Rabulous

December 21, 2006 at 12:58 pm | Posted in friends & fam | Leave a comment

Sad news makes my heart hurt

December 20, 2006 at 11:34 pm | Posted in friends & fam | Leave a comment

They say good news travels fast. But truly, since the advent of Myspace and email, sad news travels even faster. It’s inevitable, and quite frankly, it sucks– like, sucks to the point where my heart stops in a very Pavlovian way every time my caller id reads an unexpected 757 phone number.

Jeff got an email and call from a childhood friend today. The friend wasn’t calling to ask us when we were leaving to come home to Va. Beach, but instead, the friend was calling to let us know that someone we knew and cared for had passed away. Receiving calls like that is never easy. In fact, calls like those make me question mortality and day-to-day decisions. It’s hard to grasp any loss, but when the loss is inflicted by senseless, irreverent assholes, it makes me angry. So angry my heart hurts.

We lost a friend yesterday as a result of a hit and run down at the Beach. Michael W. Taylor—Mikey–left Harpoon’s on Saturday night. He crossed Pacific and 24th, and from what I’ve read and what we were told, he stopped in the median and was then hit by a silver sportscar. The driver fled the scene. Mikey suffered massive head injuries.

We were told that he was taken off of life support yesterday afternoon. We have yet to get all the details about this accident, but it has been confirmed that Mikey Taylor’s accident was, indeed, a hit and run. As of today, they have not found any further information on the driver, other than that the car, probably a Mazda sportscar, suffered significant front end damage. This traumatic accident unexpectedly took the life of a friend, at a time often associated with happiness and celebration. And so, if anyone has any information, or by any chance, was near/at/ or knows anyone one who was at Harpoon’s or the site of the accident that night, please let me know. Or contact the authorities. Any details, information of any kind, would be a tremendous help.

_____

Michael Taylor—Mikey— was soft spoken, but friendly enough to make small conversation. Jeff and I, separately, were both friends with Mikey before we ever became a couple. Apparently, I was the only person still calling Mike, “Mikey.” Jeff and Mikey grew up in the same neighborhood. I’m assuming they rode their bikes, ate snails, and had makeshift WWF matches or whatever boys did. Me, I was fortunate to meet Mikey in summer school. I was one of those nerds that went to school in summer “to get ahead.”

Mikey, an effervescent spirit was asked to attend summer classes. He made me (and everyone) in class laugh all summer long. He echoed Jeff Spicoli, but a much cuter and smarter version. Much cuter. Since Va. Beach *really* is a small town, we all knew the same circle of friends– everyone knows someone that knows someone. It’s old friends like Mikey that make home so great.

Quite honestly, since school, Jeff and I probably only saw Mikey out at the bars. We never really hung out, but we did consider him a friend. Since it was always the same faces at many of the local bars back home, you could always count on seeing a friend wherever you went.
When we went home for Christmas last year, Jeff and I ran into Mikey at our old watering hole, not too far from our jr. high school. Mikey, having been at the bar several hours before us, shared his new found philosophies, revealing that life is too short and that he was a self-described “simple dude.” Mikey insisted that moving to Costa Rica was his ultimate plan; and that fishing and surfing made sense to him. Why not move somewhere that he loved and do the things he enjoyed for the rest of his life. Simplicity and the things he loved defined his happiness. Despite the various obstacles in his life, he figured it out– he knew what he wanted to do. It was a matter of getting there.

This chance meeting with Mikey came at a time when Jeff and I were questioning our lives—where do we want to be? What do we want to do? Is work defining who we are? We’ve yet to answer our own questions, but in those few hours with Mikey at the bar, an old friend reminded us about the simplicity of life and reverence of the ultimate goal. We really took to heart what Mikey said to us that night. Our little reunion with this old friend spoke volumes to us.
It’s people like Mikey—the people that understand the gift of life and can easily put things into perspective—reaffirms the ultimate goal in life: creating a life filled with contentment and happiness.

Stay safe this holiday season, guys. And please, if you have any information, please forward it along.

karma rocks

December 15, 2006 at 11:51 am | Posted in stuff that matters | Leave a comment

I shared this with a few friends already, but I thought I’d share it here too. ‘Tis the season, ya’ll.

A few weeks ago, while Jeff and I were walking through our neighborhood, we noticed this teenager getting on his bike. Something black fell out of his pocket. Since we were a half block away, we couldn’t really tell what it was. When we got to where he was, we noticed he dropped his phone. The kid was long gone, but we picked it up and tried to find a contact number within this Sidekick. We stood at the the corner of the block, trying to figure out what to do with the phone. A minute later, the kid rounds the corner freaking out about his phone. Jeff asked the kid if he lost something. The kid was practically in tears and said yeah and described the phone. So, we handed him his phone. He thanked us and we went on our merry way. though it was a nice phone and were amazed that this kid had a phone worth more than both of ours put together, we still felt good about our deed.

Fast forward to last week. I was half asleep throughout my entire commute. I just could not keep my eyes open. When I got out of the PATH, I went to Duane Reade to grab some cash. I stuck the $20 in my coat pocket since I knew I’d be using it in a few minutes. I walked my 4-5 block walk to the office. In the park, I think I stuck my hand in my coat pocket to make sure my $20 was still there. I must have pulled it out unknowingly and dropped it– in the middle of Madison Square Park amidst bums, rowdy teenagers and many suits commuting to work like me.

Anyway, this very nicely dressed gentleman came running up to me with my $20 in his hand. Since I had my iPod blaring and was totally oblivious to what was going on, he just handed me my money and told me I dropped it. I was completely shocked. I really couldn’t believe someone was kind enough to give me back my $20, especially when I had no idea I dropped it!

So, that’s my Karma story. What goes around always comes around!

beads, bloody marys and perspective

December 14, 2006 at 5:32 pm | Posted in beer please, random | 2 Comments

Surprisingly, I’ve been very productive at work, thus impeding on my daytime internet/blogosphere usage. I haven’t updated my different blogs in several weeks/months, and like a crackhead, I’m fiending– bad.

So, here I am. Since I last wrote, I came back from a hectic trip home to Va. A few days later, I left for the Crescent City. I’ve been anticipating this worktrip all year, mainly because I was curious to see New Orleans for myself.
I’ve read in many different places that the touristy areas, specifically, the French Quarter, weren’t as affected as the other areas that were literally decimated by flooding.
I always sit in the window seat for reasons such as this–as my plane landed, I couldn’t help but peer out my tiny circular window. The views from the plane perfectly reflected the solemn magazines spreads depicting the area’s despair.

It was hard not to notice that every single house had a trailer out front. But even more noticeable, it looked like most of these homes had barely been touched, even though the waters receded well over a year ago.

On my way to my work event, we passed the Superdome. It was the first main landmark, and physical reminder of how much this city has changed.

My work event was held at the huge convention center in New Orleans, right by the French Quarter. This is the same exact convention center that served as shelter for hundreds and thousands of Katrina victims last year. It was the same exact Convention center where different media outlets reported multiple deaths among all of the Katrina victims.

That day and a world away, the convention center housed my work event, featuring thousands of company executives marketing themselves and their multimillion dollar ideas. What was just a temporary refuge for the poorest of poor last year, was now a badly lit, poorly carpeted, overbudgeted platform for really rich companies. Commercialism is fun.
What’s really funny is when I turn heads when I walk down my little aisle to my company’s booth. Since 95% of these exectutives are old white hairs, they usually don’t know what to think of me, the ethnic girl in a suit.
Nevertheless, my work trip was extremely productive. When the sun goes down, the function gets even more productive. This is an event where many companies schmooze with the best of them. My friend and I attended a work “event” hosted by a well known company. the open bar, food and beads were a great way to network with other people in the industry.
After several beers or so, things got even more interesting out on the balcony that overlooked Bourbon Street.

If you’ve ever wondered what traveling salesmen do on their nights off, those questions would’ve been answered right there. ( vivid proof for my friends on Flickr. read: boobs) Standing on this balcony with 100 or so men old enough to be my dad, I hooted and hollered with the best of them, pointing out the “cute” girls and chucking beads at the “trampy” ones. haha. You’ve never seen the French Quarter until you go there for this work funtion.

Craziness always ensues when you get several thousand middle-aged men together in New Orleans.

Continue Reading beads, bloody marys and perspective…

Thankful

November 29, 2006 at 11:59 pm | Posted in beer please, dysfunctional bliss, random | Leave a comment

I want to preface my rants by say, I’m grateful for so much in life.

But for the first time in a long time, I can happily say, I’m very thankful to be home– in N.J.

While we had a fun-filled trip home to the Commonwealth, we were greeted by much drama, ferocity and yup, stress. I’m talking about the Nor’Easter that whipped across the mid-atlantic while we were driving, just to clarify. But yes, as I predicted, there’s never enough time to see everyone, do everything we want or stay within a reasonable budget.

However, we did see a lot of my nutty family. We cooked, we ate, we laughed, watched way too much of the Filipino Channel (my parents insist on translating every.flipping.show for Jeff) and had an awesome time. We had the chance to see almost all of my inlaws. We played an intense game of Mr. Mouth, as well as dining at one of the finest establishments that Chesapeake has to offer. And of course, we saw a ton of friends. and Joe Millionaire. Jeff drank way too much in such a short time (surprised?) and our cool nephew showed him what happens to the crazy drunken uncle. classic.

What a fun, memorable but exhausting extended holiday weekend. By the end of our trip, when I was explaining something to my lovely parents for the billionth time, Jeff said he saw another vein pop out of my neck, despite my forced cursory tone.

He’s a smart man, he knows when to run for cover.

But seriously, I’m we’re very lucky and so very thankful to be loved by so many people back home. It’s good to visit our other home, but it’s even better to come back to this home.

And here’s a pictoral synopsis of our trip back to Va.

At this point my parents had been blowing my phone up for the past 100 miles. sweet. I felt like the winds were going to swoop up our top heavy car and the waves were going to swallow us up. We probably should’ve listened to dad and avoided this 17-mile crapshoot.

VB goes higher and higher every time we come home. I believe this is the Westin that’s under construction on the Blvd. in the Town Center.

Boys will be boys. They must’ve played for days:::This was one of my most favorite and memorable thanksgivings. For the first time in 10 or so years, I was able to help mom cook in the kitchen. It’s the little things that make me so thankful.

Tanya and Mrs. McLeod
in line at toys r us at 3am on Black Friday. In NYC, they say “on line;” In va, we say IN line

this cow was giving out coupons for breakfast

yeah. we shop a lot.

Joe Millionaire and John's big mug
don’t you see the psuedo celeb all the way back there?

Bffs and just a drunk guy and Kris (in Kelly’s coat?)

yeah. BFFs 4-eva.
me, Kel, Jeff and Kris

classic.

and my fave:

favorite quotes heard during our pensive and very competitive game of Mr. Mouth.

I don’t think I laughed this hard in a LONG time.

“I got one in!” “I got another one in!” “Yeah, 3 in a row!”– Michael.
“Shut up Michael, you’re being annoying.” “I’m the Champion!!!”–Grandma
“Michael, you’re in my firing range– move!!” “Aunt Jen, you suck at this.”–uncle Jeff
“Aunt Jen, have you ever played a game like this? It doesn’t seem like it.” –Michael
“um. I’m no good at this. Unless there’s beer and ping-pong balls involved, I’m obviously useless.” –Aunt Jen

____

Ok, now that I’m home. I’m leaving on a jet plane tomorrow for Nola for work. Should be a very interesting trip. Updates later.

pandemonium and waiting for PS3

November 17, 2006 at 3:19 pm | Posted in news, On the Internets, urbania | 1 Comment

I noticed this royal blue tarp hanging over the side of the 23rd and 6th Best Buy in the city since Monday, maybe Tuesday. I knew there’s been all this buzz this week for the latest PS3 and Wii, but I never realized that these consoles would garner a line this far in advance.

It actually stormed its ass off last night. The winds were howling and the rain was pouring throughout the night. Crazy enough, many people, not only in NYC, but across our electronics-obsessed land, waited outside of electronics stores just for a chance at these gaming systems.
Some people set up shop for days with tents, sleeping bags and layers of clothes. I guess the line at my local Best Buy was kept under control on the city sidewalk with the police barricade and giant blue tarp. When did this camping on the street thing become socially and culturally acceptable that NYPD is supplying barricades. All this waiting and shelling $500 out for a “flawed” gaming system?

I’m not a gamer and don’t have much interest in it, mainly due to that detrimental phase with barefoot boyfriend from high school. (he deserves a post of his own one day.) heh. He used to bring me to the local arcade, in the mall next to our high school, where I’d foolishly peer over his shoulder for hours– as if that was an appropriate teenage date. So, no, gaming is not my gig.

I’m guess I shouldn’t judge so much, considering next Friday morning, I’ll be one of the many crazies braving the cold elements, waiting in line at 3am outside of some big box store, just for some doorbuster barbies, a myriad of needless gadgets and gifts.

Because the entrance to the PATH is across the street, I pass Best Buy every day on the way home. My friend and I noticed last night that the PS3 Line got even bigger.

My friend squawked when I told her that many of these people had been in line for multiple days for a chance at getting a PS3.

“would you do this for your child– wait in line for days? Do they work? How could they afford to do this? Who does that?”

Continue Reading pandemonium and waiting for PS3…

Going home: giant hugs, good food and a lot of stress

November 16, 2006 at 6:25 pm | Posted in bitterman, dysfunctional bliss | Leave a comment

Even though the tree outside of my building is still as green as it was in July, and even though I was too lazy to pull out my harvest-sized collection of pumpkins and other fall decor, and even though I’m sweating my ass off today in my Old Navy sweater, it’s already the third week of November– only a week away from the Thanksgiving holiday.

Our Thanksgiving trip home to Va is usually our longest and most anticipated visit of the year, but it’s certainly become the most stressful visit. This year, we’re going home for 6 fun-filled days.

When I was away at college, the anticipation of going home was always this exciting and valiant time for me. I was this unscrupulous English major, partying in DC and Baltimore and sleeping through my 8am classes. {I thought} I was big time.

Going home to the southeastern corner of suburbia and revisiting the facilitators of my teenage angst and all the sources of my youthful bliss was always a colorful time of year. I’d drive those 3-4 hours down 95 to 295 to 64, happily greeted by the Chesapeake Bay as a reminder that I was close to home.

Once I got to the other side of the peninsula, my car would instantly accelerate to speeding, but still in that ticket-safe range, all the way down 264. I’d race down the ramp, down Independence and the rest would be on autopilot through the neighborhood.

Thankfully, the neighborhood never changes.

As soon as I’d park my car in front of the house, I’d always take that last ceremonious drag on my cigarette, thinking heh– I was cool and all independent smoking in my dormroom and stuff. And then, I’d remember going home would mean that I was back to sitting on my ledge, in my pastel pink bedroom, puffing out my window as soon as everyone went to bed. Being home would bring trips to the mall with awkward sitings and the ubiquitous “so what are you doing now” conversations.

Strapped with my cheapy luggage and bags of laundry, I’d fling open the creaky door to my parents’ 1950s-styled Ranch.

I could smell it: I was home.

The essence of mom’s overzealous start on Turkey dinner, blended with grandma’s various pastries, created a flood of nostalgia every time. When I’d finally round the corner, without a word, only 5 extremely tight embraces, I’d know I was really home and remember how much I was loved.

It’s amazing- I worked so hard to escape my own angst in Va., but now, I’d do anything to go back. Truly, for me, there’s nothing like going home.

Continue Reading Going home: giant hugs, good food and a lot of stress…

water* seeks its own level

November 14, 2006 at 2:13 pm | Posted in beer please, dysfunctional bliss | 1 Comment

Even though we’ve completely overhauled our eating habits over the past few months by regularly making dinner at home (instead of calling for takeout 3x a week), Jeff and I still observe our weekly rituals.
We used to do a burger night every wednesday at our local bar, where a giant burger and a pint of beer was only $5. But, after the results from a recent physical, we chose to amend those rituals. Now, we go to Tuesday wing night.
ha. we’re pretty pathetic, I know.

Every Tuesday like clockwork, Jeff and I meet up after work as sort of a mid-week break. We catch up, complain and connect over a plate of buffalo wings and a few pitchers of beer. The deal, actually, works out for both of us: I don’t have to slave in the kitchen after a shitty commute. And he doesn’t have to manually wash the dishes after an exhaustive drive home.

Since getting married, we’ve started a few little menial rituals, but of them all, our weekly date nights at the bar are my favorite. It’s never ideal to have too many pitchers on wing night, only to suffer with a throbbing hangover on Wednesday. But for the few hours that we’re there, I love unwinding and sometimes even, beating our retired baker friend at a game of pool.

And because it’s tuesday again, I’m reminded of a silly conversation I had with my husband on our walk home from Wing Night.
We stopped in at the Bodgea to pick up an innocent six pack (I guess to solidify our weekday drunkeness.) Since we’ve only been seeing one of the two brothers who owns our local bodega, my husband was concerned of his whereabouts. Jeff likes to trashtalk sports with them whenever we stop in the store. Fueled by the pitchers of beer, Jeff’s lack of inhibition prompted him to query the cashier guy about the missing bodega brother.

Jeff slurs to the cashier, “So, ush, did Jaime buy out his brother? I haven’t seen him around.”
cashier guy, typing into his Sidekick, without looking up: “ah, no. Jose works in the morning. I guess they have a set schedule.”
Jeff: “oh, well, I thought he was gone? Oh well, I’ll catch him some other time.”

As we left, Jeff looked at me very Quixotically: “I guess Jaime didn’t buy his brother out, huh?”
I shrugged my shoulders and raised my brows in my bitchy, wifely know it all way, “Uh yeah. where have you been? Jose’s always there in the mornings. duh.”

Yelling loud enough for all of Bayonne to hear, “Well THANKS. NEXT TIME, WHY DON’T YOU JUST LET ME WALK IN THERE WITH DOO-DOO SMEARED ALL OVER MY FACE.”

Yep. My husband said doo-doo. smeared all over his face.
It’s a week later, and I’m still laughing. With every laugh over every ridiculous thing he might say or do, I’m entirely grateful for how marriage complements us.

The old adage explains it: Water seeks its own level. (*or in this case, doo-doo)

So, there you have it. Not only do we like to go out on weekdays, just so we don’t have to do dishes; but quality time with my husband often involves too much beer.

I know there’s a contingent that frowns upon married people going out and having fun often, especially the kind of fun involving neighborhood bars and happy hour. (mom comes to mind) I actually heard someone say that bars are an inappropriate form of fun for married couples, implying that it’s an immature social outlet.
Nonsense! I’m a big believer in marriage and the immersion of fun. Whether it involves scrabble, Soduku on the couch, croquet in the backyard or Wing Night at your local pub, you have to have fun!

Studies say that married people live longer and healthier.

Being married, staying married, being part of a married couple changes people’s choices.

Maybe some of our rockstar Jameson chugging nights aren’t the healthiest of choices, but really, a fun night out with friends/family goes a long way for us. Fun=healthy marriage for us.

While some of my friends are enjoying parenthood, home ownership or whatever path they’ve chosen, I’m openly chuckling over healthy conversations involving doo-doo.

Happy Tuesday!

Don’t forget to vote!

November 7, 2006 at 4:53 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

I know many of you have already braved the busted up polls, but for those of you that haven’t, please don’t forget to vote! As one of my daily emails so eloquently put it:

Today, November 7, 2006, is election day in the United States. This is the day set aside every two years when we gather to select those special individuals who will lead us for the next two, four, or six years (as the case may be). These selected persons will also be the ones we most severely criticize, generally for doing the things they were elected to do. Democracy in action!

In some cases, it’s up to us to pick the lesser of two evils. If you don’t vote, you don’t have the right to bitch

muddy day at the office

November 6, 2006 at 9:24 pm | Posted in news, nyc | 1 Comment

For someone who hits the snooze button 15 times a morning, 5am hit like a ton of bricks today. I was the overly eager one last Friday who confirmed this specific early morning work assignment. Truly, there is no glamour in waking up and leaving the house when it’s still dark out, especially when public transportation hasn’t even begun its early morning shifts yet!

As I headed east to the Hudson to catch the ferry, the sun started to peek out from behind the skyline. When I boarded the commuter ferry, from a distance, I could see the commotion of what was my latest work assignment. It’s funny, but great, how in the past week or so, I’ve seen more stories about my industry, than I’ve seen in a while.

I got off the ferry and walked a few blocks north to Pier 86. The behemoth that shadowed me, the hundreds of chipper morning news people and the parking lot surrounding us, is the focus for the day: The 27,000-ton decommissioned Naval vessel-turned Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum, was set to be towed from its berth to the Bayonne Drydock, just 5 miles down the river.