathroom. "We have to be very quiet," she said, locking the door. Jackie had already shown me that she was developing in ways I hadn’t known were even possible. What, did people like, sprout a third leg or something during puberty in addition to everything else?
"My sister wears these,” she said, like she was holding the holy grail of womanhood.
I looked at the contraption in her hand with its little string dangling out one end. Was this some new trend the older girls were into? Did they tie it around their ears?
She pushed the applicator up until the little cotton swab part of it popped out.
"Um. Where...exactly…does your sister wear that?"
“Between her legs, duh!"
I took the thing out of her hands and pointed it between my thighs (like this), squeezing my legs shut to hold it there. Jackie burst out laughing: "No, you idiot! Not that space between your legs! It’s…you know…for when you get your period.”
Blank stare. A period. I thought of grammar lessons, writing exercises in school, exclamation points and question marks. Jackie then proceeded to tell me all about the birds and the bees and all at once, those MTV videos made sense.
To lighten the mood, Jackie suggested I pull up my shirt so we could check on how my boobs were coming along. Then, we called1-800-Mattress and asked them,
"Why do you leave off the last S?"
“For little shits like you!” they said.
Jackie had become my best friend.
And one very fateful, day, Jackie called to say that she was moving back to Florida. Her parents were getting back together but I was heartbroken.
Life….Life eventually went back to normal after Jackie left. I started wearing turtlenecks again and got a new best friend: a quiet girl in my class—a girl who was even more pre-adolescent looking than me. Dreamy Matthew turned into Pimple Face Mathew.
I moved on.
Some years later, I found myself having to face one of the dreaded contraptions that Jackie had given me as a going away present--her "secret tampon stash." I locked the bathroom door, and took a deep breath. Following the directions I remembered her telling me, I stuck the whole thing inside including the plastic applicator and left it there. I winced in pain and walked around almost the whole day, waddling unnaturally. I figured this must be what people meant when they talked about “female problems.”
So I called that “good girl friend” of mine and asked her if maybe I was doing something wrong. She in turn, asked her badass mom—the kind of mom who made us listen to Howard Stern on our way to school while we covered our virgin ears.
Oh, you’re supposed to remove that applicator? I sighed with relief.
It was then that I realized, maybe the good girls weren’t such a drag after all. Hey, if they had cool moms, I figured I could get by without misbehavin' for a while. At least, until college...
Posted by lexzog at Mon, February 27 | Comments (1)
Sun, February 19
Badman is Back!
http://www.badmanbadplace.com/
I'll add you back to my links. Glad you're back to blogging.
Posted by lexzog at Sun, February 19 | Comments (1)
Sat, February 18
Bachelorette Party Pics...Finally!
Penis straw inserted incorrectly hahaha.
All Up In Da Club (at Pacha)
On the speakers like good girls.
Posted by lexzog at Sat, February 18 | Comments (1)
Wild Night
After leaving the Apple store in Soho, all riled up from an encounter with the dumbest "Genius" to work there, we needed a drink. J, Tom and I headed to the Mercer. Tom is getting over a painful breakup, and was describing the process of getting rid of stuff that he used to share with his girlfriend in their apartment. "This is why you should never move in with someone unless you're engaged." I looked at him quizzically. He points to J. "Yeah. The Juice (nickname for J) should really get on top of that before you guys move in together." Uhhhhhmm.....Aren't guy friends supposed to discourage one another from making any major forward moves in their relationships?
J "can only take so much" of the Mercer, so we said goodbye to Tom after one drink and went to Ciprianis. I've only passed by Ciprianis wide eyed and yearning to walk inside but knowing I couldn't even afford a coke there, or listened to M's stories of the times she accompanied an actress friend of hers on her dates with older, rich gentlemen. So though I feigned a casual demeanor when entering the famous eatery, I was really feeling like, "Hey! I'm in Ciprianis!" I looked for all the "glamorous" people. Hm. None really to speak of. Lots of handsome older men traveling in packs without women. Assholes I'm sure.
J ordered "a bellini and bread sticks for the lady." I have a thing for bread sticks. I got one of those fabulous bellinis and get this--they refilled it whenever I wasn't looking! Eventually we decided to forgo the wait and head to...
Babbo. I guess if you go late enough, its not too hard to get a table without reservations. We waited by the bar for maybe fifteen minutes or less. Two separate people asked me if I "could move just a little back please." This has never happened to me before. What, did I smell or something? Please. I wanted to say, "Excuse you--you are sitting at the BAR not a table. Please expect to have less elbow room, you Turd." But instead I just shyly moved a few steps back.
Our perfect table in the corner by the window made up for The Haters. J shut my menu and said he'd take care of the ordering. I love this--love not having to decide on what I'm going to eat. Especially when everything looks interesting and exciting. That's why restaurants where the chef decides what I'm going to eat are my fave. In this case, it was J, who decided that we eat the following: One pound of lobster and spaghetti, pasta orechiette with sausage and broccoli rabe, sweet breads ("the best General Tso's ever"), and the biggest most succulent steak I think I've ever tasted. Even the server was like, "That's a LOT of food." It didn't bother J. He wanted us to taste as much as possible. We nibbled on the steaks, by the time they came to our table (and now I'm fretting because steaks from Babbo are sitting, ignored in my fridge.)
Two desserts later (a warm pignoli nut cake with creme fraiche ice cream on the side and a chocolate and pistachio creation), we cabbed it home and passed out instantly in our food comas.
I swore off food when I woke up with a hangover and stomach ache. Never eating again, I thought. Yeah. That was hours and hours ago. Gearing up for home made pizza now :)
J and I went to the Turkish baths to detox. Not sure if we were so successful since the baths looked a little less sanitary than usual. And usually, they're pretty nasty. I noticed two girls getting the platza treatment--flogged by leaves in the dry steam room. The floggers are really good at persuading naive women at taking their tops off. "It's OK, it's OK," they coax as the girls reluctantly say goodbye to their bikini tops and fold their arms across their chests, thinking the flogger will take painstaking efforts to keep the girls' goodies hidden behind a towel. No such luck. "Relax, it's OK," the floggers say, holding the girls arms over their heads as they hit the leaves on the girls' upper bodies. Embarassed giggles fill the room. I guess the good thing is, it doesn't seem that the other bathers care to look at the often half naked women. Still, it is funny what is acceptible in normal every day life, and how people suspend those rules and insecurities when surrounded by intense heat and heavy Russian accents, in a dark cavernous steam rooms.
Saw Shannon around two at Pain Quotidien. Can't believe how long it had been since we'd seen each other! We caught up and ran all over Soho. We had a blast reading the nasty captions in Toys in Babeland and buying things we didn't need: cheap earrings in a surplus jewlery store, gold eyeliner, and a bronzer (Sephora brand--pretty affordable and looks great).
Ok, going to post pics from Em's Bachelorette!
Posted by lexzog at Sat, February 18 | Comments (0)
Thu, February 16
Women Beware
And the sad part is, I know one of the guys they're talking about here...
If anyone has a good "don't date him!" story, feel free to comment and I'll post it in my next entry.
Posted by lexzog at Thu, February 16 | Comments (0)
Fri, February 10
My Show at Mo Pitkins: Feb 23rd!
Posted by lexzog at Fri, February 10 | Comments (0)
Tue, February 7
ATV Fun!
In the Berkshires this weekend at a friend's weekend house, I got to drive an ATV for the first time. I was simultaneously thrilled and frightened at the prospect. Any time I've gotten behind the seat on a motorcycle or wave runner with a boy driving, I've either nearly died or merely tossed into the water. I don't trust boys and fast machines. But J told me to trust him and that he wouldn't go fast. I made him promise that I would get a chance to drive it if he operated the gears for me (I'm an automatic driver, manual is just perplexing to me.)
J navigated our way up the creek that we followed through the forest first, to show me how to drive the thing. Then it was my turn. As we approached a fallen rather large tree branch, I decided that it would be a good idea to speed up in order to go over it. You know how like in movies, during car chase scenes, you'll see the hero rev up his engine and put the petal to the metal in order to jump over a three car pile up? So. That is what I was thinking. As our ATV made an unpleasant noise, turned its nose up straight in the air with J and I barely hanging on, and as I banged my knee really hard against some part of the car, J cried out, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" It was then that I thought about speed bumps. No one speeds up when approaching a speed bump. Oops. That's what I get for trying to learn something from television.
Another weekend highlight was our visit to PriceChopper. All seven of us rallied to go there before leaving the countryside, and take advantage of cheap groceries. I bought oh, maybe twenty items for about twenty five dollars. That's insane. I buy a lemon and asparagus at Key Food in the east village, and it adds up to ten bucks.
This weekend is going to be J's weekend "away with the boys." Funny, I thought just two weeks ago he went "away with the boys" to Florida, though the boys were his cousin and friend and brother, and not Tom and Carl. And this weekend, though I was there, I don't recall my impeding on his foozball playing, snowboarding, and Quentin Tarantino marathon.
So on Friday, I'm hoping my hair will still look good from my new highlights and blown out straight look from this upcoming Thursday's appointment, I'll be doing the "Friday night with the girls thing". Which is drinking wine and eating. Partaaaaay. And if we're feeling especially rowdy, maybe I'll take them back to the apartment to make home made Valentine's Day cards with Dena.
I found out the other day that my college boyfriend's Harvard friend reads my blog daily. Hey you. This is a hello especially to you.
And, Mike, don't be so lazy if you want to comment on the site. Just sign in like everyone else. If I give in and make commenting too easy, I end up getting spam asking me if I want to enlarge my penis.
Although, the comments have gone down lately. OK, vote, who wants the comments to be easier? If you sign in and make an effort to answer this question, I might change the comments back to being non protected.
Posted by lexzog at Tue, February 7 | Comments (2)