Tag Archives: living in new york is neat

If You Don’t Have Anything Nice to Say, Post Some Pictures

Filed under just pictures, living in new york is neat
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I don’t feel like myself this week. My laptop completely crapped out on me yesterday–I think because I had added my 50th saved tab to the completely brilliant Firefox add-on TooManyTabs–and even though all of my stuff is on an external drive that I could so easily hook up to another laptop, it just feels all wrong.

So instead of a real post, some pictures:


genius ministorage ad on the subway that appeals to the fears of Ohio girls


Really? “Home of the Famous Hot Water”?

(I’m pretty sure the building next to it says “Temperature Control Valve”, and it’s not like that’s much better, but I like to think it’s just a place that really values its ability to heat water.)


scary/pretty sights under the FDR on the East River

My Superfantastic Weekend and What I Ate

Filed under all of my friends are prettier than i am, it's fun to be fat, living in new york is neat, restaurant ramblings
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I had such a great weekend that I’m actually going to talk about what I did rather than write some abstract post about “American Idol” or whathaveyou. Ready for this?

On Friday night, I picked Kamran up from work, and we rode the subway to Astoria, which is a neighborhood in Queens that’s getting to be known as the new Williamsburg (my previous neighborhood in Brooklyn), because it’s cheap enough that artsy, non-trust-funded types can actually afford to live there and eat from the plethora of Greek restaurants. It’s still not quite as settled as Williamsburg was, though, because there was a point where the streetlights just sort of stopped existing, and we found ourselves thinking, “Why did we agree to come to this god-forsaken borough?!”

But then we remembered we were about to eat CHICKEN, stuffed with CHEDDAR, wrapped in BACON, covered in MOLE, topped with melted MONTERREY JACK, and smothered in crumbled FETA at Fatty’s Cafe. Obviously worth it.


Lorraine seductively models the Contraband Chicken,
as if it’s not seductive enough on its own.


There were much better photos of Ash, Mike, and Lorraine,
but the look on Ash’s face here is SO GREAT.


Please tell me why Kamran posed normally in this photo with Jeff
but threw a gang sign in the photo he took with me.


On Saturday night, Kamran and I went to dinner at the famed Serendipity 3 with my longtime blogfriend Kim of Good Hair, Kim Luck. We’ve seriously been reading each other’s LiveJournals and then blog for years now but failed to meet when we both lived here, realized we probably made a mistake once she moved away for a while, and decided not to butcher it this time when she moved back recently.


The lovely and talented Kim shows off her young chicken sandwich and the hair
she had dyed especially for me, or so I tell myself.


Kamran sips espresso instead of helping me eat our giant Can’t Say No Sundae,
which included peanut butter pie, vanilla ice cream, bananas, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream.

After Kim and I had been talking about “Gossip Girl” stars and handbags for 15 minutes, Kamran leaned over and whispered that Sarah Michelle Gellar was at the table next to ours with her family, which prompted us to try naming more than three things she’s been in. I failed ridiculously and didn’t slyly take a picture of Kim with Buffy in the background, but rest assured that she’ll be ceremoniously added to my list of famous people I’ve seen in NYC.

Even though Kim was in a dress and heels, we coerced her to ride the tram to Roosevelt Island with us, which is basically a 3-minute ride in the air to the tiny island next to Manhattan. We used those 3 minutes wisely, though, by loudly talking about how people from Roosevelt Island are pathetic if they think they’re part of Manhattan.


On Sunday morning, Kamran and I were treated to brunch at La Silhouette, which I think is just trying to get the word out that yes, they serve brunch, and yes, it is awesome. As if my cheesy, crusty, piled-high-with-ham croque madam wasn’t enough,

they also served us the entirety of the dessert menu. (And we secretly kind of liked their sundae better than Serendipity’s!) The full review will follow on donuts4dinner.com, obviously.

Super fun times!

So Lonely Even My Hair is Depressed

Filed under creepy boyfriend obsession, living in new york is neat, narcissism
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Kamran flew to California Friday morning to visit a client in Palo Alto but made a stop in Orange County first to celebrate the Persian New Year with his family, which now includes a baby nephew named . . . Cameron! My roommate wasn’t feeling well that night, so I went to Kamran’s apartment to take care of the 20 hours of “Criminal Minds” saved on his DVR but got out of the bus at 34th Street to enjoy a few minutes of walking through the almost-spring weather. I didn’t know anything about the whole moon-being-closer-to-the-Earth-than-it-has-been-in-18-years thing, but I did notice it looked particularly lovely over Long Island City across the river in Queens:

Big Moon

Along with the “Criminal Minds”, I watched the Alli-goes-to-stay-with-Johnny-at-college-but-they-don’t-make-out-WTF episode of “Degrassi” while recording the first two Harry Potter movies so I could later fast-forward through the FIFTEEN MINUTES OF COMMERCIALS the channel plays for every five minutes of movie and see how the films compare with the books now that I’ve succumbed and read the first two. (I guess I like all the detail in the books, but reading them is a lot more fun when I already know how everything looks in the movies. Maybe I’m unimaginative.)

On Saturday afternoon, I ordered the same kebab plate that Kamran and I get every Thursday night to enjoy while watching the previous night’s “Top Chef” episode. I’ve grown so accustomed to watching food-related shows while I eat with him that watching non-food-TV felt funny. It could’ve had something to do with the fact that it was a serial killer drama involving cannibalism, but still, it makes me wonder if I’d spend the rest of my life eating dinner to Tom Colicchio or Ina Garten even if Kamran wasn’t around.

My roommate, Jack, was planning to be home that evening, so I took a shower around 1 and then sat around for the next three hours checking obsessively for Kamran’s IMs, tweeting about hearing the ice cream truck for the first time in more than four years outside Kamran’s apartment, hating Dobby the House Elf so much, and finding out that left alone with the Ritter Sport Alpine Milk chocolate bar, I didn’t want to eat the whole thing in two bites as I had originally planned. At 5, I finally got bored enough that I decided to go for a long walk around the neighborhood and saw so many French bulldogs at the Beekman Place dog park and so many goddamned happy couples rubbing their coupledom in my face. A man with an impressive old-timey mustache made eyes at me, and I decided to reward myself with a black and white cookie, but it turns out I just don’t enjoy getting fat as much by myself and went home empty-handed.

I stopped by the convenience store in Kamran’s building on my way back up to the apartment for some soda and a Fage yogurt to replace the one I’d found all dried up without its lid on in the back of the fridge, and the man behind the counter said, “Where’s your guy? You look lonely.

GRR! So even though I’d secretly been planning to stay at Kamran’s alone all night again, I decided to go to my own apartment and be entertained by Jack and his new Xbox Kinect. We ate bahn mi and bubble tea from Hanco’s, and I watched him play Halo for a couple of hours before taking the controls myself and learning that video games aren’t for girls.

The next day, I woke up late to meet my friend Ash for Macaron Day NYC 2011. My hair usually needs about 3 hours to air day, so I decided to save time and blowdry it for approximately the third time in my life and the first time in at least five years. I knew it had the chance to turn out looking like this, but I was willing to put up with that if it meant not going out with wet hair. So I took my shower, put on the big fluffy robe my grandmother got me for Christmas, watched an episode of “Southland”, made some oatmeal, and came back to the bathroom to check my hair’s progress. When I ran a comb through it, it was perfectly straight and lovely.

So I turned on the hairdryer, flipped my head upside-down, and came up looking like this:

Big Moon

So apparently you’re not supposed to blowdry upside-down when you don’t want a small afro?

When I met up with Ash, she said, “What happened to you?!” Luckily, the macarons were good, and Kamran’s coming back tonight.

The Unseen Sights of Secretive Beekman Place

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Now that the weather is getting nicer, Kamran and I have been actually getting up before noon on Sundays and taking walks around his neighborhood. You can kind of get the gist of any given neighborhood by walking a few streets, and at this point, we’ve been walking those streets for the five years Kamran’s lived in Midtown East, so we kind of thought we’d seen it all.

But walking down 1st Avenue, we decided to try out 52nd Street on a whim and found ourselves in a microcosm entirely different from the one Kamran lives in, with a tiny unnamed café, a gated garden area surrounded by balconied buildings, and a culdesac overlooking the East River. Doormen peered at us from under their caps and men out walking their oversized and undersized dogs turned around to watch us pass, as if they all knew we didn’t belong there.

We could see a little bridge leading down to a riverfront park one block down, so we headed back over to 1st Avenue and down to 51st Street, which deadended into a decaying stone staircase that led to this bridge:

And when we looked over the sides of the bridge, we saw this glorious dog park–Peter Detmold Park, it’s called–so huge it still looked empty even while teeming with puppies:

The last few feet of the bridge are covered by a metal fence as it crosses over FDR Drive, which is kind of exhilarating to stand over:

At the end of the bridge, you take a left and walk down another staircase, which leads you to a tiny strip of park sitting right on the river, with sights of the 100-year-old Queensboro Bridge:

some fancy ruins on Roosevelt Island no doubt being torn down to make way for condos:

two lovebirds:

the famous Pepsi-Cola sign on the other side of the river in Queens:

and the whisper-thin United Nations headquarters down the street on 42nd:

Having read Phillip Lopate’s wonderful but sad Waterfront: A Walk Around Manhattan, I’ve come to realize how important access to the river is to the community, and for the community to have spent so much money on this one-block chunk of park, you figure someone special must be living there.

Looking behind you, you realize how special. The buildings are towering behemoths:

with bay windows on every corner and balconies that have been closed off to become another room in the apartment:

There are long stretches of beautiful outdoor patios that can only be accessed through the buildings:

And look! When you try to Google Street View it, there’s no data available! FISHY!

We walked down Beekman Place between 49th and 51st Streets, and while the blocks were eerily quiet, what was weirder were the surveillance cameras conspicuously placed outside of every building to let you know you were being watched. It’s at once the scariest and safest street in NYC, I guess.

On the way back home, we were greeted with the familiar sight of the Chrysler Building, which shines in through Kamran’s windows every night, peeking through between some buildings off in the distance:

and of course the “Good Defeats Evil” monument of St. George fighting the “dragon” of nuclear war that used to be soooooo beautiful until the UN decided to build some awful structure behind it:

And that was that. Secret neighborhood microcosm de-secretized!

“American Idol” is the Only Drama Left in My Life

Filed under a taste for tv, living in new york is neat, music is my boyfriend
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I kinda don’t have anything to say right now. Kamran’s finished with law school and the bar exam, so we’ve been doing crazy things like

1) going to the 3-Michelin-starred restaurant Kamran swore he wouldn’t take me to until I agreed to eat their signature oysters-and-caviar dish (and I did! (and liked it!!)),

2) driving to see our friend Anthony’s in Long Island with a bunch of other friends so he could make us a real home-cooked Italian meal in a house with a kitchen that’s its own separate room and not just a counter on one side of the living room, and

3) going for weekend walks in secret parts of the city and finding a 100-square-foot (i.e. normal-sized for Manhattan) wine store that happened to carry our favourite wine, the J.J. Prüm Riesling Kabinett Graacher Himmelreich 2008. We’re totally drinking with our preservative-free, microwaveable FreshDirect vegetarian meals now. One of us is drinking out of an actual wine glass that came with Kamran’s apartment (I was under the impression he had purchased wine glasses himself when I first met him and was impressed with how grown up it seemed, despite not actually liking wine), but the other glass broke at some point, so one of us is drinking out of a mug. Classy.

Anyway, life is good, and about the only thing stressing me out right now is deciding if I’m going to watch this season of “American Idol” or not. Obviously I watched all of the auditions, because that’s the only time you actually get to see people with singing talent. By the time you get around to the live show, the judges have weeded out anyone who doesn’t add Christina-Aguilera-ish runs to the end of every song.

I think the only reason I’m even remotely interested in watching this season is to see all the hacks and jerks get kicked off. A handful of the contestants are actually bad: Thia Megia, Tatynisa Wilson, Rachel Zevita, Kendra Chantelle, and Julie Zorrilla. A couple of the contestants are just unlikeable: Clint Jun Gamboa and Jordan Dorsey. There’s the one guy who’s an Adam Lambert ripoff: James Durbin. And most everyone else is just generic.

Here are the only four I care about:

American Idol Season 10

• Brett because he’s a total freak with a voice to match.

• Casey because he scats in a not-annoying way and because he’s what Kamran calls a slobthrob, which is of course a slob who also happens to be a heartthrob.

• Paul because he may legitimately be Rod Stewart.

• Scotty because his voice suits him so little it’s almost cartoonish. He could put out a country album tomorrow and have it sound better than anything out there right now.

I don’t think any of them can actually win, of course, because they’re all too good. Kamran promises me we’ll make it through the season with the help of the trusty fast-forward option on the DVR, but maybe I should make a pact with myself to stop watching once the four of them get kicked off to avoid the pain of having to watch someone like Lee DeWyze win again.