Call for Sweet Products. Please?

But before I get to all that other stuff I've said I would blog about - I must tell anyone who might catch a glimpse of this that I am on the hunt for products. Very cool products. Products that can be placed in boutique hotels. Or spas. Or restaurants and nightclubs. (I.e. I'm not looking for your favorite sneakers - we're talking furnishings people.) Specifically products in the following categories: textiles, wallcoverings, bathroom, flooring and bedding.

If anything comes to mind - you know, that really awesome marble floor you saw in that office building you had that luncheon at last week, the super slick sink you saw at the bathroom of the new club you hit up last week - after the luncheon of course, the sheets in the window of Crate & Barrel (yes they have a hospitality division now) which you walked be the morning after the club, slightly hungover but coherent enough to think, "Hey, those are cool sheets."

Anything at all, send it my way and I will do the investigative work. It may end up in our annual product guide, DREAMbook and I'll owe you. Thanks y'all.

Shameful

That is what my recent lack of blog posts is. Just shameful.

As I read the blogging triumphs of my friends, particularly a one Miss Isms and another Chelsea Gwynne, I am driven to utter embarrassment at my complete neglect for my own blog. I'm sorry dear, I haven't forgotten about you - really. Let's give us another shot, eh?

Alright, I shouldn't be soooo hard on myself, and considering the upcoming tidal-wave sized barrage of work that has begun to crash over me and practically drown me before I've even had a chance to meagerly try a breast stroke - the blog slacking will likely get worse.

BUT, I must remain optimistic and in so doing, here is a list of topics I plan to blog to you all about in the coming days:

- Tartuffe (yes people still perform that play)
- Auditioning when you're not an actor but sort of are at heart
- Gommorah - not the one from the bible that begins with Sodom, the movie version
- Layer Cake, round 2 (still don't get it)
- NINJA - as in Nine Inch Nails/Jane's Addiction. Yes.
- Dangerously bold lipstick

And perhaps some other topics that cross my mind...we shall see where the wandering takes us.

"Oh Baby Baby"

It is official. This is Brit's brand.

It's not just her favorite phrase to coo over pop-drenched drum beats and synthesized vocals. It's not only the key phrase of many of her biggest hits.

It is her identity.

It's somewhat sad to think one of our generation's biggest pop sensations can be pared down to a phrase that is so simple and syrupy it hurts: "Oh Baby, Baby." (Mind you, this is a very specifically-sung version of a surely popular lyric. For the purpose of this stream of consciousness of mine, disregard any connection you make with real music and this lyric.)

Perhaps you'd like examples? Surely.

Baby One More Time: "OH BABY BABY, how was I supposed to know?"

OR, also from that first classic:

"OH BABY BABY, I shouldn't have let you go."

And another?

Oops I Did it Again: "Oops I did it again. I played with your heart. Got lost in the game OH BABY BABY, oops you think I'm in love..."

Sure, I got more.

I'm a Slave 4 U: "OH BABY, Don't you wanna, dance upon me?" (OK, fine that one's missing a "baby," but I'm counting it!)

And of course...

If U Seek Amy: "OH BABY BABY have you seen Amy tonight?"

Is this all mindless? Yes. But mindless-ness as it relates to Britney is mindless-ness I like ;)

Why I Love My Boyfriend

Because I wake up to e-mails like this:



And of course for many many other reasons.

<3

You're on my Radar

I'm too tired now. But I'll give you a taste:


The Brit blog soon to come.

Fade Into You

I was in the aisle in Stop & Shop yesterday talking to the boyf - we were discussing music - particularly the new Neko Case album that Rebecca let me burn for him since he heard one of her songs at a play reading we went to and fell in love with it. That topic led us to Mazzy Star, since Neko reminds us of her. I mentioned Fade Into You as her best and biggest hit. Well, my darling didn't remember how it went and shockingly, I could barely remember any lyrics other than the chorus line. One of my all time favorite songs, and I couldn't drum up the lyrics. Of course I had to rectify that by google-ing them immediately. In honor of this generational classic ballad, here they are. Cue in nostalgia...


I want to hold the hand inside you
I want to take a breath that's true
I look to you and I see nothing
I look to you to see the truth

You live your life
You go in shadows
You'll come apart and you'll go black
Some kind of night into your darkness
Colors your eyes with what's not there

Fade into you
Strange you never knew
Fade into you
I think it's strange you never knew

A stranger's light comes on slowly
A stranger's heart without a home
You put your hands into your head
And then smiles cover your heart

Fade into you
Strange you never knew
Fade into you
I think it's strange you never knew

Fade into you
Strange you never knew
Fade into you
I think it's strange you never knew
I think it's strange you never knew

Are we in 2009?

Shocking.

Tenant Hell

Last Saturday, my dearest Samantha was moving out of our lovely apartment in the legendary Van Tassel apartment building in Sleepy Hollow that for two years now, I have fondly called home. This happened to be a day where I had no less than 86,094 things to do. Essentially a normal Saturday. One of these things I committed myself to - in addition to and during the moving of course - was baking a banana bread for my dearest Daniel. Amid rushing home from the gym, writing, and helping Sam move, I concocted my version of the Hodgson Mills bread with three times the bananas, extra almonds and...well I can't give it all away now, can I?

I was feeling pretty good about my accomplishments for the day as I poured the deliciously goopy batter into the pan and popped it in a freshly warmed oven. I jumped on to the next task: "Sam, give me a box!" I said, as I raced through the apartment on Superwoman fumes. I grabbed the largest one there was and we started our exit down the three flights of stairs. (You might think that next I'm going say that I fell or dropped the box or something equally painful, but just wait.)

As we were leaving the apartment, behind the massive box I managed to muster up the strength to ask Sam if she had her key. "Yes," she replied, as I locked the door behind me, ready to return in a few short moments to a perfectly cooked banana bread. Dan would be so proud of my multi-tasking - which so efficiently involved the cooking of the bread.

After descending the three flights and dropping the box at the curb, it came time to go back upstairs. And that's when the madness ensued...

Kelly: (calmly) "Can I have the key, I need to go take the bread out of the oven."
Sam: (calmly) "The door's propped."
Kelly: (plainly) "No it's not."
Sam: (still calm) "Yes it is, unless you un-propped it just now."
Kelly: (a tad nervous) "It's not propped, I un-propped it. Can I have the key?"
Sam: (quite baffled) "What key?"
Kelly: (tension and frustration quickly surfacing) "The key, you said you had the key."
Sam: (waving car key in my face, tension and fear now undeniable) "Yeah, the CAR key!"
Kelly: "No, the HOUSE key! You said you had it!" (DUH!)
Sam: "I don't have the HOUSE key! I have the CAR key!" (CRAP!)
Kelly: "Why the f**k would I care about your stupid car key?!" (now in a complete screaming panic while jumping up and down)
Sam: "I don't know! I thought you were being polite!" (the all-too-nice-and-innocent Sam that you cannot possibly be mad at)
Kelly: "F********************K!" (now both jumping up and down. The scene is straight out of I Love Lucy. Guess who's Lucy)

The events that happened next involved: me running to the office of course to find no one there on a Saturday, as usual; me running to find our trusty upstairs neighbor, Paul, and attacking him for his phone to retrieve the maintenance emergency number; Sam doing at least two laps around the entire block to find someone, anyone, to help, including the on-the-corner-man whose name escapes me; Sam running into several street-side bodegas looking for - I'm not sure what, really; and us discovering that our neighbor is actually a fireman. When he saw our crisis he got on the phone with a friend and we overheard, "Should I go get the axe?"

This is all happening a mere half an hour before the NEW roommate is set to move in. I suddenly have a 12-second fantasy of her walking up the stairs, suitcase in hand, move-in clothes on, ready for a new start, only to see a somewhat-hot fireman axeing down our front door. I think she would have turned around.

We got through to the emergency on-call man who should be on the property at all times. I told him we needed to be let in. Now. The oven is on. No time to waste. I hear him on the phone saying to someone else - not me - (insert ridiculously stereotypical Bronx accent), "I gotta go, there's gonna be a fi-ah!" Since I couldn't discern his words and he didn't realize I was still on the phone as he spouted complaints to his company, I decided to call him back to be sure he was on his way. He answered rudely, yelling, "YEAH! I'm comin', I'm comin', Jesus Christ!" He arrived in a huff about 15 minutes later, only to yell at us for "Ruin-in' his lunch wit his girlfriend," which he had "just sat down to," and now had wasted "25 bucks." He left more angry than he came. Sorry pal, but this IS your job.

Luckily the new roomie managed to miss all of this.

Sam rushed inside and immediately pulled the bread out of the oven.

Perhaps not surprisingly - considering mine and Sam's tendency to create mini-crises over which to panic - the bread was cooked to perfection. That night, it was consumed by the Geiger family, who knew not a thing about the near-catastrophe surrounding it's baking.

Self B-Day Present

No that is not me wearing these super-hot pants. And surely the pair I bought is at least 3 sizes larger than the one painted on this leggy model. BUT - I bought them nonetheless. They look pretty fly.

And I like them.

Happy Birthday to me!

I deserve a self-b-day present, no?

Coming Soon...

...guest blogger.

On my blog.

Get excited.

As Promised

I know it was a while ago now that I promised a follow-up review to my initial YYY It's Blitz! impressions. Apologies - being on deadline at BD and trying to plan some semblance of a birthday didn't allow me much time for blogging. But I am here.

After listening to It's Blitz! I dunno...maybe 10 times at this point...I think I can sum up the album pretty succinctly, or at least attempt to. Here goes:

In this album - the band's third, complete studio record - the YYYs are noticeably more positive in their message. The positivity errs on the side of poppy, sometimes too closely. The angst is mostly gone. Perhaps this is a nice change for the YYYs - I can only imagine what the recording process must be like when all your band members are either angry, depressed or battling serious anxiety. But is it good for us? The loyal fans who are expecting that emotionally-charged and passionate-but-catchy sound?

The answer is both yes and no. No, for obvious reasons. We're expecting something. And we're not getting it - exactly. But can we really expect a band like YYYs not to push themselves, not to experiment? If that's what we want, we are closing our minds to the possibility that uncharted waters can be good. And luckily with It's Blitz! that is the case. Which brings me to the "yes" part. Yes it's good for us because the YYYs manage to do something new and different and do it well. The dance-vibe that the band has only touched on in the past has been mastered in new songs like Heads Will Roll and Dull Life. Even Zero makes you want to move. It's good indie rock which, in my opinion, we don't see done well often enough.

While the music's fervor is considerably less stormy, it is still charged - this time with a more get-up-and-dance affectation. Still, there are refrains within certain songs that hit that nerve - the nerve you want hit but can't quite describe how it happens. The chorus in Hysteric - though reminiscent of a Jerry Maguire line, how cliche - undeniably hits that nerve, particularly if you've got someone to relate it to.

Lucky us who do.

Love.

I want.



Maybs for my bday I shall gift them to myself :)

NO, it's not because the boyf has them - I just like them! OK?!

alright maybe his new pair made me jealous...

:(