A Veritable Cornucopia of Fun

Unemployment. Recession. Inevitable depression. Every morning I wake up with a heavy pit of anxiety, self-doubt, fear-that-my-life-won't-get-back-on-track in my stomach. It feels all-consuming and makes me resist fully waking up to face a day filled with such uncertainty. The irony, of course, is that laying there and stewing in it just gives it more power. Once I get moving, take a shower, put some effort into what I wear, and step out into the fresh air, some hope returns. And if yesterday was any indication, in a city like this, there's a story around every corner.

First, we made a beeline for the Museum of Sex (Tyler was adamant about this, and Karen and Laura both said it was worth a trip), where the featured exhibit currently examines the sex lives of animals. No holds barred. I'd rather this blog not show up in unsavory Google search results, so I won't go into details – except to say blowholes, G-G rubbing, and diddling. Now go satisfy your curiosity over at Wired. Upstairs, another rotating exhibit explored the evolution of porn; I'm not prude, but watching such explicit scenes with a bunch of strangers was, well, a bit strange. And proving that there can be too much of a good thing, we didn't even walk through the whole thing because the videos just got boring. Finally, the third floor housed the permanent collection of antique vibrators, archaic sex education books (my favorites below), erotic art from various cultures, extreme bondage gear, RealDolls a la Lars and The Real Girl, and sex machines, which I had seen photos of at Powell's a few years ago.



Midway through, around the art and before the RealDolls you could, ahem, explore, some dude started to linger too long and try to strike up a conversation with me. Picking up women at the sex museum – ballsy, but not gonna work with me, buddy. Overall, it was an eye-opening experience...I think our culture would be a whole lot happier if it was as honest and educated about sex as the museum. Worth the $15.

Our curiosities fully sated, we needed to indulge our consumer whores and headed to SoHo. Melissa loves Mango; there, I was tempted to buy a clearance coat, but decided it wasn't warm enough to warrant the expense. Over at H&M, we were welcomed with a 20% off coupon, which was all the permission I needed to buy something. My weakness. But Mom would have been proud that I also bought only sale items. My frugality was rewarded by walking by Miss J from America's Next Top Model (not really a fan of the show or the androgynous runway coach, but it was my first celeb sighting, so yay!). And then, boom, on the other end of the spectrum, some Canadian tuxedo-clad guy stopped us, "Got a quarter?" Immediately followed by, "Right up the ass." I was too overcome by laughter to dig for spare change before he had moved on to a new target.

We ended up at The Magician to meet Kim for happy hour. Happy, indeed – a well drink and house red for $5! if we didn't have to get to bowling by 8, that bar would have been my downfall. Luckily, Kim dragged us out into a van cab (not Cash Cab, dammit!) to get to The Gutter in Williamsburg, where we met her friends, some of the staff behind College Humor. This maybe could be considered by second celeb sighting since the guys (and one girl, Sarah) star in the new College Humor Show on MTV. They make money just being their funny selves, lucky bastards. Aaaaaand, The Gutter was the setting for the Flight of the Conchords new song, "Friends," from the last episode. Hearing that, I was downright giddy (the two glasses of wine I downed at The Magician probably helped)!

What the drinks didn't help: my bowling performance. 60. Seriously? Such a sad showing. So I drowned my sorrows in a red velvet cupcake at Enid's, then a Rogue Stout (yay, Oregon!) at Bar Matchless. The bars were more crowded, but stocked with the bearded, skinny jeans, hipster crowd I know so well. If beers weren't six bucks, we could have been in Portland. Even the Camel guy, who gives you free cigarettes in Portland, came around, but could only give out free Zippos since free smokes are apparently against the law in New Yawk. Probably for the best. I still signed up for the lighter, though, and when the guy looked at my license he exclaimed, "Portland – that's pretty much heaven, right?" Sigh....you may be right, Camel guy. I'm still trying to figure it out.

Maybe today's walk across the Brooklyn Bridge will help. Valentine's Day parties tonight. I hope everyone feels some love today!

Moving, Moving Forward

Today was a transportation clusterfuck. From Brooklyn to Midtown to the Upper East Side, then down to SoHo, over to the East Village, up to Union Square and back to Brooklyn. Phew! And where, oh where has my sense of direction gone? I got off a stop too early on 5th Ave and 59th, which meant I had to walk over three avenue blocks (the loooong ones) to catch the right train to my interview, with time running short. But at least I got to walk by The Plaza and Bloomingdale's. In search of the crosstown bus post-interview (I'll get to that in a bit), I couldn't for the life of me find either that or the subway. I turned in circles in the triangle between 6th Ave and Canal Street before spotting that controversial bike lane and getting wine at a cigar bar that charges $7 for edamame. Seriously??



And the longest trek of all, I dragged Melissa from Washington Square Park to the East Village to get cheap and yummy Indian food at one of the many spots that 6th Street is known for (we chose Taj because it was the first we saw and we were starving – plus, they had a sitar player perched in the window and we got soup, samosa, entree, rice and naan for ten bucks). In subway no man's land, I decided we'd walk up to Union Square, where I lived during the ASME summer. Now there's a Trader Joe's on the bottom of University Hall, and walking in there made me really feel like I was back in Portland, but instead of the impossible-to-find-a-spot parking lot there was an insane line snaking through the back of the store. We didn't want to wait. (Luckily, for winos like myself, there's a separate wine shop to stock up on Two Buck Chuck).

I'm not sure I've ever traveled to such far flung locales in one single day in Manhattan. Walking all those blocks and climbing all those subway stairs, I feel like I had a hardcore workout. The mental concentration and planning it took to navigate the subways, I feel like I had a stressful day at work (and boy, is that satisfying for an unemployed chick). Along the way, I enjoyed a world of music, quite literally – bongos accompanying "The Girl from Ipanema," an Appalachian fiddler, a cappella gospel, bagpipes, and steel drums. Plus, one diminutive woman dressed like Kermit, in all lime green from shoes to gloves, including streaks in her hair. Wha???

And how, you ask, was the interview? It was good. First, it turns out Fetch is across the street from Brother Jimmy's Bait Shack, where I first sang karaoke and used to dance on the bar with Kristen during many debaucherous nights.



The difference between those memories and today's reality made me feel a bit old, but at least wiser.

The meeting itself was less an interview than a conversation about the how the site (PawLinks, for pet owners to connect, learn from experts, organize care, etc) is being developed and what I could bring to the table. He felt the sample content plan and writer's guidelines I submitted as a sort of "edit test" were exactly what they were looking for, and for once, I felt my confidence in myself return. Because this is a startup, there is no real defined job description, and it sounds like the next steps are for me to develop a proposal about how I would launch the content, how long it would take me, and how much I would charge. I could create a plan that keeps me busy full-time, and he plans for the position to become staff down the line. It feels both amazing and incredibly daunting to craft not only the voice and editorial on the site, but my role itself, from scratch. What am I capable of? What am I worth?

These are the questions I won't be thinking about until Tuesday. It's time to get out and have some fun. After all, it's a holiday weekend! I'm sure my loyal reader or two would like to hear about some crazy nights on the town. I'll see what I can do.

Oh, and want to see my sample blogs for Glamour? Letting it all hang out over on...Broke-Ass.

Good Morning, New York!

Ok, so it's hardly morning anymore. I meant to write this when I woke up bright and early, ready to take on the day, when the sun shone through the windows and I breathed a sigh of relief that it was going to be near 60 degrees today – hardly the frigid wasteland I'd been warned about. I did, in fact, wake up early, but on principle I just couldn't make myself get out of bed (or off the couch) – it was 6am in Portland. Nuh-uh. That's obscene.

Almost eight hours later, I'm sitting in the Hearst building's gorgeous atrium cafeteria (soon to be seen in Confessions of a Shopaholic - barf). Kristen is upstairs, stressing about her work at Delish.com. What I wouldn't give for some work stress. It felt so good to sit in an office, like I had a purpose again. I know I praised being free from the cubicle farm a few weeks ago, but these aren't cubes...they're airy desks, stocked with new Mac technology. There were cupcakes to be had. All in all, not a bad place to come to work.

Last night, I got re-broken-in to New York as we drove through Queens and East New York from JFK into Brooklyn. Kristen lives in Crown Heights, in an adorable studio that she has painted my favorite shade of brown. I felt like I was at home sinking my toes into same the white shag rug we both bought at IKEA. The anxiety I had been fighting off all day seemed to melt away, like it always does at night, and I eagerly anticipated my first day in the city.

This morning, however, the angst returned. Kristen gave me door-to-door directions from her apartment to her office, and I still felt overwhelmed at the prospect of heading in to Manhattan. I am overwhelmed at the idea of the job I'm interviewing for tomorrow – do I really want the burden of creating a site's editorial strategy from scratch again? And I couldn't figure out what to wear!

Keep it simple, I told myself. One step at a time. Skinny jeans, black-and-white striped sweater, and the Jimmy Choo heels I found for $60 at Last Chance in Phoenix. At least I can pretend to be sophisticated (I don't think anyone saw me just eat that Lunchable in this multi-million dollar cafeteria). Just walk out the door, get on the train. And the minute I descended into the subway, that smell, not bad, not good, but the industry and humanity of the city, I felt happy. That brought me back to all the carefree wonder and possibility of the summer of 2003. I need to try to look at these two weeks the same way. Anything can happen – and whatever that is, it will be the right thing for me.

I'm off now to meet Mari at her office by the MoMA. I need to write three sample blogs tonight to be considered for Glamour's new "I'm in a financial pickle" blog. At least that's what I've been calling it. I have plenty of fodder for that! And then I'm going to paint my nails and watch Top Chef with Kristen and try to savor each and every moment, not worried about what comes next.

Tomorrow: lunch with Mari, job interview at 3pm at Fetch (yes, a doggy-themed restaurant for a pet website interview), and picking up Melissa at Penn Station, who is going to be my Valentine. That's when the adventures will start.

I miss Portland. I can forget that when I'm caught up in the sea of people on the sidewalk or on the subway. I've always loved being in transit. But sitting still... This morning, I woke up and thought for a minute, looking out the window, I could be in my living room, hearing the traffic on Belmont. I just want brown walls like Kristen's.