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Sun, August 19
Party Weekend
Finally went to a HappyCorps party--this one was to celebrate/bid adieu to their old abode on Spring St before they move to a new office.
Man have I been missing out! On the rooftop of the three-floored offices, a band played. There was a trombone player and a drummer (I think?) and someone screaming something akin to "lyrics". I mean, when was the last time you saw someone play a trombone? That shizz is FIERCE.
Luckily there was much free booze (from sponsors!) to keep the HappyCorps partygoers happy. I think there must have been a sign on the entrance that if you didn't have bangs (thank you Koby) you wouldn't be allowed inside. Nearly everyone there looked like they stepped out of an American Apparel ad. And at places like this, try not to be fooled by the guys in too trendy clothing. For example: On line to the bathroom I met a tall lanky boy with shaggy dirty blonde hair in a tight little beater and red running shorts with stripes up the side. I was going to cut in line in front of him (ladies first) but decided that if he had to go as badly as I did, it wouldn't be pretty--considering the short shorts he was wearing. So, at first glance at his outfit choice you think...Gay, right?
Not so. Walking along West Broadway with E yesterday, there he was ambling down the street in the opposite direction holding hands with a brunette (with bangs!).
So the moral is, my single lady friends: cute boys (who unfortunately pay way too much attention to their going out attire than they should) wearing short shorts aren't necessarily gay. Like wolves in sheep's clothing...Kinda?
The best part about the party was that we were encouraged to tag all the walls. So I took a Sharpie and wrote, "Do not become your mother." Then I wrote the word "lipstick" and put a giant X through it. Then the guy next to me told me I should write my website on the wall. I guess it is assumed that everyone has a site these days.
"What's your website?" I asked him. He pointed out his words of wisdom on the wall and explained that he was writing a memoir (snore) and also that he is working on a book of photography. He offered to show me one of his pieces, which he'd saved on his cell phone--but warned that his work is usually much less erotic. He flipped open his phone and showed me a girl's bare booty in a thing, all up close and in your face. Um. Yeah. Sure you have a photography book in the works. Whatever, I called out to Jesse to save me, and I avoided thong flashing picture phone guy the rest of the night.
Ok, so I had a pear infused vodka soda (or two) and I don't think that mixed well with all my migraine medications. I was walking downstairs and caught a whiff of what smelled like a hundred Sharpie pens. I love the smell of Sharpies. I think that's partly why I chose the corporate life. I got to the bottom of the stairs and exclaimed to no one in particular--"Sharpies! It smells like Sharpies!" This big guy with a shaved head turned to me and said, "It's spray paint, not Sharpies. Man you're weird. I need a picture of you." So we took a picture and I held up my pen to make it look like a moustache. "You're such a weird girl!" he told me again. Then, this girl I met upstairs (on line to the bathroom--such a social scene!) came down and said hi to me, and the big guy says to her, "You must be like, really old. You must be older than me!" I tell ya, he sure had a way with words, and the ladies.
Something did not sit well with me (could it have been my migraine medicine mixed with pear infused vodka followed by oysters and then lobster risotto?) at Balthazar later that night, and luckily my friend Alexis (yes, another one) came outside with me. I couldn't help but throw up a bit in what I thought was a shadowy corner of the sidewalk. Boy did I feel like a shady twenty-year-old when this chick across the street shouted at Alexis and I: "You know, there's a REALLY NICE bathroom at Balthazar." I don't know though, if I can blame her. I wouldn't want someone throwing up on my street either...But still. Rude. Right?
Yesterday J and I strolled through the lower east and wandered into Freemans where they were having a sale. I tried to fight a girl for the last men’s small t-shirt that said, “When Fashion Attacks!” but she won. J almost bought a suit, and the whole process was so cool: First they took us out the store, and into the restaurant. Then we went through a secret doorway and up a long staircase. Finally, we entered this beautiful pre-war building. Part of it was designed to look like an African safari tent—with an actual tent that encompassed the whole room. Multiple moose heads hung on the walls. So chic! We were brought to this little old man who was bent over his sewing. “This is Louis, our tailor,” Alex explained to us. J was fitted with the suit and Louis took measurements. Alex took notes and answered calls. A “rugged on purpose” looking guy tried on his finished suit in the room nearby, and walked around like he had better places to be. I couldn’t help but compare the experience to bridal gown shopping with Michele at Kleinfelds on Friday.
There are no secret rooms and passageways at Kleinfelds. First we had to wait for half an hour even though we had an appointment. When I went up to inquire about the wait (ok fine, I was complaining), the girl told me that the wait time is the usual “one hour” within the appointed time. Finally the very helpful and lovely saleswoman, Corinne, met with us and talked to Michele about what kind of look she was going for. Michele looked beautiful in all five dresses. All around us were brides-to-be, with an entourage of up to eight friends and family. The salespeople cast not so discreet glances at the brides’ left hands. Everywhere there were girls pulling and tugging, smoothing down their satin or lace, mothers running their fingers along the fine bead work. Once in a while you would see a happy bride, her eyes sparkling with the realization that no, she did not look fat in this dress, in fact—she looked amazing. No one compared to Michele, who just is effortlessly pretty without being self-conscious about it. But back to the comparison to Freemans: bridal gown shopping could not have been more different than shopping for a fine men’s suit. The fun of seeing one’s friend in a wedding dress usurps the chaos of the bridal shopping frenzy around you, but still…wouldn’t it be nice of shopping for a gown, or even just a fancy dress, could include that kind of private one on one attention men get when buying suits?
Last night, after a wonderful dinner at Craft Steak with friends Rob and V., V took us to a cool wine bar nearby. The floors were that old disco type—squares that changed colors. We played a game of “only step on the red” which I do not think the other patrons appreciated very much.
Today is lazy. We went to a diner for eggs. I’m looking forward to seeing Superbad later!
Posted by lexzog at Sun, August 19 | Comments (0)
Mon, August 13
Lex's World
Check this out. I'm at my parent's house in Jers, and my dad tells me to quickly strike a "Christina's World" pose. A couple of hours later, he sends me this:
Look at the original!
Posted by lexzog at Mon, August 13 | Comments (0)
Sat, August 4
Shelter Island
Now I am finally relaxed. The evidence? I have had a headache ranging from light tension headache to full-blown migraine every day for the past three weeks until THURSDAY morning--the day I awoke in bed at our hotel, Sunset Beach, in Shelter Island. My body is breathing a sigh of relief.
Our mornings have consisted of eating breakfast (Greek yogurt and berries), and then lounging on the beach and (gasp) reading a book for more than the fifteen minute intervals I get while riding the subway to and from work. Yesterday we ventured into the calm waters even though we had witnessed a handful of children run screaming out and yelling that they'd gotten bitten or stung by some mysterious underwater creature. We surmised there must be a lone jellyfish wandering around the shallower parts of the water. J promised that if I made a quick swim to the deeper area, I'd be OK. No sooner had I reached fifteen feet from shore, did I feel stinging from my calves all the way up to my lower back. He felt it too, so we both booked it to shore.
"Woah. No wonder those kids were screaming bloody murder," I said to J.
Apparently the jelly fish problem is such a regular occurrence that the beach bar keeps a jug of vinegar on hand right next to their bottles of gin and vodka. Yes, I know it would have made a better story if J had to pee on me to dull the burning of the jelly fish sting but vinegar worked just fine thank you. Well, that, and a lemon drop shot at the bar.
Jelly fish fiasco included, did I mention that this was still a trillion times less stressful than my life back in the city most recently (what with nearly being evicted, staying late at work almost every night, and just general all around tension for whatever reason)?
J and I heard there was a nice bike ride to a hidden pond about a half hour away. We took the bikes that the hotel just trusts each guest to take and return as he or she pleases, and rode our way up a steep hill and up and down picturesque roads. We almost missed the small clearing leading to the pond, and rode to Wade’s Beach which was beautiful, but two five-year-olds informed me there were jellyfish there too.
We found the pond, and it truly was an oasis. Two skinny French guys recognized us as guests at the hotel by our bikes, and told us that the pond was “very ott”. It was “ott” indeed—almost like a hot tub. It was so clear we could see our toes at the bottom.
On the way back we stopped at Bob’s clam shack, but it was closed for lunch. J bought a pound of lobster and shrimp salad and we biked to the local market and I grabbed some hot dog buns and we made our own lobster rolls. It was the best picnic ever.
We were full from lunch until very late, so we had some drinks at sunset (they don’t call it sunset beach for nothing) and watched all the mid-life crisisers drive by in their shiny toy cars and lazed around. Almost every woman was decked out in a gauzy sundress dress (what’s with the transparency trend?) and either five inch platforms, or flats with leather espadrilles straps. The men tend to have long greasy hair and light, acid-washed expensive jeans with leather sandals or vibrantly printed paper thin button down shirts. I know I shouldn’t sum a whole crowd up but honestly it is too easy at a place like this. Two men standing behind us at the bar, clearly in their early forties, picked up a spoon from the floor and one asked the other if he’d like to go have a “smoke”. They returned to the bar high as kites.
I was really glad that we waited as long as we did for a table because when we finally were seated, we were placed behind none other than….ASHTON AND DEMI! And guess who else was at their table? Donna Karan and her daughter! I was so star struck I almost cried. Because that’s what I do around celebrities, whether it is Richard Gere or a Hanson brother. I’m troubled, I know.
I woke up and took yoga with a couple other women, lead by a beautiful French woman named Celine (of course) who had the body and grace of a ballet dancer. We did yoga by the nearby pond, and as I heard crickets chirp and frogs burping and felt the breeze blowing on my face I was thinking, Yeah. This is what yoga should be like all the time.
Today was a big day at the hotel—a giant yacht came in, flanked by two miniature yachts. J and I watched in awe as a crane lifted down jet skis from the big yacht into the water and the crew flitted about.
We took another bike ride to the pond, and it was fun to go somewhere and feel like you’ve been there a thousand times before. Like all of a sudden, it’s YOUR pond. This time there were more people there—lots of families and kids, but they were a nice breather from the posh crowd at the hotel.
A part of me hopes to catch food poisoning from an oyster tonight--so I don't have to leave this paradise tomorrow. Though, I am looking forward to this week: I have INNER MONOLOGUES on Wednesday, and I am auditioning for a Def Jam/Birthright Israel spoken word event on Friday. Wish me luck!
Posted by lexzog at Sat, August 4 | Comments (0)