I'm not but love the image. Maybe you're rocking Missoni on a beach somewhere. Good for you, darling. Good for you.
Back at you tomorrow, I'm a busy little maven today. XO
Good morning, Wednesday. Had myself a lovely workout this morning, and now happily listening to Spotify, the best thing to happen to my musical repertoire since, well MTV?
As all of you know, MTV is 30 bloody years old. I have always told you I am pretty much textbook Gen X, and very proud of it. Sure, there were other eras that have seduced me more than the 80s, but it was fun growing up during that time, and a lot of it was because of MTV. After all, we were the MTV generation, just as today's crowd in braces and training bras and changing voices are the digital one.
How did this inform my life and many more to follow, and more importantly than just you and me, how about culture at large? I won't soon forget the day when I got MTV- for some insane reason; Philadelphia was a late bloomer in bringing cable TV to the masses. It took what felt like forever, but once I got it, I couldn't turn away. For the first time in history, there was a channel for me, speaking to me, playing music for me. And there was Duran Duran. In Sri Lanka. Who even heard of such a place, let alone watch a video shot from there? MTV completely changed pop culture- if pop music was a product in itself, MTV was the delicious, addictive package it came in, yet also the medium for artists to express themselves in new ways. The early videos were super high concept and over the top creative, the later ones more slick and well produced. But regardless if you were the Art of Noise or Madonna, you needed a damn video. It became part of selling music, and it changed the way we see music stars forever- suddenly, you had to have a real "look" for TV- sure earlier pop stars were insanely stylish, but now looks and style were a huge part of selling a record. Duran Duran being the perfect example- those boys were so cute (except for Andy. Blech) and had so much style- it was a band created largely by an art school aesthetic, a new romantic vibe, and of course, MTV. Back then, we did not have Facebook- we connected over MTV, and waited breathlessly for video premieres we could talk about the next day in school. Remember the Thriller premiere? My whole family watched that together, and we had a party to accompany its release. That's how huge MTV was, and how powerful its engine fueled by stars like Michael Jackson came to be.
And MTV, which started at the start of the most gluttonous decade of all time, summed up the mood of the country, and the world, during that time with the simple tagline "I want my MTV". I wanted it, you wanted it, and we all wanted it. But then we wanted so much more, and here we are 30 years later with this debt ceiling debacle and a country that wanted too much, so much so that we can't pay our bills. MTV was smart enough to play on this gluttonous desire that was rearing its overhairsprayed head at that time, and they put a man on the moon. That man was an icon of pop culture, big money, and undeniable influence to sway, influence, and keep ahead of a generation that grew up wanting more. That moon man really was a giant step, for pop culture and a generation raised on a steady diet of videos, big hair, and John Hughes films. It was our channel, and that's that.
Not to mention what the channel did for rap music and metal. If MTV had not been around, little me in suburban Philadelphia and my then future husband in Louisville, Kentucky would not have known about the beginnings of hip hop, thanks to Yo!MTV Raps. The most genius thing about MTV is you could literally go back in time now, watch some vintage clips from the channel, and find out exactly what was happening in culture. I was thinking this am about when the channel fell off for me and there was a time when I didn't want my MTV. Like, at all. It was somewhere between high school and college, but during college the whole Seattle thing came about, and once again I was riveted to MTV to watch this new band Nirvana tear shit up in a way I didn't completely understand, but was completely fascinated by (admittedly grunge was not my fav era of music, but there were some serious gems there- Nirvana being one of them). And I won't soon forget Kurt Loder's genius reporting and hard hitting interviews, or the time Courtney Love got in Madonna's face at one of the awards shows. Amazing.
Think about what MTV did for globalization- suddenly we had MTV all over the world, yet it was a uniquely American costruct at first- and they even nailed the local thing before there was all this talk of hyperlocal- each market had different programming, all somehow tied to the plasma of indigenous tastes and cultural likes. And their ability to curate content the way they did had never been done before, the MTV brand was built first on videos, then unique content. MTV is part of our culture, a barometer for pop culture, and a pulse for youth culture that should be required viewing for any parent confused about what their kids are doing- and I still believe this to be true, though now there are even more places to look for clues. Oh and how about pioneering reality TV with "The Real World"? Genius.
And let's not forget about 120 Minutes, where I found a lot of artists in the alternative space that I might not have otherwise discovered, even though I listened to a ton of college radio. Ooh and how about how they used to show "The Young Ones"? That insane show from the UK about those whacked out British roommates? Vivian. OMG. I remember one episode where Madness played and I thought Suggs was one of the coolest looking dudes of all time. And then I named a stuffed animal after him (aww).
As I sit here and listen to Ben Fold's version of "In Between Days", I can't help but think every single one of us is somehow affected by MTV. I feel very lucky to have grown up during that time, with MTV beside me to cheer me on, fascinate me, and piss me off (there was a real backlash to commercialism and selling out in the beginning, then it became part of the vernacular of success in the business- who cares who shills for what now...but back then. Not cool). I wish somehow, that I could still just want my MTV, whose presence in my life during my youth was hugely important- before I wanted so many other things like success, true love, and hair that doesn't frizz. Back in the day of braces and asymmetrical hair, all I wanted was my MTV. Oh, and John Taylor to be my husband. That too- all because of those videos on MTV...
And speaking of videos, it's very hard to pick my favorites, though my all time faith is most definitely "Freedom 90" by George Michael, complete with supermodels. Though I also loved all of the Huey Lewis videos, (I did, ok?) Hall and Oates did great ones; Robert Palmer killed it with his sexy brand of suave, as did ABC. And you can't have this conversation without shouting out Billy Idol, Cyndi Lauper, The Culture Club, Madonna, MJ, and Janet Jackson, and naturally Duran Duran. There are so many others I am forgetting, but I am sure you can summon your own video file in your brain and come up with more. If you do, let me know. Some may say that MTV diluted culture, forcefed it to us, and commercialized music to the point of no turning back, as well as conveniently packaged youth culture for Madison Avenue to exploit for years to come. Fuck them. It may be true, but it's still an incredibly profound and amazing media machine that changed the world. I for one am glad they were around to accompany my angst filled youth. I think I may have ended up in advertising because of MTV actually- I was so drawn to the packaging of culture, and the ability to disrupt and affect it (remember when we used to do that?).
Happy, happy birthday MTV. Your influence on my life, and the lives of countless others, is tremendous and seismic and globally iconic. Big ups and I feel lucky to have grown up with you. And that's what's up this moon man of a Wednesday in the MIA, and I still want my MTV, and so much more. XO
Two posts in one day, kids. Just because...
So I'm a fan of Lost at E Minor, that blog of all things cooler than me, and most likely, you.
And I saw this piece by illustrator Carmen Ortiz on there today, and as you know, Richard Ashcroft is my idea of perfection, and admittedly one of my aforementioned muses. Those cheekbones...oy. And this illustration is right up my alley- I am a huge fan of figurative painting and drawing as many of you know, and if you didn't, you know now. I can easily picture hanging this in my casa, and if so, Mr. Ashcroft will be the bittersweet patron saint of my home, by default. Fingers crossed...
So long story short, I just wrote to Carmen to find out if this piece is for sale, and if it is, I want. You like? That's what's up for post numero dos today. Wish me luck, and why are you still reading? You have muses to embrace. XO
Good morning, Tuesday. Today was gym day off- I slept in (till 7:20) and that extra hour was divine. Sleep is a dream.
And speaking of dreaming, I’ve always been an imaginative girl. I’ve often wondered where my fashion sense (and wacky take on the world) was born from, and when I look at things like the Free People catalogue for Fall, I understand why I have always loved fashion and where my imagination has allowed my style to take me.
While other little girls may have been picturing a life as a princess or ballerina or President’s wife, I was staring at pictures of Marianne Faithfull and Anita Pallenberg and the Shrimptons. Sure they were way before my time, but their style mesmerized me. I fantasized about being a rock star’s chick- resplendent in layers of fur, tapestry, granny glasses and silk stockings. Fashion is nothing more than a reference- sprinkled in with one’s own unique conceit. Had I mentioned my fascination with such chicks to some of little school chums, I would have gotten blank stares and hollowed eye suspicion. I don’t know how it happened that I devoured references that were clearly not in my realm of life in sub par suburban Philadelphia, but I suppose that’s what kept me sane in an otherwise dull existence. I moved on to the 70s- Halston and Liza and Roxy Music album covers, and then to Nancy Spungen era punk, whose look and boyfriend Sid terrified and excited me at the same time. But I always came back to the bohemian look- it has always served my constitution and mood and body type. Now that I am approaching a bit of a middle aged style crisis, I have to be careful to never go full boho, as in head to toe. I run the risk of looking like Eddie from Ab Fab coupled with a sex therapist in Long Island a la Babs Streisand in the “Meet the Parents” franchise. But I still take parts of it and incorporate it into my daily look- I like to do the cool rock chick thing at all times- I’m simply not a sweater and pearls kind of girl- Lord love those babes, but those babes ain’t me. I love the classics, but conservative is simply not my vibe. The Free People book, entitled “in Venice, August 2011” and shot by Guy Aroch, is a well styled ode to all things Anita and Marianne, as tears and years go by. I can so feel the inspiration meeting- where some young willowy fashion chick proclaims the theme for the book as “Anita in Venice”. And a hush falls over the room because it’s fucking fashion genius, and at a nice price point (for most pieces) to boot. I am so feeling the floppy hats, flowy frocks, and there is a pair of low heeled distressed brown ankle boots (speaking of boots) that I would gladly give up a year of eye cream for, with a few rouge Coco Chanel lipsticks thrown in for good measure. (They are $578, so that about figures I suppose. I’ve somehow gotten good at math in my old age)
Free People is not a terribly spendy brand, thus it’s always been a favorite for its vintage aesthetic and sunny hippie vibe. For some reason, I am obsessed with their store on Main Street in Venice- the one in New York is fine, but buying these kind of clothes in Cali feels even more perfect.
There is a crocheted dress that is sexy as all get out, and enough fur trim (fake I assume) to get my ya yas out.
Had Anita and Keith (somewhat post Brian Anita, after Keith and Anita dumped his disturbed ass in Morocco) gone to Venice, this is indeed how she would have dressed. Blonde hair certainly helps this look, but with those boots beckoning and a million other things to spend my money on this fall, the upkeep would prove challenging. I love these girls because they were super feminine, but also tough, which is something I have always loved when it comes to style. Oh and being cool. I must somehow feel cool in my clothes or I feel like, well, not cool. Look at Anita and Marianne here- it's too much to bear. What STYLE.
The simply sherpa coat done with shorts is completely over the top sex on a spoon, but I would do it with a legging and high heeled ankle boot or a pencil skirt, with a bare leg. Yes. Oh yea. I adore clothes that are casual but dressed up at the same time, and never, ever fussy or terribly over structured. I know you girls today love those bandage dresses, but I find them to feel like a sausage casing, which in fact, they are in a fancy, overpriced kind of way.
There are few things in life that keep me as inspired as fashion does- and when I see a well styled reference in my mailbox, I still die a little bit. And speaking of I die, I can’t help but not shout out Ms. Rachel Zoe, who reinvented Nicole Richie and countless others to be Boho princesses, with great success. I think one of my favorite looks in the book, though not for me, is a polka dot blouse with velvet pants, because it does that androgyne thing so well- you can so see Mick or Brian rocking this back in the day, with his peacock printed lady by his side. Sure they would be flying on Lord knows what and the drugs eventually wreaked their havoc, but the elegantly wasted thing is also a huge style influence ,even if coconut water and a good night’s rest is more your idea of a good time (yea it’s kind of mine these days, but so what. Have you tried the Taste Nirvana brand that comes in a can? Amazing).
I love clothes that are cool and sexy and thrown on- that’s boho chic and it works anywhere, as long as you don’t go crazy with it you can incorporate a little Anita/Marianne into the every day. Velvet pants are on the list for Fall by the way- they remind me of Tom Ford’s insanely infamous collection for Gucci back in the day, which I keep in my style rolodex of the mind forever and always. So I encourage you to brush up on your fashion history- sometime we need a bit of studying to chart a course for next season. I’ve always wanted to go to Venice, and now I know what to wear. Although I always pictured a more 1920s flappery moment there for some reason, while hanging at Cipriani, sipping on bellinis at Harry’s Bar. PS fashion should have an air of fantasy- perhaps that is why I never went full classic- what’s the fun in that for me? Plus, for me, it’s a bit boring. I don't do that. It’s not good for my constitution. It has to be a bit cooler for me to dig on it. So yes, I still love fashion- it still moves me as doe all of my muses and inspirations and delicate little nuances. I love sharing these things with you because they are fun and cool and an apt distraction from the bullshit we are hit with each and every day in the news, and with people that schedule meetings every day at lunchtime (must we do that?).
I am happy to still feel moved by the things that were consistent themes for me growing up- rock and roll, fashion, and of course if you've been reading my blog lately, New York, the big mama of all inspiration for this here maven. I hope you find something inspired in your day, something cool, something free spirited. When life gets you down, go to the muses- wherever they may reside- in your imagination or in the rooftops of some urban landscape or on top of a mountain somewhere. Just go there- I'll see you when you arrive. Here are a couple more sexy fab cool looks
Cause that's what's up this honoring the muses kind of Tuesday in the MIA. XO
Hi, Monday...I am tired of being hot and I am confused by the werepanthers on "True Blood" (though I love the term) but other than that, I am just ducks. I saw some interesting things on love and marriage this weekend that I wanted to share. So here goes.
I was watching CBS Sunday Morning yesterday, who did a comparison of civil unions circa 1980-something vs. today. We're talking the City Hall variety of marriage. As someone who also eloped, this piqued my interest. In addition to the odd wardrobe and hair choices that took place back in the 80s, you could not help but get choked up watching two people, deeply in love, ready to tie the knot, with just the two. It was a lovely slice of life, but fast forward to now and how the notion of marriage has changed- a recent survey (2010) of 2,691 Americans done by Pew in association with Time magazine found that nearly four in 10 Americans think marriage is becoming obsolete. That's an 11 percent spike since 1978, when Time asked the same question percent of Americans found marriage to be unneccessary and obsolete. But then gay marriage was passed in New York, and suddenly, marriage became interesting again, and ultimately, redefined. Why are us married people always so unsatisfied I wondered? Why can't we keep the spirit of those brand newlyweds of the 80s? I know why. The same reason a dog, well, you know. BECAUSE WE CAN.
We have always been able to get married, as long as we were a man and woman, we could. It didn't matter if you were fat, poor, grossly wealthy, or dumb as a post. You could do it- and that's why we take it for granted. Because we can. For many same sex couples, they couldn't. Like, ever. And now they can, and they appreciate it more than we ever have. And if you talk to many same sex couples, they will tell you they have been married for years, and this is merely icing on the cake, not to mention a validation of their rights as an American and a spouse. But us straights have decided that maybe this marriage thing is not working out, and that maybe people are better off alone. That could be true, for some. But imagine if that right was taken away- would we still feel the same way? Sure marriage is challenging and confusing at times, but how lucky are we to be able to do it? To make a choice to run off to Vegas or go big at the Pierre? Damn lucky is the answer.
Take another piece I read in the Times this weekend for instance. It was about a teenaged couple in Afghanistan, who were sentenced to death (not only by the courts but by the prompting of their own families) for falling in love. Yes, it's true. Love was their crime, punishable by death. These two kids fell in love, and it was not an arranged marriage, but rather by their own choosing (imagine that and now their parents wish them dead. Can you even fathom living in a culture that does not allow you to choose who you can love, and further, murders you because of it? Call me ethnocentric for not understanding such a thing, but what kind of world do we live in that this kind of insanity still exists? It's hard to believe that this is happening, but it is- and it makes me realize how much we all take for granted. And on the flip side, we're lucky we can also choose to end relationships if they don't work out too- but honestly can we start overlooking some of the perceived faults of our partners and realize just how lucky we are to have the rights we have ,whether we choose to marry or not?
Hey, this debt ceiling thing is surely fucked, but at least we have the choice to love who we want. Let's hope the law for same sex marriage passes nationwide. Love is all we have anyway, isn't it? That and freedom of choice.
Cause that's what's up this free to love who we want to kind of Monday in the MIA. Love sweet love, people. XO
Here is a link for a sweet photo essay of same sex wedding days in New York:
http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/07/24/nyregion/20110724-gaymarriage-p...
Good morning, Friday. I woke up feeling shite yet again and kind of can't wait to be back home. I had a lovely time in the city and hope to be back very soon...I love being here, right down to the amazing kimchi/ramen thing I had last night at Kori in Tribeca. Delicious. Just like the city- hot, spicy, and ultimately, comforting. Oh, I love New York. I do, I do, I do.
Kisses to you and yours...sending love, heading home later this afternoon. XO
Greetings, Thursday. All of this excitement and passion and intense love for Manhattan has gotten me good and sick. It seems the garden variety summer cold, but it has me down, so I'm bunkering today and tonight and doing some work and trying hard not to be tempted by all the fun.
A friend of mine told me about the closing of the Oak Room at the Plaza, whose final night open for business was last evening. Yes, it became a tourist trap for those that were schlepping the family of four to see where Eloise lived, but it was an elegant New York room and an absolute institution of New York grandeur. The New York Observer described it as the "gimlet-eyed Oak Room" which I find apt. Amid talks of lawsuits and civil rights violations (?), the place had to go. It was a lovely place to have a martini, let's not kid ourselves. Yes, the general thought of going above 14th Street is nosebleed worthy, but there is nothing like Central Park and the Plaza and the old world New York that is lovely and lyrical and important to romance. Cole Porter and such, I suppose. Oh and very "As Time Goes By". Needless to say, I loved it.
But more proof that nothing is forever was the shuttering of the Mars Bar, who heaved its last whiskey soaked breath right around my birthday (fitting). What's amazing is that this place was where no Plaza type would be caught dead- if you ever frequented the Mars Bar, you know what a treacherous, disgusting, beautiful dive of a bar this was. And if you ever had to pee there, ooh, let's not talk about their bathrooms so early in the morning. I myself count the shuttering of Mars as more symbolic of a New York gone by- of a grit, a rock and roll, a fuck you to the establishment lets get drunk kind of thing- it's way, way more of a bummer that this place went down, and that the East Village is becoming super high end. That in itself is kind of bullshit, but what can we do about it? New York is a resilient place, and everyone got over CB's closing and becoming a Varvatos store (I must admit, it's a great stab at keeping the integrity of CB's, even though it's high end clothing and boots intended to look aged), so I am sure the end oft the Mars Bar is a mere blip in the radar for most, but a sign that NYC has lost an indelible edge. The Mars sheer shittiness was the stuff of legend, and if you ended up there for the evening, you were guaranteed a sort of Bukowskian on high doses of hormones kind of experience coupled with a slight element of fear. Needless to say, I loved it.
Oh, well. Doesn't matter really because you can just pop over to the High Line and distract yourself with the sheer force of urban gardens and insanely beautiful views of the city- edgy, fussy, or otherwise. And the Tom Colicchio joint/food truck spot under the girders is fabulous and filled with up for it, adorable New Yorkers just hanging out. There's still plenty of fun to be had here, whether you're more pink and green prone than black and blue.
And that's what's up this tail end of an amazing trip to New York from my current perch on Central Park West. I'll be back soon, both sides of my punk and posh soul- of this I remain devoted and know to be true. XO
Sorry my readers but all of this excitement has made me sick...have a nasty cold so going to take cover and try to soldier through...right after I hit the Agent Provocateur sale in Soho that is- we're talking $20 bras ladies. Can you believe? Oh and boys, the women who work there wear very sexy uniforms, so stop there and pick up something special for someone special, would you?
And that's what's up this never too sick to shop for frilly, pretty things kind of Wednesday in the NYC. XO
Good morning Ruby Tuesday. Who could hang a name on you?
I am up early working a bit so I can pop over to an am spin class and get my soul cycled. Just love that place more than anything. Have much to do today but hoping to pop over to the ICP and check out the Elliott Erwitt show. Below is a great shot of his from Paris, and his take on urban life and living are directly in line with how I'm viewing the world today- as a happy observer. If you are in New York this afternoon, let's meet there and happily observe together.
Last night I wrote the below post after some good wine with a dear friend (I think there was a dirty martini involved somewhere too). Sure it's a bit over the moon, but it was a fun night with a great girlfriend...sue me for being grossly romantic and mushy. Here it is- hope you enjoy it:
So check it...New York. New York. New YORK. I have talked about New York more than any person should, pretty much ad infinitum on this here blog. But G-ddamn. I love me some New York City, and here’s why. When the weather is nice, as it is this fine evening, there truly is nothing more genius and lovely and rocks off amazing as this town. It is one of the few places in the world where I can be alone, walking along darkened streets, listening to music on my Ipod, and feel so incredibly connected, so very alive, and so operational from the gut. No other city has me as finely tuned as New York does, and man, it turns me on.
I am not sure there is another place on Earth where I would feel so comfortable strolling noirish streets, listening to old Kinks songs and Bowie’s “Queen Bitch”, and smiling ear to ear because I know a good moment when I have one. Sure I had to kill an animal sized roach last night, but all is forgiven. I will enjoy your company again, very very soon, you big apple. You always give me something amazing, my love...
All of this topped off a fabulous dinner at Minetta Tavern, and boy- that place matters. It matters because it’s a uniquely New York conceit- full of life, noise, style, good food, and interesting conversations to easedrop on- all the things that makes a New York evening so spectacular. (I’m not sure what to make of the weird guy in the embellished leather vest, but eh, fodder). Minetta Tavern is a fantastic place to eat at the bar and remember why you live to love this town- oh and girlies- if you are single, come here- there are tables and tables full of men breaking bread, devouring steaks, and drinking expensive red wine. Go to there. Now. It’s clubby and downwardly (yet upwardly) chic- think a more modern and cooler Sardi’s. Truly a gem. Eat at the bar. It's lovely and sophisticated without being stuffy. Tonight was one of those New York evenings when you realize life really is a beautiful, lovely, sexy thing. There is no city that inspires me more than my Manhattan- give me your huddled masses and such- I’ll take them in my arms and hug them to pieces. Since the weather was no longer oven baked, I walked off my meal and spent the evening gazing at old buildings and remembering why I have always felt that living in New York at some point in your existence should be required in this thing called life. It’s simply that good, that vital, and that special. New York makes the world go round, or my spinning universe anyway. I need this city like I need plasma and good shoes. New York will always be home to me- even though I grew up in Philadelphia, New York wraps me up and takes care of me in a way that no other place can. The people who live here and engage in their daily banter have a lot to do with it, but so does the architecture, the light, and the ability to get what you need, when you need it. And a good cod cooked in parchment coupled with some laughs and great wine doesn't hurt. Hope you are enjoying where you happen to be bopping around today. I hope it can compare to my very own brand of NYC worship. Though nothing does- not even close. Amazing that a place can feel so yummy to one’s soul. When I am inspired and energized there’s no stopping me. PS Queen Bitch is a good choice for a stroll through late night Manhattan, and here is why, courtesy of Wikipedia... "Queen Bitch" is a song written by David Bowie for the album Hunky Dory. Bowie was a great Velvet Underground fan and wrote the song in tribute to the band and Lou Reed .
Take it from me and then take it from old Bowie- New York is hunky fucking dory. Always will be. Amazed at how much this city gives me every time I come. And that's what's up this delicious apple of a Tuesday in the best city in the world. I suggest you find your own New York and seek its truth. It’s the only way. XO
Good morning, Monday. It's been a fun couple of days in New York, though the heat almost did us all in. It was like a Dali painting outside for days but now the temperature seems to be dropping, albeit only suggestively and just shy of 90 degrees. I'm off to Soul Cycle and getting to the business of the gym again- for some reason it was tough to consider working out when Manhattan was like one big shrinky dink.
I've been here for almost a week now and rented an apartment two blocks from my old stomping grounds. Being in Soho is always lovely, and I forgot how good the iced coffee at Olive's is. Not to mention the shopping. Oh, the shopping.
But one thing I forgot about, as one often does when one romanticizes a place, is the steroidal nature of the roaches here. Now I live in Miami where the palmetto bugs could very easily stage a coup and take over the city if they really wanted to, but New York cockroaches are a sheer force themselves. I went out to Connnecticut yesterday fro a bbq and came back tired and excited to get to bed early so I could get my butt in the gym today. But nothing like a showdown with a Manhattan roach to make the heart race before bed. There before me in my little studio was possibly the biggest, most vile roach I have ever had the privilege to behold. Jesus Christ.Bloody. Hell. Fuck.Fuck. Fuckkkkk. I couldn't help but wonder if he had been working out. He was swolled. Super duper, David Barton-like swolled.
In case I haven't been clear, I'm not talking about a little bug here, people. I'm talking about an animal sized vomit inducing roach who could have easily fucked me up. And the monster was ON MY BED. And then the meaty bastard crawled onto my computer. Sweet mother of G-d. Quickly I reached for the first aerosol thing I could find- Lysol. Don't do that by the way. It doesn't kill them. It just makes them germ free. Shoot. Me.
This little fuck had to go- and I had to go into survival mode or I would have this guy crawling into my dreams. Quickly and frantically I grabbed my highest heels, put them on with my nightgown, and stomped the life out of that awful crawly nasty, nasty huge bug. And it died. But then I had to get to the business of wadding it up in a paper towel, which almost had me puking. Ugh. I fucking hate bugs. Especially big ones.
But it died, and I didn't, nor did my love for New York, though I slept with one eye open, a feeling I remember very well from living here. New York is like that- keep one eye open at all times- even though you are having a lovely day, there could always be something or someone to keep you on your toes- always being ready for a fight is the New York code. In this case, it was a roach the size of a child and not someone trying to steal my cab or push me out of the way at a sample sale. But it was a force, this much I will say. Did not make for a peaceful Sunday. (And yes, I am totally and ridiculously girly when it comes to bugs, mice, or anything else that crawls and does not belong in the home). Thanks to David for coaching me through it all- I of course called him at midnight and he was more than happy to help me summon the cajones to get through it. Oh and now my sink is gurgling menacingly for no apparent reason...New York living is not a picnic, though the roaches seem to think so.
Abd that's what's up this bug free (hopefully) Monday in the 2 to the 1 to the 2. I killed a giant roach last night, but not my spirit. Don't worry, New York. I still heart you. You're just better when you're bug free. I still dig your gay marriage, amazing bagels, and friendly souls. But those bugs? Non. XO