My Best Advice to You ...

Things are not good right now (January is such a bad month anyway, but now we have that whole recession thing mussing it all up a bit more than usual). I know a lot of you are running around like Chicken Little screaming about the economy -- or just doing it like me, and sinking into the sofa grumbling about it with a bottle of Cutty Sark. Mmm. Crappy booze.

Hey, we all have to cut back somewhere.

Well, things are going to get better ... someday. In the mean time, I present you with the 80's Music Video of the Week. It gives me fond memories of living in Chelsea. Enjoy.

Need Internet, Will Try Anything

Click on the button to hear my attempt to plug the ethernet cord that stretches into my room from the living room into my "roommate's" modem. [This will redirect you to the site where I'm hosting the file.]

Some background: I covered the red carpet at the International Emmy Awards last night, and needed to e-mail my event file to my boss at Us Weekly -- so I needed an internet connection. I noticed the ethernet cord in the room I'm renting from the lady I live with, but I found that, after follwing it along doorways and baseboards, that it was not plugged into the modem.

Since it was raining and the coffeeshop I ususally go to for internet access was already closed, I thought I would ask my roommate to let me plug HER cord into HER modem so I could plug it into my computer, knowing that she might flip out. But hey, she's already kicking me out, so what have I got to lose? I started recording our "conversation" after about three minutes.

This isn't on the recording, but the police came -- 3 of them -- and she shut the door in their faces when they showed up. Then they threatened to break the door down, and she let them in. They listened to her rant about how I have no right to use her stuff, then they took our information and left. The end.

I had to go to Noah Taylor's house to use the internet. Thanks, Noah!

It's Official...I'm Homeless

The angry old lady I live with has given me a week to move out. Her breaking points?

- I didn't use both hands to shut the door when I was leaving for lunch today OR when I went out yesterday evening. This caused the door to shut more loudly than she likes.

- She said I was "stinking up" her apartment with my perfume, which I never used for this very reason.

She called me while I was having lunch to yell -- YELL -- at me over this stuff. The convo kind of went like this:
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[Phone rings, I see it's Erica.]

Me: Oh, great. [answers] Hello?

Erica: Yeah, hi, Sarah. I have asked you to use two hands to close the door and you're not doing it. You shut the door loudly last night, too, when you went out.

Me: No I didn't. I did it quietly.

Erica: [getting agitated] You didn't use two hands, you did it loudly last night, not when you came in, but when you left to go out.

Me: No, I shut the door quietly [knowing that it was actually too loud for her].

Erica: -- and you used your perfume the other night -- now this is how it's going to be --

Me: I never used perfume.

Erica: Well, I'm not going to argue with you --

Me: [cheerfully] Good! :) [hangs up]

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I called her back, of course, because I felt a little guilty and knew that this wasn't going away.

Me: Erica?

Erica: Yeah, hi Sarah. I can't have you stinking up my apartment with your perfume, I told you this at the interview.

Me: Erica, I never used --

Erica: Just be out by the end of the month.
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Ok.

So, with about two weeks left in this semester, I'm looking for a place to stick myself and my stuff. I wish it was warmer outside!

Black Book Party Weirdness

"If New Jersey didn't suck, New York would slip into the ocean." -Steve Lewis, designer of the new Aspen Social Club in Times Square.















"You met a stripper at Quizbowl? That's a glitch in the Matrix!" -Nick Rizzo's friend commenting on a girl he met.

Excuse Me, Do You Have a Pencil?

Here's me in a crossword dress and Nick Rizzo in cool glasses at the Black Book party at the Aspen Social Club on Monday.

What's the Problem?

Jennifer Hudson's mom and brother were killed at her mother's Chicago home this weekend, and her 9-year-old nephew may have been killed as well. Even the rich and famous aren't immune to the maniacal actions of violent half-breeds and psychos.

In the spot usually occupied by a homeless person at the 25th Street entrance for the uptown E train, I saw something that made me scared: His possessions were still in that spot, but spreading around them on the dirty asphalt, and being partially absorbed by a bed sheet, was a large pool of blood. I mean, I'm a menstruating female; I know what blood looks like on a bed sheet, so trust me on this.

What is the world coming to?

In other news, John McCain's brother Joe called 911 to complain about the traffic. Twice.
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Don't forget to vote!!!

Weekend Weirdness

"You can party like a rockstar, but when you're a rockstar, you have the clap."
-Liz McNamara at Sala Friday night

"You can't booty dance to Jason Mraz."
-Resalin Rago (musicllaneous.blogspot.com) at her house at about 3 a.m. Friday nightjavascript:void(0)

Michael Bloomberg is the new Fidel ...

... he'll be the ruler that wont' leave. He's trying to overturn the two-term maximum set by the state. Apparently, he thinks no one else can do the job.

File this Under "Mind Your Own Damn Business"

A PR chick tattled on me to my ultra-cool* boss at Us Weekly this weekend.
















Apparently, she thought I was "really rude and unprofessional" at an art event in a warehouse space that featured portraits George Bush and Paris Hilton composed entirely of vaginas and and -- *ahem* --- "rear exits" clipped from porn magazines.

Not that I have a problem with the art. But I'm fairly certain that the girl who tattled on me (and was kind enough to "sign" her name to me with hand signals) wasn't even working on that event. She was just there, smoking cigs and concentrating on not eating ever, and smiling an over-enthusiastic skeleton smile at a frat boy in a bouffant who probably just got back from a lacrosse match in the Hamptons.

Also, for the record, I don't recall being either "rude" or "unprofessional."

Note to self: post-sorority PR girls are the Devil.

I love NY.


*She actually thinks her interns are mindless droids.

Golly, That Was Fun / Happy Birthday Tobe!

I'm a little deaf, so I must have had fun --

Tonight I got to see some of my Houston buddies -- even though they rep Boston -- The Street Dogs, who include my former Starbucks bossman, Tobe Bean. Here he is, doing his thing: Tonight it's his birthday, but he's sick. Feel better, Tobe B.

She Can't Breathe

The woman I live with (who apparently has a hyper-sensitive sense of smell) has hereby banned from my room any flowers that have a scent. I guess I'm restricted to daisies and irises, which isn't so bad. But I love lillies..... *sigh.

I'm a Cave Girl

Do you think the stars of the Geico commercials wanna hang out?



















My new apartment in Chelsea, where I live with a woman who doesn't seem to like me very much, doesn't have an internet connection or a TV, so I am woefully out of the loop.
Do they make libraries where you can check out TVs to watch The Hills?

Advice, please.

Unglue Your Faces.

Things I can't stand right now: Couples making out on crowded subway cars. Ew.

It's generally gross on the train. Case in point: John Wilwol said he saw a Number Two on the number 6, if you know what I mean. And that was in the middle of the day -- like someone just hung their bare ass over the side of a seat and dropped the Cosbys off at the 6 train.

Besides that, it's gross to have to be standing next to two pseudo hippies sucking face on a crowded train.

There are so many other places in New York City to smush your faces together if you can't stand breathing your own air. Why wouldn't you give it a rest on the subway, where there's always a mystery liquid spilled all over the ground, and it stinks, and people are coughing on each other, and the homeless man propped up in the corner is leaving a suspicous-looking stain on the chair ... and did I mention that it stinks?

I Could Have Saved a Girl, but I'm a Bum

I was walking to the grocery store this evening when I saw something perplexing: a pretty, well-dressed lady chatting happily with a guy as they strode across 69th Street down Broadway -- but she wasn't wearing any shoes. No socks -- nothing. Bare feet. On Broadway.

I resisted the urge to shake her maniacally by the shoulders, shouting "HEPATITIS, HEPATITIS!!!! HERE'RE SOME FLIP FLOPS -- SAVE YOURSELF!"

Today my boss called me a lazy bum, which may be true. It is in the morning. If anyone wants to take my place, let me know.

Are You All Really That Nice?

Almost everyone who has voted in the poll says that when they're approached by a complete stranger (who is also a yahoo, remember) they would let them yammer on until they get the hint that you're not interested.

Come on folks! Get with it!

I'd like to commend the person who pretends like s/he doesn't understand English. If nothing else, it makes for a great story later. Especially if you look that yahoo straight in the eye and say, with no accent whatsoever, "I don't speak English." Try it!

I have to admit that I posted that poll after being accosted by a maniacal pick-up artist at the Met. I was trying to recover from seeing one of Gustave Courbet's more shocking paintings (which you can see Here; I won't post the pic itself) when this guy practically knocked me down and demanded me to go to his studio apartment in the Bronx.

Actually he was a soft-spoken Japanese guy shorter than I am, but it was too much to take.

I chose the turn and run while he's not looking approach.

It was actually warm in New York City today, thank God. More please.

The "What's that Smell?" Look

The weather sucks so bad in NYC right now. Snow/sleet/flooding. The kind of stuff that makes everyone on the street look like they just smelled a fart.

Please make it Spring Break soon!

Coffee Shop Hotties

NOTE: This is a New York-centric post; if you don't live here, you probably won't get it, but I'll try. Also, I know this pic is grainy; I had to take it covertly, which made it hard. But you can still see what I'm talking about.

Coffee Shop, the diner/bar in Union Square, has all these 6-foot-tall waifs running around in like, designer non-clothes. It's very confusing. I mean, it's a diner. Don't they want people to eat? Girls like this make me want to starve myself. And yes, she was the hostess. And no, this isn't unusual for the girls who work there.

Stand Clear!!!

This video makes me want to go out a buy a helmet.

Just Give Me the Effing Spaghetti

The cafe at the end of my block is tasty (in fact that's the name -- Tasty Cafe), so I like to go there to pick up dinner when I'm coming off the subway at night.

But there's this dude that works there.

He keeps asking me questions in a voice so low that the conversation goes something like this:

Him: "rrwwwrow rv ntion?"
Me: "What?"
Him: "Wher burfv nzin?"
Me: "What?"
Him: "Where did you go for vacation?"
Me: "California."
Him: "drou oull ieye re?"
Me: "What?"

Look, I just want some damn spaghetti. Can you leave the interview for your next crappy job? Jeez.

Slogging Towards Tissues/A Bedroom Dilemma

I managed to trek out to the Food Emporium for groceries today. Getting stuff like that done in this city is harder than you think (if you live in Houston).

I'm attempting to re-organize my bedroom space so that I don't feel like I'm being smothered when I walk in. Try waking up to that kind of feeling ... and you people wonder why I can't get outta bed!