Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Zipping Through Me-He-Co

On list of things to do before I die, a few were checked off just on my one trip to Mexico last week (hopefully contracting a pandemic-worthy disease will NOT be one of those check marks, that's still TBA.)

But - one was zip-lining and yes - it is now CHECKED.

More to come on the trip I swear.

Thursday, April 23, 2009


It's where I am right now.

Granted it's a work thing, but the Banyan Tree Mayakoba is an oasis on the Riviera Maya that no one has to butter me up to give a good write up about.

It just deserves one.

More to come...

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Listen to This

Good, original, inspired music. It's not easy to find among a barrage of Britney Spears radio hits (which I shamelessly love and turn up at top volume no matter what, where or when), sappy emo twits, headbanging dimwits and rappers who care more about telling you how much money they have than laying down a good beat.

But it IS out there, if you look hard enough. Even if this guy is not your style - he's one of those left who understands the value of good composition, originality and heart. It's all in there - each track a reminder that it CAN be done. Good music is attainable - it's real - even post 1984.

Give it a listen. You may love it, you may hate it - but after hearing this album, written and produced all from the confines of a 1 BR Queens apartment by one man, I doubt you'll argue that he has talent.

And he's my boyfriend, so yeah, that helps ;)

Outrage Defined

Allow me to be slightly preachy for a moment: If you thought that most Muslim countries were liberated and that they scoff at American assistance, I'm sorry, but you are sadly mistaken.

Even a decidedly liberal rag (which happens to be my go-to) reports on the atrocities of certain extremist Muslims. Women in Afghanastan are actually facing the legality of marital rape in addition to making it law that they "make themselves up" if and whenver their husband desires it. Here's an expert from the NYT article:

"One provision makes it illegal for a woman to resist her husband’s sexual advances. A second provision requires a husband’s permission for a woman to work outside the home or go to school. And a third makes it illegal for a woman to refuse to “make herself up” or “dress up” if that is what her husband wants."

It is things like this that make me realize how fortunate we women are to live in America. Can you imagine having to ASK your hubby if you can go to school - and if for some ridiculous reason he says no, you have no choice but to obey? In my book this qualifies as an outrage.

Global Warming from Stoves - Not so crazy?

According to the NYT - primitive cooking from villages in third world countries could actually be contributing to global warming.

That's a hell of a lot of campfires.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

just another tax complainer

Am I the only one whose life seems to end and then begin again every year after April 15th? The fact that I have been doing my own taxes since I was 16 could have something to do with this. I thank my dad for that. He was always of the mindset that if I was old enough for a responsibility, I'd need to know and understand all the subsequent responsibilities it carried. Well at least that's how I look back on it.

When it was time to learn how to drive, Dad took me in his '88 Ford Ranger pickup truck with no power steering, no power breaks, a clutch that was most certainly on its way out, and a bucket seat that couldn't come close enough to the pedals for my little leggies. Yet everyday, we would take the truck to my famous "corner" until I could conquer it. What's to be "conquered" at a corner? Nothing really - unless it's a T-stop, at the top of a hill, and you're just learning to drive. For those of you who don't drive stick, stop signs atop hills are a budding driver's nightmare as it's likely you have yet to get the hang of the clutch and will inevitably stall. Stall I did. Over and over and over again. But then one day - miraculously - I got it. My right foot seemed to magically press on the gas at exactly the right pressure and speed to complement my left foot coming off the clutch. I had found the touch. And after that, I'd never stall again. Pretty much the most difficult vehicle on which to learn the art of motor vehicle operations, the pickup prepared me for anything. To this day, I wouldn't be afraid to get behind the wheel of a beat-up jalopy, slap a few pillows under my bum and hit the road.

In addition to my old car mastery, I also had to learn how to change a flat tire, put oil in my car, check fluids - you know, all those tasks that are actually quite simple yet seem to baffle many girls who've driven for decades.

Thus was the case (and in many ways, still is) with my taxes. I was 16 and started to work at the local grocery store, and soon after, the local restaurant. At year end when my W-2's came to the mailbox, I would not be sending them off to some H&R Block employee, nor would Dad be opening them, examining them and sending the appropriate tax return into the IRS without me ever seeing a Schedule A, B, or C. No, he would sit with me and make sure I understood how to fill out the form - how it works and why.

I'm actually pretty grateful he did this. There's a sense of control one feels when they know they can handle taxes - documents that are more intimidating than they are complex.

And yet every year - I do something I am markedly good at - I procrastinate. And of course every year I wait until no more than one week prior to the 15th to actually use my tax-filling-out skills. And this year...was the worst.

Had I the chance to reverse time, I would go back to January 1st - gather everything I had and do my taxes then. Alas, I cannot and instead spent days under unhealthy amounts of stress and buried under unruly heaps of documents.

Luckily, it's over - and again, the year begins.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

tonight the IRS made me a bad girlfriend

My adoring and fantastic boyfriend just called to tell me he was leaving his sister's art opening in Williamsburg. (I have been cozy at my apartment in Westchester all night attempting to work, watching Lost and squeezing about a million key limes to get a half of cup of lime juice for a pie I will be making tomorrow.) I - thinking this would be the goodnight conversation - was all ready to snuggle up in bed and say goodnight to my dear when he says the following,

Dan: "I have a crazy idea."
Me: "Oh yeah, what's that?"
Dan: "I was thinking I'd hope on the L and catch a train from Grand Central up to see you."
Me: (in complete shock and feeling a slight panic set in) "Are you serious?"
Dan: "Yup."
Me: "Are you sure?"
Dan: "Yup."
Me: "You're sure you want to do this?"
Dan: "Yes."
Me: (now thinking simultaneously, 'Omigod I have been squeezing limes all night thinking I'd have all day tomorrow to do my taxes' and 'Omigod I can't say no, of course I want to see him,' and 'Omigod the IRS is going to come after me because if he comes over I'm literally NOT doing my taxes,' and 'Omigod he is the best boyfriend ever how can I tell him no?!') "Ummm...OK."
Dan: "Do you want me to?"
Me: "Well of course I want you to."

Long pause here. Me thinking all of those things again and again and again.

Me: "I have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow."
Dan: "Oh, you do? Like what?"
Me: "My taxes. I have to do them tomorrow - that's it. It's tomorrow or nothing."
Dan: "Ok, so I won't come."
Me: (proceeding to have crying-fest breakdown over how awful I feel) "But I want you to come!"

You can probably predict how the rest of this went, but the highlights are Dan saying that he wanted to surprise me and had even PACKED his things to come up here, and me bawling hysterically about how I ruined it and he'll never do anything like this again for me, to which he lovingly responded that of course he would and it's not my fault and to not feel bad and every other kind thing he could say that further made me melt.

If my boyfriend decides I'm a heartless bitch and never tries to surprise me with a trip from Brooklyn or Queens all the way up to Westchester - sans car, no less - I am BLAMING THE IRS!

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

I. Want. This.

No time for real posting here, unfortunately.

Probably won't have time to for weeks, reason being I am inundated with obscene amounts of fabrics, wallcoverings, bathroom furnishings and other interior goodies. No, they're not actually around me, but pictures of them have been flooding my inbox as we create our annual DREAMbook product guide. When I get the chance, I'll share with you some of my favorite finds.

Here's one. It's a pillow, from (I think) my new favorite textile designer, Louise Body. Ho hum, this one small item is out of my pillow budget, which currently is about -$3.00.

Friday, April 3, 2009

A Dose of BeautyNews

Check out the April edition of BeautyNewsNYC and you'll see some articles from myself and friends.

One of mine is on the cover so you'll see it here.

Happy beautifying :)

Thursday, April 2, 2009


If you hadn't yet heard, Nine Inch Nails is going on tour this summer with Jane's Addiction; the two together making for the ultimate 90s rock collabo - or so I'm told.

The truth is, I don't really know Jane's Addiction. At all. It's awful that I'm so Trent-obsessed, yet I'm unfamiliar with anything Perry Farrell other than "Jane Says." And yet I find that the two are often paralleled (not compared, but put together, so to speak), perhaps because of their Lollapalooza connection. Farrell founded the show back in the early 90s and Trent played the first one. The two have had a connection that's only grown since then and respect each other greatly. But somehow I never took to JA - not sure why, I just never became a fan. It's one of those things that someone like myself has no excuse for in intellectual music convos, and I've had other such strange aversions within the musical realm. I remember growing up and becoming a massive Tori Amos fan alongside friends who also loved her. But those friends equally loved Ani DiFranco. I had no idea who she was. I do now - no doubt - but at the time I thought, "Who's that, and why does she keep getting lumped in with my Tori?" If you were talking about Tori AND Ani then you obviously were not as big a fan as I was nor did you truly appreciate her genius.

Maybe it's an only-child-ism that forced me to rule out the rest of the "group." It was never this thing AND that thing for me, it was always JUST one; NIN being an example of that. Trent was enough - there was room for no other.

It's funny how we grow out of such patterns. Nowadays, I can't imagine putting one or two bands on a pedestal so high that no one else could begin to touch their greatness. Quite the opposite - I tend to find a new band every month to obsess over; almost as much as I did Tori and Trent back in seventh grade.

But then again, those two still have their pedestals for me and always will. Maybe that means I haven't changed at all - or maybe I have, but SOME things never do.