Category Archives: uncategorized

Zinio Sweepstakes and Coupon

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Have an iPad, iPhone, or Android? Want to read magazines on it?

Don’t have an iPad and wish you did? Zinio is here to help.

The world’s largest newsstand–with hundreds of thousands of the best local, national, and international e-titles–is giving away 16GB iPad Minis to three lucky winners and $5 coupons to everyone in their Give a Little, Get Alot Sweepstakes.

Yes, alot.

To enter and claim your coupon, visit http://bit.ly/givealittlegetalot and fill in the required fields (with or without logging into Facebook) for the iPad giveaway, and you’ll be taken to a new page with your coupon code. Use it to buy a digital subscription to The Atlantic, Juxtapoz, Vogue, Parenting, Newsweek, ESPN, or an array of other titles grouped helpfully by category. Buy it for yourself! Buy it for someone for Christmas!

Here’s a collection of pretty magazine covers to entice you:

Enticed yet? (Am I the only person who didn’t know Kristen was pregnant?)

Enter up to 50 times a day between now and November 30th, because an iPad Mini is more important than whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing at work.

$640 Million and Counting

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I wish I hadn’t bought a lottery ticket so I could properly mock all of these yahoos crowding my bodega with their pathetic dreams of job-quitting and Tahiti vacations and “helping people in need”.

The difference between them and me, though, is that my ticket is actually the winner.

I’m Famous and Well-Fed!

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What a wonderful place the Internet is! I started a blog on the salon.com blogging platform, Open Salon, a while back just to see what it was like. I don’t usually see much action over there, but it’s just a mirror of this blog, so I didn’t expect to. But this morning, I got four e-mails in a row saying I had comments and wondered what I had said to incite love from strangers, so I went to investigate, and it turns out my blog post from yesterday is one of their editor’s picks featured on the landing page!

How neat! Open Salon has a very robust community of active bloggers and commenters, and although I’ll admit I’m not using it to its full advantage at all, I’d definitely recommend opening an account of your own and checking out their editor’s picks each day.


Other than that, I’ve been blogging at donuts4dinner.com all week, for some reason. You probably don’t care about my new ratings system or burger review, but those of you who have heard my years of cries for dinner at the much-exalted restaurant will be pleased to note that I HAVE EATEN AT PER SE AND AM THE HAPPIEST GIRL ALIVE.

Oysters and Pearls at Per Se
tiny oysters and a big, ol’ pile of caviar

Now I can go back to eating nothing but pizza, assured that I have had all of the good food there is to be had.

The Two Worst Valentine’s Day Gifts in the World

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On Valentine’s Day evening, Kamran called me from the law school library to check in and asked, “Anything . . . happen . . . to you today?”

“Um . . . nope,” I said.

“Nothing . . . happen?”

“Nope.”

“You didn’t . . . get anything delivered to you?”

“Nope.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yep.”

So it turns out he actually attempted to send me something to make up for my having to be alone and do laundry on Valentine’s Day. Only it didn’t get to me in time. And then not for two more days.

But still, aren’t they beautiful in all of their sparseness and deadness?

No?

Well, the company rightfully gave Kamran a refund, which he’s adding to my after-bar-exam chocolate fund. And it is, after all, the thought that counts. Which is why he’s still dating me despite the “Jersey Shore” t-shirt I made him for Valentine’s Day.


Also, donuts4dinner post today for all of my commiserators in fish-hate!

Almost Getting Hit by a Car Really Shows You the Darkest Parts of Your Soul

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I walked up to the corner of 40th Street and Tunnel Exit Street (really, that’s what it’s called). The dreaded electric company had its trucks blocking 40th while the crew worked on something buried beneath the street, and a man in a blue vest and hard hat kept moving orange cones to allow cars out of the parking garage. The walk light was blinking red, so I decided to hang back, what with the confusion over the street closure and all.

The cars on Tunnel Exit Street got their green light and flew past me in the way that only cars in NYC can when getting stopped by red lights every block, and then the light changed. I stepped out onto the street, and though I saw a cab ready to turn the corner out of the corner of my eye, and even as his bumper literally touched the leg of my pants, I thought, Of course he’s going to stop.

But he didn’t, and before I knew what was happening, I was leaned over the hood of his car, both hands on it like I was going to be able to push it away from me. Without evening thinking, even before I stood back up again, I screamed, “I HAVE A FUCKING WALK SIGN!!

I never thought I’d be a person who yells at other people. Growing up in Ohio, I never raised my voice to anyone but my little sister, and she totally deserved it. I don’t think I said a single curse word until 8th grade, and even then, I just did it because some kids said I wouldn’t. I was raised to give people the benefit of the doubt, to think before I speak, and to feel guilty when I don’t.

The cab driver leaned out his window and said, “The light! The light!”, pointing to the stoplight above his head. I thought for .02 seconds that he may have had a green arrow, but then I realized that:

1) the sign wouldn’t have turned to Walk if he had a turn arrow,
2) that light isn’t ever an arrow, and
3) I AM A PEDESTRIAN AND ALWAYS HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY.

So even though this cab driver had totally been polite about yelling at me, I looked him in the eye and bellowed again,

I HAVE A FUCKING WALK SIGN!!

And then I crossed the street with my head held high as the electric company crew laughed at me and a couple of guys made fun of me in an Asian language, called Tracey to tell her how I’ve turned into an angry New Yorker, and spent the next 20 minutes hiding out in the grocery store in case he decided to pull around the block and club me with his tire iron.

Have I mentioned I hate cabs?