Wednesday, May 31, 2006

The 2004 ACC Champions Mug Debuts at The Office

Not only do I have a job, but I display a coffee mug from my alma mater on my desk.

She Almost Knows Somebody Famous

I don't remember what year it was when my parents decided that they would buy a second TV for our kitchen, but it was the year that my mornings began beginning with über-pepster Katie Couric. Because if there is one thing my mother loves more than the Today Show, it's Kaite Couric.

You know how as you get older, mothers call up their children to discuss the town gossip? Many of our conversations have included the phrase, "On the Today Show..."

In high school, mornings included:
a) getting out of bed 15 minutes before I needed to be in a car
b) putting on a uniform
c) Katie Couric's circa-7 am giggle.

The summer before my sophomore year of highschool my family spent an early morning "on the plaza" of Studio 1A. My father pre-set the VCR to record the Eldridge Family's debut on early morning television, which included my mother absent-mindedly staring into space at the temporary-people-fence for a good five seconds.

I remember Chris Rock was on the show that morning—possibly making fun of our then-president and who knows, maybe our future president or maybe not?Annie Curry signed my summer reading copy of Cry, the Beloved Country (I only know the title because I imbd-ed ((I verb-ed tehe.)) James Earl Jones. He was in the movie, which I never saw. But I remember that he was in the movie of a book I was suppose to read in high school, which I may or may not have read. Stellar Catholic education!).

My mother may not have been the best on air personality, but she was a darn good television fan. When Katie walked past, my mother called out to her, "I feel like I know you!" And the ever-gracious Katie responded, "You kind of do."

In one of the MANY Katie segments this morning—the hair through the years, the fashion through the years, the goodbyes, the goodlucks and the we'll miss you's—Katie talked about how people kind of do know her. And that made me wonder: What if she kind of remembers that one moment, the moment I remember my mother—starstruck.

Monday, May 29, 2006

Crappy (Literally) Things That Happened

A couple of weeks ago I decided I was psychic. I was sitting in McCarren Park in Brooklyn on a lovely Friday evening at the beginning of May. It was warm, not humid. People were playing softball and I was sitting at the edge of the park beyond Left Field. A gravel path separated the outfield and my patch of grass, but an inkling told me that a ball would coming flying my way and smack me in the head. Five minutes later this big dude is running towards me. "Heads Up!" I curled over covering my head in my hands, exposing my underwear to everyone sitting behind me. The dude rounded me like a slalom, trying to make the catch. "THUD!" I didn't get hit, but I was so close I could feel the dust.

Earlier in the week I had locked myself out of my apartment when my roommate wasn't in town. (Which really sucks at 11:30 pm on a Sunday night.) As I stepped through the door, unlocking it so I could get back in, I just knew I was going to lock myself out.

For about a week, I was pretty sure I was going to be hit by a cab, because I've imagined it thousands of times. It still might happen...

Anyways, Saturday afternoon I took Melina on a little tour of Central Park when something hit me on the shoulder. I turned right. I turned left. I did a little circle dance. And Oh My God! A bird DEFECATED on my shoulder! I must be psychic because my roommate and I had been discussing getting pooped on earlier in the week and coincidences just don't happen this regularly. Funny thing is that I was poo-ed on the moment I stepped out of the Central Park, which I believe if I conducted a study entitled, "Getting Pooped On in New York City," there would be a higher percentage of victims in Central Park than in anywhere else in Manhattan.

In closing I have to mention that my friend Annie was SMACKED IN THE FACE BY A SPARROW when she was walking on the street (in New York) the other day. This would only happen to Annie. SMACKED. In the FACE. By a SPARROW. A SPARROW!!!!

Friday, May 26, 2006

Everybody Stalks Chris

I saw Chris Rock the other day.

He was sitting on a stoop. Chilling. And I didn't even recognize him. And then he manufactured a big toothy grin. (See: Johnathan Safran Foer's Everything is Illuminated) Which made me notice the trailer trucks and I turned to my co-worker, "Was that Chris Rock?" "No way. What are you talking about?" "I bet your five bucks that if you back there, it will be Chris Rock." He didn't. But I swallowed my pride and asked the restaurant hostess Chris Rock's movie was filming in the area.

Last week his movie trailers (I've never seen so many) were all over my neighborhood. There were cables. Clothes. Random scruffy-looking dudes. And they were filming in the French restaurant my parents almost ate at the week earlier.

So yeah. I'm stalking Chris Rock.

And the list grows.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Dear Juan,

There is a Juan in my office that does "The Juan Giggle," but not "The Annoyingly Uproarious Juan Laugh"—thank god.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Tenthennial Extravaganza! In 24 Great Smelling Colors!

In celebration of the 10th episode, Teen Girl Squad is alive (as in video graphics) and in COLOR!! Written, produced, and now colored by Strong Bad from worldwide (on college campuses) fame, the newest episode features cameo appearance from some of your old favorites including Tompkins and "them olda boys."

In this episode, the Ugly One is throwing a "b'grl prty!" for her birthday, Cheerleader wears a "Sell Fish" dress, So-and-so reveals that she and the elusive Brett Bretterson have called it quits, and What's her Face spins around in circles the whole damn time.

Flynn Fact: It is...SOOO GOOD!

Fabulousness News

The bootycall will be only TWO BLOCKS away this summer. Two blocks! So close that I won’t have to leave a toothbrush in her bathroom! I will be able to walk home to brush my teeth in my own bathroom!

Sophomore year of college I slept in Lizzie’s bed regularly because I lived in the dorms and taking the drunk bus back to campus with all the freshman was a bitch. So, I kept a toothbrush over there and called her my bootycall because she was always trying to put her arm around me in the middle of the night. HeHe.

So the bootycall is going to be living with Frenchmen. Like three or four of them with one bathroom. She said another apartment with one bathroom and five people told her it wasn’t a problem for them. I say the French are notorious for stinkyness, so she should be able to get in the bathroom whenever she feels like it.

Crappity Crap Crap Crap

Was my catch phrase last week when everything was going wrong. I think I'll be using it for years to come. If you want to be cool like me, you can use it too. I don't mind.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

So You Think New You City is Glamourous?

Do ya? Do ya? Do ya?

I did. Most of the time I try not to. But with so much glamour all around me all the time...


Before I go on, I think I should mention that I saw a dead mouse on the street when I was walking to the subway yesterday. I live in a fairly clean party of town, i.e. there is not a lot of trash on the sidewalks, but dog/human pee and poo smears are standard. This was the first rodent I saw outside of the subway (thank god my apartment is vermin-free) and the mouse was gutted. I could see it's muscles and it looked like chicken. I hope the dog enjoyed it.

...sometimes it is hard to forget that it is all a big fat lie. Like the multimillion dollar condominium I temped at on Wall St. The reception area was huge, beautiful and nicely decorated in the let's get a Mac because it's prettier, but let's put Windows on it kind of way. I watched La Dolce Vita on the plasma all day. Waiters brought me fresh OJ and coffee. But when I went in the back to return the glasses I found one small office for four people—cramped quarters to say the least.

That day one of the skinny beautiful women commented that most of the people that walked in didn't look like they had any money. She was right, they weren't carrying $1000 designer handbags, they were wearing tennis shoes, they had frizzy hair. It seems that in New York, those with money keep it in their bank account. Those with a little money flaunt it like Paris Hilton. And the rest of us try to maket ourselves happy by purchasing coffee daily, because hey we can afford THAT!


I added it up. $1.25, five days a week, 49 weeks a year (not including vacation and holidays) totals $303.75!

A boss once told me that she never buys coffee because she would rather buy jewelry. I could buy a Diane Von Furstenburg wrap dress if I give up coffee. The $1.25 street vendor coffee...I'm so glad I've kicked my Starbucks habit...$1215!

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

A New American Product: By Golly, It's Cola Flavored!

Check out this new cola flavored liqueur. Yesterday, I got a bottle of the stuff. For free. Some say I have the best job ever.

I really love PR people. They are always excited. Peppy. Upbeat. They print their press releases onto sparklely gold paper. (The stuff I write comes out on plain white paper from the printer of death.) They also have the power to spread free random logoed stuff to the world like tank tops, bandanas, chapsticks, temporary tatoos. Do they think I'm a 14 year-old girl? eriously, change the logo and leave out the liquor out of the package and it could have been from Bonnie Bell.

But it is liquor. And the bottle will sit on my desk as decoration. Aging. Refining. Until I pack more than 10 people into my apartment (because that would be a challenge) for a cola liqueur tasting. Just like this guy.

I must say that I really enjoy the marketing strategy: "America's Liqueur." Imagine Rod Roddy from the The Price is Right saying the following:

Germany has Jägermeister. France has Grand Marnier. And the USA has Redcliff, the COLA FLAVORED LIQUEUR! For a really sick drink mix it with Red Bull!

America, we should really stick to sports. Or fast food.

I Won't be Homeless!

Or living with this guy. I get to stay in my apartment. Phew.

I don't have to live with the cracked out dude in the East Village. I don't have to move my stuff across the East River.

Life if good. So good that I decided to offer a parking attendant at the parking garage next to my building a Twizzler. And the next time I walked by he handed me a flower and wrote his number on it. Actually, come to think of it...I always smile at those guys when I walk by.

I'm so naive.

Friday, May 12, 2006

The List

1. Detective Stabler (Why would I use his real name? It is so much cooler to say Detective Elliot Stabler. If I were him, that'’s how I'’d introduce myself.) at the Westin Hotel in Time Square.
It was my third or fourth day in New York and I went by to pick up a copy of Where Magazine. And they were obviously filming. I stuck around to watch, but didn'’t think anything of it. This cute old lady came up to me to ask if I knew what was going on and I said I didn'’t. She suggested that it was a commercial. Ten minutes later Detective Stabler walks by and I think how do I know him? And then I pull a total giddy sorority girl on the old lady and she totally does the same and we squeal.

2. Ice-T was also at the filming. He looks like such a bad ass even from far away.

3. Jerry O'Connell was on the May 2006 issue of Men's Fitness and a friend of a friend was doing an internship with the company that put on the party at Nikki Beach.
Favorite quote of the evening: I have to reside in L.A. because of my job.

4. Blythe Danner may or may not have been reading the newspaper in Bryant Park. I did the whole, "How do I know her thing?"” again.

5. Elisa Donovan was at a showing of Kiss Me Again in the Tribeca Film Festival that I attended.
In my personal opinion, this 15-minutes of Clueless-fame star should have stuck to mean girl persona as opposed to the pyscho lesbian lover she played in this movie.

6. Surprisingly in the same night, David Blaine was in a fish bowl in Lincoln Center.

7. Alan Cumming decided to go to Irving 71 on Thursday when I decided to get a medium Chai at Irving 71.

And then I found $20, and who knows, maybe Alan Cumming dropped it.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Snap. Crackle. And Splash.

Here’s a handy fact for all you bar-hopping ladies: there are some real assholes out there.


OK, now here’s a little Flynn Fact: Throwing a drink in a man's face is best reserved for a deserving ex-boyfriend.

I know, I know. You’ve always wanted to do it. So did I. And then I did. And then the jerk threw his drink in my face. What the?

Clearly, he deserved it.

It was the day I completed my internship. I had NO idea what was next. I had been living in scared in New York for two and half months and now, I had nothing—no internship, no plan, no money, no job prospects. On the plus side: I had Clips! REAL WORLD EXPERIENCE! But still.

I’m sure I busted out with it because I don’t consider it to be a bullshit question. What you do is part of who you are. And asking questions is part of what I do. So I do it. Especially in my personal life. Asking questions keeps me from having to answer questions.

And with this guy I should have told him my name was Dakota and I was visiting from Walla Walla, Washington. Because we started arguing about something… Who knows, politics? Perhaps I was defending my popped-collar dissertation. I don’t know. But he went for the low blow. A blow so low, I don’t think I had witnessed it since third grade when my former best friend yelled, “You don’t know my mother’s maiden name!” I stopped being her friend after that because I had obviously overlooked the fact that she was an idiot.

So this guy…who was from like New Jersey…goes for that third grade “get em where their weak” tactic, with some mockery like, “Aw I dunno what I’m doing with my life. I did a little internship. ”


Splash! Again!

Sable, my awesomely cool bad-guy-chasing friend: Come on, Bri. Let’s go.

Me: NO! He will go!

And he did. Ha!

The whole rooftop was starting. I had caused a scene. Awesome. Still. I won.

I think.

Flynn Fact #2: When you do something like the above, don’t tell your mother. She wasn’t happy.

Mom: You’re lucky that’s all that happened to you! You’re lucky he didn’t hit you!

Me: I think he would have been arrested if he hit me.

Mom: I read about this kind of stuff in the news.

Imette St. Guillen had been in the news.

Me: About girls getting beat up in bars?

Mom: YES! Well, I hope he didn’t have much of his drink left. I wouldn’t want it to get all over you.

Me: I do! I hope it was full! I hope he wasted his money!

Flynn Fact #3: But DO tell your father.

Later that night…

Dad: Say, have you been to any bars in New York?

Me: Don’t worry Dad! From now on I’ve reserved drink-throwing for ex-boyfriends.

Laughter? It seemed my father found this to be humorous.

Me: Wait, this is funny to you?

Dad: Yeah. I thought girls were going to do that to me a number of times. Next time, just don’t tell your mother.

Me: Point taken. Next time,’ll be the first to know.

Yes I Did, But No I Did NOT Wait in Line to Touch the Fish Bowl

I saw David Blaine in Lincoln Center. I did. But only because I was going to be walking by Lincoln Center anyway. And NO I did wait in line to touch the fish bowl.

Coach Patrick: That's what they want you to do. You stuck it to them!

Heck yeah. I'm bad ass. The badest bad ass that made the trip to see David Blaine. I even considered throwing something inside the fish bowl. But there were cops. And I have bad aim.

But I can tell you the meaning of life, I mean, I can tell you why David Blaine was in the fish bowl for seven days...a two-hour television special simply cannot be made out of nine minutes of breath-holding. Even David Blaine's death-defying card tricks will not keep a 5 year-old watching for two hours. But if you build a water bubble, put David Blaine in it for seven days, they will come.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Dear New York:

Why are you hammering at 11:32 pm on a Sunday night? I know you never sleep, but please refrain from hammering between the hours of 9 pm and 6 am.


Don't Bother Me...I'm Journaling

Wow, I crack myself up.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Of Course I Can Tell You Where a Good Bar Is. Walk that Way and You'll be in the East Village. Which One Should You Go to? I have NO Idea!

Last night Annie and I were walking around trying to decide what to do. (Like always, because we are bad decision makers.) And this couple stopped us and asked us what direction they should go in to find a bar.

How the heck did they think we live here? Because honestly, I'm just a tourist that happens to pay rent in New York.

We decided it was one of two things...

1. We crossed the street when the light was red. (Tourists do NOT cross when the Red Hand says it's not safe. It could be 3 am without a car in sight and visiting friends tell me that I'm not allowed cross the street.)

2. We were carrying big handbags. (When you live in New York you never know how long you'll be gone so you might as well have everything you might need with you. It was 10 pm and I hadn't been home since 8:30am.)

Maybe I'm a pseudo-tourist. I walk fast down 5th Avenue, but I always stop at Rockerfeller Center. I go to Lincoln Center to see David Blaine in the fish bowl, but only because I'm already in the area and do NOT wait in line to wave at him. I buy the big soft pretzels from vendors, but only because I don't have time to make myself dinner. Jerry O'Connell arrives at the Men's Fitness party and I follow my friends to get a look at him, but I vocalize that I'm not impressed.

It's a good thing my digital camera is broken and in D.C. or else I would have taken pictures of all of the above.
Cliche for Thought: The best and worst thing about being an adult is making decisions.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Rules of the Beverage Business

Back in the day I was a member of The Private Bush Club (TPBC), which I should probably not be divulging on the internet because it was private (obvi) and exclusive (there were four of us and we weren’t letting anyone else in damnit…not that anyone else ever asked…but not like anyone could because we didn’t tell anyone, duh). I may have been the Vice President because I was the second oldest. But we erased our memories as to never reveal the interworkings of the TPBC. But I do remember that we sold lip-smackingly good cookies. And lemonade. And CRAFTS!

Boy, did those crafts bring in the big bucks. I think we each went home with $12 that Saturday. For only 3 hours of work. That’s like $4 an hour and it was sweet. And I stuffed my face with Mrs. Denk’s chocolate chip cookies when I was alone at the table and everyone else was off taking a bathroom break or making more lemonade. Bonus!

But those were the days when I was making the big bucks. My first lemonade stand was not as profitable. A kindergarten friend and I set up a stand after school one day in the middle of winter—the only person that came was my mom. And she was pretending to be a customer. She didn’t drive up. She didn’t even bring out her purse. Just her wallet. Man, was I crushed.

That day I learned a very important lesson about selling beverages, you have to know your market— and McLeaners just aren’t going to buy lemonade at dusk in the middle of winter. Then, you have to come up with a rocking advertising campaign, as in fliers and signs that look damn good with bubble lettering.

I mean I practiced bubble lettering like it was my job—in my room after school, during school, but never during recess (Hey, we all need a break now and then!). Because presentation is EVERYTHING.

And that’s a principle I carry to this day. I will never allow an blurry image with a glamour shots back drop EVER be printed in a magazine. Sorry lady. I don’t care if you get your clients to send me a smaller image. I don’t care if you drop off a 5x7 you printed off your computer. When I say 300 dpi, I mean 300 dpi, even if you have to look it up in “Computers for Dummies.” Don’t assume that an actual photograph will cure the image’s blurriness. It will not. But hey, thanks anyway—I now have a little shrine to your product in my cube, a little decoration with a little cork off the top.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Hail to the Boot

This time last year I was donning "The Boot," which was a real pain-in-the-ass. My favorite professor called me "Hop-Along." I was even more late to class because I was limping. And I had to drive everywhere. But I did get a Faculty/Staff parking sticker, which was amazing for dining hall dinner-rush purposes.

When I first moved to New York and I realized the insane amount of walking involved, I couldn't help praying to God that I will never again drink two Yuenglings at once, jump into a pool in a formal dress, trip and fall down concrete steps, which would clearly end with my stepping other people's toes in the subway with a big, fat BOOT for broken feet.

And when I see someone who has been cursed with the BOOT, I want to reach out, touch the person on the shoulder and say, "I know how it feels, man. But it sucks way more for you than it did for me. SUCKA!"

Oh I am so going to be hit by a bus.

Or a taxi.

Or a biker, as in bicycler, which for the first time today, I almost was.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Two Years Ago This was Cool

This photo was taken en route to Italy--during my surprise visit to New York City, which involved hysteric crying, blisters from dragging around a suitcase I can fit in, and a $250 hotel room on 42nd St.

I found a magazine with a map of the city to serve as my guide for the day in the hotel room with the Tempurpedic Mattress (which I have to have one day). Score. Free map. I didn't read the magazine. A year and a half later I was working for the D.C. version. Four months post-firing I realized they were one in the same.

When you flashback through life, if your lucky (and you keep old maps), you discover the previews of your future. Which is oxymoronic, but I feel like I just made an important life discovery. Bada-Bing!

Two years ago I took that photo because thought the sign was really cool. Even though I have lived in New York only three and a half months most days that I don't even notice that my subway stop sign is a beautiful mosaic.

Well, shoot, the whole point of posting that picture was to make fun of my tourist-self for taking an ugly picture of something insignificant and silly, but I guess it turns out that those signs aren't insignificant if someone thinks they are pretty enough to photograph. (Such a work of art that snap shot is. Speaks to you, no?) Heck, balancing the subway's rodent problem with mosaic signs was genius.

How Do I Get a Photo on Here?

Roses in an outdoor market in Ljubljana, Slovenia (according to the dictionary of bridget "loo-BEE-an-na").