Blogging from the Big Apple

Some of my friends have accused me of abandoning my belief system by moving out of Astoria. To that I argue, I have made this move for you, my devoted readers.*

*This is a lie. I'm moving for solely for myself. However, there will be several couches available for houseguests (as long as said houseguests follow my blog and don't wet the bed.)


While I will fondly remember the time I spent in my 2-room studio in Queens, when I take residence in Murray Hill this weekend, my geographic location alone makes me instantly more qualified to be musing about Manhattan. In fact, I'm gonna go out on a limb and promise more entertaining posts.

One reason for this vow is my new super awesome roomate. Her and I see eye-to-eye on most things in life, and all things related to booze. We haven't officially moved in, but our fridge already contains several Bud Light tall boys, a few Diet Dr. Peppers stolen from the office, and some leftover wings and nachos from Dukes. We firmly believe that many of life's adventures can be improved with a splash of alcohol. Our conversations go something like this:


-"Wanna get started on painting the living room?"
-"Should we go on a beer run first?"
-"I'll grab the keys, you get the elevator."

In addition to my new partner in crime, we live on one of the best blocks in NYC. There, I said it. Being a stone's throw from the most potent margaritas at Rio Grande, the best Sunday Funday football special at McFadden's, $2 PBR's at Brother Jimmy's, and a few short blocks from Two-For Tuesdays at Opal, I'm fairly confident that sobriety will be at a minimum.

Moreover, I will be saving $89 per month by not purchasing an unlimited ride metro card, as I can walk to my office in 7 minutes flat. This money will be directly funneled to my bar tabs.

Oh yea, the view from Penthouse-C includes the Empire State Building.

NBD.

Not only are there plenty of places to engage in debauchery on the east side, but our proximity to the shuttle at Grand Central makes the west side bar scene exponentially more accessible. I'll be regaling you with tales of topless sluts at Bourbon Street, beer pong victories at Jake's Dilemma and the Gin Mill, and other such UWS shenanigans.

And so begins a new era in the metropolitan musings blog.

(That is, if a new era can really begin after only 2 months).

A New Level of Liberal

Apparently this team in London hasn't read my thoughts on casual Fridays.

I can't see how this would be a more positive work environment...

unless you happen to work with any of People Magazine's sexiest men alive.

Meanwhile, the British National Health Service is promoting

an orgasm a day as part of their Health Education curriculum.

What the hell is going on over there??

Eat Out!

Recession or no recession, now's the time to eat out at fancy restaurants. Thanks to the tanking economy, NYC Restaurant Week has been extended through the end of July. (Earlier this year restaurant week was a month long.)

I do not claim to be a gastronome,* but I love restaurant week. The main reason for my appreciation is that, for the duration of this promotion, I feel as though the world of dining out becomes a level playing field. Many of the participating restaurants are normally so pretentious that I would be too intimidated to even stand outside their door and read their menus. (Most of which don't have an entree for less than $45, if the price is listed at all.)

*Ironically this was the word of the day according to the elevator in my building - consult a dictionary if you're perplexed.

While I can barely pronounce half the food items used as garnishes, I am not deterred from ordering at these establishments during restaurant week. Any Joe-Shmo can go to Opentable* and make reservations at a 5 star restaurant. (Note to male readers - this is the perfect opportunity to impress a woman by taking her on an actual ::gasp:: date.)

*Sidenote: Opentable IPO'd earlier this year, being one of a handful of companies that went public in the first half of 2009. Averaging $30 a share, it's not a bad investment**

**Follow up on sidenote: I am in no way qualified to be giving investment advice.

Anyway, I don't participate in restaurant week the way a normal (translation: classy) metropolitan would. The way it works is simple: a 3 course dinner costs $35. The catch being, this price does not include alcohol or gratuity, which poses a huge red flag. It's easy to spend at least double that on booze alone, so approach these restaurants with caution. If a regularly priced entree is no less than $45, you can bet your ass they won't serve a bottle of wine for less than $50.

Skirting this issue is quite easy in the big apple... if you have a well-laid plan:

First, browse the restaurants that interest you. (A full list is available in the link above.) Make sure that they have seating availability after 7:30pm. Make reservations at several places of varying cuisines. (As long as you are sure to call and cancel you won't get blacklisted by Opentable). I'd recommend Mexican, Asian-Fusion, and New American. Try to pick restaurants in the same vicinity.

Now the fun part....

Look up Drink Deals in the same neighborhood as your restaurants. For those of you who thought happy hour was only a Thursday night phenomenon, think again. You can find drink specials anywhere in Manhattan for any night of the week. As soon as you get out of work, go to the bar, grab a few 2-for-1 cocktails, work up an appetite, and then decide which cuisine you're in the mood for. You'll be glad you made three different reservations after you've downed 4 margaritas and are craving Mexican food like a pregnant woman. Make sure you cancel with the other two restaurants and make your merry way to dinner!

When you arrive at dinner with a buzz, fear not! The prix fix menus for restaurant week usually only have 3 or 4 options for each course. Settle in, enjoy the ambiance, order a cocktail and try your hardest to keep it together if you've already had too much to drink.

Bon appétit!

A Quickie

- At the risk of sounding like a yuppie, dropping off my dirty clothes at the laundromat this morning was probably the best $15 I've spent this summer. They took more care in folding my underwear than I do, and even though they used my detergent, I swear my clothes smell better. Now if only I could get someone to make my bed every day.

- I bought a new planner tonight, not because I needed one, but because I have an uncontrollable urge to be organized. It's smaller than the one I already own and will fit better in my purse (which I realize is the weakest justification for wasteful spending ever). I've already filled in my plans through September... which made me overly excited for football season and the many Sunday Fundays to come. 

- I'm not an avid believer in the Zodiac, but my horoscope today was more ludicrous than usual.... "You can barely drag yourself away from the books and computer long enough to eat. Don't forget to do that.".... Really? Don't forget to EAT? Thanks for the spiritual guidance.

- Finally, does anyone really care how Levi Johnston is going to vote?? As much as I agree with his anti-Palin sentiment, if America is taking political cues from this lame brain, we're more fucked than I thought. I wouldn't be surprised if he appears in a low budget porn 5 years from now.

There IS such a thing as crappy candy

I walk past the Hallmark store on 46th and Lex every morning on my way to work. Sometimes I stop in to browse the selection of greeting cards because I love sending snail mail to my friends. Today, however, I was annoyed - not just because it's Monday, but because the store is currently advertising the arrival of the 2009 line of Christmas tree ornaments. I firmly believe Christmas in July is one of the most ridiculous concepts ever. If we can start planning for a holiday 6 months in advance, I think it's also fair that we start celebrating my birthday in August.

When I got to work I couldn't help but muse to myself about absurd holiday traditions. Ironically enough I sparked up a conversation with my friend Rory about jelly beans and realized that my aversion to all candies affiliated with major holidays might be blogworthy material. (If you disagree, feel free to stop reading.)

Valentine's Day: I think a heart shaped box of Russel Stover's chocolates is quite possibly the worst gift ever. First, it shows absolutely no thought. Second, the contents completely suck. I'd honestly rather be given a Snicker's bar than a box of mystery chocolate... It is NOT fun biting into one candy filled with delicious caramel and then another filled with some pink goo that reminds me too much of toothpaste.

Also awful are those boxes of heart-shaped antacid-like candies with lame phrases like "hug me." They taste like chalk and were only marginally cute in first grade when boys & girls had no idea how else to flirt. I can't believe they are still being manufactured.

Easter: While several treats have emerged in association with Easter Sunday, there is still some debate as to the "official" candy for this holiday. (The debate of course being between myself and aforementioned friend.) Regardless, I contend that they all suck equally.

Peeps - Whose idea was it to coat marshmallows in colorful sugar anyway? What are parents thinking buying these for their offspring? "Hey kids, it's Easter... Let's see who can suffer diabetic shock first!" The only place marshmallows should appear are at a campfire for s'mores or on a nutella and fluff sandwich.

Jelly Beans - I'm an equal opportunity hater of both regular jelly beans and the "gourmet" variety. My feelings are this: if you need to disguise the original flavor of a jelly bean to taste like something else (be it popcorn or bubblegum, or whatever other flavor JellyBelly has concocted) the original candy must inherently suck. Why wouldn't you just eat popcorn or chew bubblegum?? I think jelly beans belong at the bottom of the Easter basket buried in the synthetic grass.

Cadbury Eggs - What the shit are these things filled with anyway? The consistency is beyond questionable. While I appreciate the realism in trying to make the chocolate egg resemble a real egg, if I'm looking for yolk and albumen I'll grab myself an actual hard boiled egg and call it a snack.

Halloween: The only thing that makes me angrier than a sack full of pennies while trick or treating is a bag full of candy corn. Candy corn isn't even a bargaining chip when trading candy with your siblings. We put that crap right back in the communal bucket to redistribute around the neighborhood. And is it just me, or do they bear a striking resemblance to rotting teeth?

Christmas - If candy canes can be hung on a tree for decoration, they should not also be edible. In fact, I'd argue that they are not edible. I wouldn't be surprised if stores re-used last year's inventory during this year's sale. Do candy canes even have an expiration date?


And this is why Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. There's no nonsense, no bullshit, not horrific sugary snacks, just a solid meal with too many side dishes, decadent desserts, and plenty of leftovers to gorge yourself again the next day.

My (non-existent) Political Career

With Sarah Palin resigning as Alaska's governor , I couldn't help but muse about the many reasons I could never run for political office. To avoid boring all 6 of my readers with an interminable list, I've highlighted what I consider to be the top 5 grounds for my failure...

1. As a college student there wasn't much I wouldn't do for a string of plastic mardi gras beads. In retrospect, I'm completely amazed at the power those necklaces wielded over drunk co-eds. What the fuck am I going to do with all that purple, green, and gold after Fat Tuesday? You would think they were a new form of currency. If I could use them to pay rent, that'd be a different story. No doubt, very many questionable photos would surface on my campaign trail.

2. I can't debate... at least not about anything politically relevant. If they changed the topics from foreign affairs to the best types of beer for summer or why Astoria is better than Hoboken, just call me Madame President.

3. My relationship situations need not be publicly broadcast. I would never survive a lifestyle in which I'd be forced to adhere to the rules of sex scandal management.

4. I'm way too emotional to be in control of an entire country...or state...or sometimes even my own life. I'd probably have a very difficult time staying calm during nuclear arms talks, especially while PMSing.

5. I have a hard enough time choosing an outfit for a Saturday night, let alone picking something to wear for a televised speech in front of the entire nation.* Withstanding public scrutiny is not, and will never be one of my strengths.

*America elects its first black president and

newspapers find first lady's attire equally newsworthy.

Really?

The Art of the Beer-B-Q

Well it still doesn't feel like summer, fuck you very much mother nature, but that's not gonna stop me from engaging in 4th of July shenanigans or blogging about outdoor activities. There's really no better excuse for afternoon debauchery than a good old fashioned BBQ.

I often salivate thinking about juicy cheeseburgers, bigger-than-the-bun hot dogs, ribs & wings smothered in marinades, steaks, kabobs, and all those useless salads that we load on our plates with no actual intention of eating. (In case it's not obvious, I'm a huge fan of food.) And of course, this feast would not be complete without superfluous amounts of alcohol.

Sounds glorious right?

It absolutely is.... Until you are too stuffed to move and the thought of another beer makes you feel sick. Or worse, you actually get sick. Not fucking up a BBQ requires one to delicately balance eating and drinking in the presence of abundance. The concept here is one that I'm vaguely familiar with: Self Control.

There are many factors to take into consideration before the festivities even begin:

On day drinking: I've learned from experience that how early you start drinking is directly proportional to how early you end up face down in your neighbor's Azalea bushes. Don't invite people over before 2pm.

Stick to beer:
- If you can spot the money for your friends, get a keg and collect $5 from everyone. (FYI- If you're a dude who is trying to get laid by a particular girl, she shouldn't have to pay.) The cleanup is exponentially easier than cases and you don't have to worry about a BYO situation where someone ends up bitching that their stash of Smirnoff Ice was stolen.

- Don't serve Smirnoff Ice. Or Mike's Hard Lemonade, or Zima (unless the theme of your party is 9th grade), or any other fruity carbonated beverages.... Everyone knows wine coolers are for pussies.

- Don't offer a full bar of hard liquor. Midday shots will lead to disaster. If you want to serve a fun summer beverage for the few inevitable female guests who "just don't like beer" I'd recommend a jungle juice concotion (avoiding fruit punch as an ingredient because that's just bound to ruin someone's white shirt.) Try this Skippy recipe from the Digital Bartender. And if you really want to guarantee a shitshow, substitute the vodka for Everclear. Nothing says blackout like grain alcohol.

Setting Up:
Don't blow it. When trying to keep the masses entertained, you need to make sure your set up is user-friendly. As awesome as a beirut table is, keep in mind that it's not an all inclusive activity. Make sure you have at least two other tables and plenty of chairs in the yard. Set up a second table for survivor flip cup and have an additional table for people to actually sit and converse. Don't forget extra cups, balls, and pitchers for seamless transitions from game to game.


Assign a Grill Master:
If you're the host, it should not be you. You have enough to worry about. That said, it's a pretty huge responsibility so make sure you choose someone who knows when meat is properly cooked and is less likely to set their own eyebrows ablaze. Food poisoining can be a real bitch and no one wants the fire department to show up...unless they're these guys--->

Once the festivities begin you should exercise some restraint when stuffing your face. You don't look attractive if you're the pig of the group and you'll be even less attractive if you have to pull the trigger before the sun sets. However, if you need to read this dieter's guide to BBQ survival you should probably just make other plans.

Hope everyone sees all sorts of fireworks this weekend!