game changer.

East 4th Street. New York, NY

Something strange you might not know about Indiana: until 2006, we didn’t observe daylight savings time.  Why?  Because the farmers insisted that their days were controlled by the sun, not the clock and daylights savings would cost them sixty minutes of valuable morning productivity.  Hmm.  Here’s a thought.  Maybe instead of corn and tobacco you guys could try growing a pair.  Ha!  Anyway, I think all those years of DST deprivation is why I can’t stop telling people (strangers) how excited I am for March 14.
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Sunset at 7:00pm?  Yes, puhlease.

seduction slash arts.

Slash: Paper Under the Knife. New York, NY

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Two weeks ago I met this guy (for anonymity’s sake let’s call him “Charles”) and his friend Wayne at my go-to East Village coffee shop Mudspot.  After a brief exchange with Charles, he asked if I had a boyfriend and then for my number.  I hesitated aloud – which sounds a lot like “ummmmmm” – as I calculated his percentage of crazy {high % = definite no due to possibility of physical danger, low % = okay to oblige and defer looking like a cynical city bitch until later}.  Charles fell in the latter percentile and managed, despite my lackluster attempts to ignore his text, phone call, and voicemail, to convince me to travel above 42nd Street to check out Slash: Paper Under the Knife at MAD the following weekend.  As I predicted:  great exhibit, good conversation, zero attraction.
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And then something I couldn’t have possibly predicted:
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After mulling over some of the stranger moments of the date later that day (comments like “I wouldn’t exactly call Wayne a friend” and “We both thought hesitating before giving out your number was a great move!”), I decided to do a little research and quickly discovered that Wayne is actually Wayne Elise, a professional within the seduction community who gets paid to teach people the dynamics of effective conversation with strangers (ie how to pick up women).  He’s also a contributing author of “The Game.”
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ummmmmm. ….{low %}
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As it turns out, not only is his philosophy very well regarded within this community, it’s also kind of brilliant.  Here’s an mp3 of Wayne giving a seminar in Irvine, CA on April 26, 2007.

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stars, they’re just like us.


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Thank goodness my roommate and I are both local NYC celebrities.  Living with a not so famous nobody would just be not so awesome.  And now you’ll have to excuse me as our butler, driver, and PR rep keep blowin’ up my phones, phones.

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and i’m gonna be forty.

Holiday Inn. Farmhouse, New England.

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I realized this morning I have officially  spent this entire year out of college.  And instead of heading into the new year with a master plan, an all-consuming life project, or even a boring stock answer to the socially awful yet ever-so-popular inquiry of what I want to do with the rest of my post-college life, I’m full up on a whole bunch of these winners:
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Men and women can never be friends.
Going out of town was just a fancy way of saying, “I’m gonna get some.”
My job sucked sometimes…but not all the time.
No work Mondays made life awesome.
Free stuff made life awesome.
Bartenders made life awesome.
I went to the gym 215 times.
I’m still really good at looking stuff up.
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“Happy Fucking New Years Mother Fuckers.” – CWD

not like.

highline 045
The Highline. New York, NY

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. . . LOVE . . .

when Fridays feel like Fridays

lady laa di baba.

catherine baba
Catherine Baba. Someplace, Fabulous

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Today I found a whole new reason to love the internet and it’s called the nytimes.com video library.  I rarely check the nytimes homepage until well after lunch, but this morning I was in a mix it up kind of mood and after only a few minutes on the site I already knew where and when the next world series game was going down and was happily watching a video feature on how to get hard cash for my family’s gold heirlooms in the diamond district. OOOhhh soo tempting.
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But then I realized the web layout I was navigating was really foreign to me.  I mean, I knew I was on the nytimes website, but there were all these videos!  Tons and tons and tons of videos about soooo many different things.  And this place, this glorious video library place, was all kinds of dark and mysterious and recommending things I actually wanted to watch and learn about!  Like the Urban Eye feature on CMJ!  And that random snow day last year!  And, oh my goodness, what’s this?  Would I like to go backstage at the Marc Jacobs Spring 2010 show?
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No no, I would not like to go.I’d LOVE to go.
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Now, follow me, because I want to introduce you to the FABULOUS Catherine Baba.  She’s a stylist who attended Marc’s show and says things like, “Darling” and “Laa-Di-Daa” and “I feeeeeeeeel DIVINE,” and I would like to be her very much.
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Pleeeeeeased to meeeeeet you, darling.

this ain’t got shit to do wit shampoo.

yo mtv raps
Yo MTV Raps. Music, TV

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Frankly, there’s nothing more satisfying than a work computer virus scan before 9am.  You know, because now I can update my blog and dick around on the internet . . . FASTER!  Also, in case you’re just tuning in, tomorrow is the Big Move and officially marks the end of the Most Dangerous Apartment Search.  And despite the stress and anxiety and overwhelming feeling that there’s going to be even more hurdles to clear, I do believe some hip hop hurray’s are definitely in order:
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To a purging of all the shit I don’t need anymore!
To a plethora of everything must go deals on craigslist!
To a bedroom aesthetic that doesn’t resemble a funhouse!
To a 7 foot reach-in closet, big windows, and a fire escape all to myself!
To a clean, comfortable, and creative East Village apartment to call home!
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Hip hop hurray, indeed.
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Ho.

don’t you lie to me.

trader joe's
March 2006 Grand Opening. Trader Joe’s, Union Square.

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Could this really be true?

I will be seriously disappointed if this is just another bullshit Guess what? Trader Joe’s is opening up a second location in New York City! rumor.  But in case this just so happens to be legit, would you mind picking me up some Strawberry Yogurt O’s, Vanilla Soy Milk, and Wild Boreal Blueberries on your way home?

Thanks!

welcome to the club.

tights
Thanks, Jane. New York, NY

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Lately, in order to quell my non-stop obsession slash anxiety over my upcoming move and how exactly to maximize the space in my adorable slash totally awesome East Village shoebox, I’ve been spending some quality time perusing the New York Times Real Estate Section.  You know, because it’s always nice to know someone else’s apartment hunt was way more horrific than mine or that $220,000 can get me a really fantastic three bedroom bungalow . . . in Idaho.

Anyway, last Thursday they did a feature on Jean-Marie Grenier and his wife Jane (pictured above) who live in a former funeral home in Greenpoint.  Blah blah blah. Jean-Marie is a scultpor! Jane works at Condé Nast! They live in a funeral home! That’s so spooky! That’s so scary! Let’s all go to a werewolf bar mitzvah! Oh, wait, I totally know that woman.  She goes to my gym!  In fact, not only does she go to my gym, but she also gave me the best budget fashion advice I have received since moving to New York.

Back in December I happened to see Jane in the locker room and commented on how fantastic and incredibly opaque her tights were.  Sidebar:  if you have average sized to study little tree trunk sized legs like mine, you know that owning a pair of opaque tights that actually stay opaque once you put them on is about as likely as fitting into a pair of size zero skinny jeans.  But Jane changed all of that nonsense because she let me in on the biggest fashion insider secret ever.  She told me that I too could join the opaque even after you put them on tights club without having to invest $52 on a pair of Matte Opaque Wolfords (what she was wearing, of course) by just wearing two pairs of throw-aways from Duane Reade.

Holy crap.
Two pairs.
At the same time!

Ladies, ladies.  I know what you’re thinking.  It’ll feel really funny! It doesn’t make any sense! It’s probably a trick! Well, I’m here to tell you it’s not a trick and you really just need to shut up and try it because it will revolutionize your winter wardrobe and you’ll only have me (and Jane) to thank.

So yeah, you’re welcome (and thank you, Jane).

where in the world is carmen sandiego?

in it to win it
She’s Probably Moving. New York, NY

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Wow.  Wow.  Wow.  So many things have happened in the past few days!  I guess if I had to put together a what in the world has Amy been up to Top 5 List, it would probably look like this:

5.  hung out with my sister who flew in from London
4.  found a [fantastic, fun, clean, considerate, honest, gainfully employed] roommate
3.  updated my address . . . a lot
2.  tried Locanda Verde’s outrageously awesome breakfast
1.  picked up the keys to my new apartment

Though there’s still absurd amount of things I need to pack / figure out / do between now and the big move, I feel pretty great that I’ve gotten a few of the major ones out of the way.  Also, [shameless plug] if you live in New York and want to buy a GIANT couch, credenza, set of floor lamps, or a TV, just let me know before October 1st.  Okay, now I really must get back to work ie obsessing over my upcoming move while attempting to read the entire internet . . .

Later!

oooh, he shoulda gone with mama.

Unlike Jessie Spano, I don’t really mind being called “Mama.”  It’s not the most common of cat calls, but when it does happen I tend to see it more as a musing on the privilege and beauty of motherhood than anything else.  Kind of smart and sweet, really.  But if I have to endure one more sweaty, breathy, manhandled muttering of “Beautiful,” heads are going to roll.

ROLL.

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from ear to ear.

dreaming 009
Not a Tourist, Not Likely a New Yorker. New York, NY

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Last night, as I crossed Manhattan from East to West and made my way home, a warm dusk enveloped the streets making the city feel calm and comfortable for the first time in a long time.  I’m not sure whether it was the woman dropping a letter in her neighborhood mailbox or the trio of good friends laughing long and hard through eachother’s company or the stoic Rottweiler that let me pat his head while we all waited for the light to turn, but I really wanted to smile.

So I did.

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today’s nyc life tests = math + moving.

cut offs

On my walk to work this morning I forgot how old I was.
Am I 21?  Nope. 22?  Hmm. I think that was last year. . .
OMG blanks. I’m drawing blanks! How old am I?!
I had to do the math to stop freaking out.
Way to start the day off scary, Marsh.

Oh!  Speaking of scary, I’ve also begun the horrendously terrifying yet ever-so-popular NYC life test of trying to find an apartment . . . in Brooklyn!  I’ve wanted to make this move for a while now and it’s seriously exciting albeit daunting/nerve-racking that by October 1st (fingers crossed) I will be all packed, moved, and on my way to living in a borough that feels more like my favorite pair of sample sale cut-offs rather than that seriously X-rated spandex leotard I still can’t convince myself to wear out in public.

Read:  too much sexy makes this baby go blind.

but i’m not the only one.

oh shit
The Dreamers. Metro; July 22, 2009

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Oh man.
That’s me.
In the Metro.

To be fair, I wasn’t dreaming when the reporter snapped my photo – I was in the middle of reading Kitchen Confidential.  Clearly, I’m more famous than my chef/author/tv host husband Anthony Bourdain, but we usually deal with the underbelly of famous couple syndrome like real champs.

the high line is my drug of choice.

highline 023highline 024highline 026highline 027highline 034highline 035highline 038highline 039highline 041highline 044highline 045highline 050highline 052highline 057highline 060highline 061

The High Line. New York, NY

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Sometimes I hear people complaining about The High Line’s megaoverhypedom and ridiculous besidesthepointness, but I really couldn’t disagree with that opinion more.  For me,  The High Line is unbelievably powerful and makes possibilities for growth and change feel nothing short of infinite.  All I want to do everytime I visit that gorgeous stretch of communal post industrial urban outdoor space is live a better life.  Maybe even be a better human being.  I really wish I was kidding, because I sound like a blubbering liberal lunatic.  But I’m not . . . kidding.

anthony bourdain is totally my [lino]type.

As if Anthony Bourdain could get any hotter, he has to go and print this on the very last page of Kitchen Confidential:.

A NOTE ON THE TYPE

The text of this book is set in Linotype Sabon, named after the type founder, Jacques Sabon.  It was designed by Jan Tschichold and jointly developed by Linotype, Monotype and Stempel, in response to a need for a typeface to be available in identical form for mechanical hot metal composition and hand composition using foundry type.

Tschichold based his design for Sabon roman on a fount engraved by Garamond, and Sabon italic on a fount by Granjon.  It was first used in 1966 and has proven an enduring modern classic.

Holy shit, Bourdain.
Sex, drugs, alcohol, food, and fonts?
Do me.  Okay, thanks.

thanks, in advance.

Officially, I’m confident no more than 3 people read this blog.  Unofficially, I don’t really care so I’m still going to ask these people for major life advice because it’s my blog and I can do whatever the hell I want so just let it go, okay?  Here’s the deal:

1.  I’ve been a paralegal since I graduated college (a year and some change).
2.  I have zero interest in ever doing anything remotely relating to law.  Disgusting.  Gross.
3.  I only accepted the position because I just needed a Jay Oh Be.  Baaaad.
4.  The honeymoon period ended about 2 weeks ago.
5.  Lists should be made in increments of 3, 5, or 10.

If you know me, you know that I’m at my happiest when I’m doing some combination of laughing, writing, organizing, thinking, creating, brainstorming, influencing.  Some might even say, obsessing.  If you don’t know me, you’re probably starting to get a decent idea seeing as how I just described almost all competent yet creative entry level paycheck to paycheck office drones my age still wondering why we were encouraged to graduate from the sublimely sweet comforts of college . . . for this.  Seriously.  I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know who I want to be.  I don’t know where to go.  It’s like I’ve hit this incredibly terrifying wall built conveniently between myself and my life and it’s leaving me frustrated and jealous and scared and ultimately wincing every time I’m asked what I do for a living.  Comon, do you really care what the answer is slash are you really going to remember any of this conversation, anonymous bar dude standing in my way while I’m trying to take up the least amount of space as I order my overpriced Amstel Light?  Yeah, I didn’t think so either.  I know most of us end up in this head space at some point, but I’m getting pretty fed up with feeling so stagnant and stale and still.  Therefore, I could really use your advice.  Or a giant kick in the ass.  Maybe both.  What do you think?

What should I do?
Who should I be?
Where should I go?

Thanks in advance,
Amy

{Possible answers may include, but are not limited to:  quit your job, don’t quit your job, take a vacation, take a class, take a valium, be an artist, be an ice cream store owner, be a better person, go West, go East, go abroad, go get em’}

shit.

Not Dreaming.  New York, NY
Definitely Not Dreaming. New York, NY

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I didn’t come to New York to follow my dreams.  Neither did Patrick.  Umm shit.

a little liquid lunch.

Today my favorite attorney asked me to relax and go to a bar.  Okay, so maybe there wasn’t a whole lot of liquor involved, but I did take a leisurely trip to The Association of the Bar of the City of New York to retrieve a couple of legal reference books for her.  I was told that the address of the building was 42 West 44th Street, which, for those of you not familiar with New York City, is right in the middle of Midtown Manhattan. {insert rolling eyes and lengthy groaning here} Naturally, I assumed this building would be just like the rest of them; cold, uninviting, uninspiring midtown muddle.  In other words, a complete waste of space.

But.  But.  But.  I was totally wrong.

This building was, in fact, absolutely breathtaking.  Upon entering, I was curiously reminded of the moody mystery created by the classic children’s book From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler and Stanley Clark School, a private elementary school in Indiana and former mansion whose original entry ways and stained glass windows and tiling were all kept carefully intact.  I spent Kindergarten through 8th grade there and I can’t imagine being the person that I am today without having done so.  Man, oh man, do I miss that school.  Anyways, in case you’re interested, here’s a taste of what I found at 42 West 44th Street:
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bar1

bar2

bar3

bar4

bar5

bar6

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I know.  I know!
I think I might be in love. 
{lady swoons}

a pleasant surprise.

[almost] super targetajnote

I promised myself I would never do it.  Our attraction and desire for each other was unbelievably strong, but I knew deep down it was only going to end badly, most likely with tears and irreparable emotional scarring.  Clearly, there were tons of warning signs and everyone I spoke with warned me to stay far far away.  But, after a year of endless flirtation and suggestive glances and unanswered late-night booty calls, I couldn’t help myself.  By George, it was time.

. . . to visit the Brooklyn Target.

Well, to be honest, the main reason I finally gave in was because I recently discovered the Sonia Kashuk make-up line for Target through a NY Magazine advertisement and my co-worker Andrea and I were more than a little interested.  Okay.  So maaaybe there was a slightly inappropriate number of girlish squeals and giggles and tantrums and  “oooooo nooooo”s echoing from our cubicles.  Maaybe.  Well, anyway, Andrea was in desperate need of a make-up brush bag and Sonia just so happens to make an adorable one for a totally affordable price.  And so before I knew it, I was hopping on the downtown Q after work on Wednesday to break my year-long “Targets That Are Definitely NOT Super” celibacy.

And you know what?

There wasn’t any emotional scarring.
It didn’t even end in tears.
In fact, I’m totally fine.
Really.  Really!

So maybe the shelves weren’t very color-coded or clean or overflowing with that oh-so-amazing Targety goodness that makes me wanna do the Risky Business No Pants Dance down the aisles the way my gargantuan SUPER Target in Indiana does, but the Brooklyn Target did happen to have one of Sonia’s make-up brush bags left!  Yessss.  I then discovered rather quickly that this was the kind of Target that wouldn’t mind taking me out for a casual dinner if I came without a clear shopping list and might even offer to pay if I arrived solo right after work on a rainy Wednesday.  But if I tried to look for something specific in a quantity larger than none-1 on a sunny Saturday afternoon with a slowly creeping headache, this Target would probably just graze my boob “accidentally,” ask for my underwear, and then leave me with the bill itching for [no] more.

Oh.   No.   He.   Didn’t.

Well, with me he didn’t.  So yay!
All in all, I was pleasantly surprised.
Thanks for dinner, Brooklyn Target.

{awkward hugging}

ummm.  I’ll call you!

current crushes.

harvey.luther.rosalie.

Dear Harvey, Luther, & Rosalie,

I think you would really love New York in the summertime.
Madison Square Park is right across from my office.
It’s a really awesome hangout for you and your compadres.
Also, the Shake Shack has an ice cream treat just for dogs!

Fondly yours,
Amy

today’s forecast = brainstorming.

ice cream collage
My Ice Cream Store. New York, NY

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If I build it, they will come [for the black raspberry chip ice cream, chalkboard menus, hand-painted storefront window, bright eyed babies, superb store dog, soda in glass bottles, mason jars, vintage tile flooring, and suggestion box].

i can’t stop ice screaming.

graeter'sSometimes, when the air feels exciting and fresh and full of more possibilities than I can wrap my mind around, a single idea finds its way into my head and plants itself with such persistence and gumption that it consumes everything I’ve got until my idea obsession has gotten so out of control that it practically reaches pregnant midnight craving proportions.

In the past, this idea has ranged from mystery shopping to crush-o-gram [scaming] to hanging 250 super bouncy balls for, you know, the fun of it.  Right now, that idea is opening up an old school, superkind, superfine, mom and pop ice cream shop in Hell’s Kitchen.

Challenges # 1, 2, & 3:  I have no clue how to make ice cream let alone run a small business.  Oh, and in case you haven’t heard, the economy has just reached a new level of crashandburn.  Wish me luck!

rooftop space needed for photoshoot.

Last week, as I tried to cure my “oh my god I’m having the slowest work week ever”-itis by attempting to read the entire internet, I [thankfully] stumbled upon a section of Craigslist NYC I had never noticed before.  While I thoroughly enjoy discovering where I can find a women’s beach cruiser with at least 5 gears for under $100 or what the rapidly declining rent of a 2 bedroom on the LES is or if the too cool for school Trader Joe’s employee has finally decided to take our flirty any number of items checkout banter to the next level, I never considered using the Gigs section to truck through my on-again off-again bout of  “omgihtswwe”-itis.

As it turns out, Gigs are usually one-time/part-time, under the table, tax free job postings that range from late-night dog walking to Thai language tutoring to 3D photorealistic artistry to podcast modeling [just to name a few].  Making my way through this whole new world of on the side, on the fly, money making opportunities and imagining the awesomeness of walking some kept woman’s giant Burmese Mountain Dog during my lunch break so she can attend a Kundalini yoga class, I stumbled upon this:

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Rooftop Space needed for Photoshoot (Manhattan)

I am looking to do a photoshoot on a rooftop in Manhattan (or on the Queens/Brooklyn side if it is right by the water). Date is btwn May 28-31 (tbd). Duration: 4-5 hours. Please respond with rate. Thanks!

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It is really scary how close I came to responding to this post.  Not only is the roof of my Hell’s Kitchen apartment building currently accessible due to some temporary hallway construction, but I’ve also been completely in love with it ever since the 4th of July roof party we had the summer I moved here was perfectly punctuated with incredibly unique and stunning views of the city.  Clearly, the creator of this post was speaking only to me.  Everyone else go away.  Seriously, dudes.  Scram!

But.  But.  But.  [there’s always a but]

I don’t really own the building I live in and we’re not technically allowed to be on the roof so I started to realized it would be extremely unwise for me to respond to this post as all parties involved would definitely end up with various disappointments [like fines/eviction notices].  Then my inner middle schooler monologue kicked in and said, “umm, Amy, how about we not and say we did?” Ugh.  Whatever.  You know, you’re a real baby.  Why don’t you go read the latest Goosebumps or something?  Yeah, you heard me!  I’m gonna go download some free fonts now.  Shut up!  This is you in the future!  Moving on…

By the end of the week, Craigslist Gigs had eased my “omgihtswwe”-itis smoothly into the weekend and suddenly it was Saturday and my roommate Patrick and I were ushering in a slow start to summer by sunbathing on [you guessed it] the roof.  I told him all about the post I had found and he completely agreed how outrageously awesome this space would be for a photoshoot.  At that moment we both got these really ridiculous/mischievous grins on our faces and before I knew it my Canon Powershot SD600 had been busted out and was going from 0 to 60 on an impromptu amateur photoshoot.  Here’s a little taste of what went down:
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i'm on the roof.

patrick's on the roof.

i'm on the roof again.

patrick's on the roof again.

yup, still here.

Craigslist Gigs ain’t got nothing on us.
Foolios.

Zing!

current crushes.

brandi.herbie.molly.

Dear Brandi, Herbie, and Molly,

Please run away with me.
You can live in my [no dogs allowed] apartment in New York City.
You will eat like kings and life will be GRAND!

Love,
Amy

PS – All of these dogs live at the Pet Refuge, a no-kill animal shelter in my hometown in Indiana.  Their website features pictures [and bios] of every dog available for adoption and I have little to no self control when it comes to falling hard for each of them.  Again, for the bizillionth time:

I.   LOVE.   DOGS.

you say it’s your birthday.

I worked on my birthday and I liked it.  New York, NY.
I worked on my birthday and I liked it. New York, NY

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I turned 23 today.  Usually when people inquire “How old are you?” these people are always many years older than me and inevitably roll their eyes or even laugh out loud when I cheerfully reply “I’m 22!”  Over the past year I’ve come to discover that beyond the soothing womb of college, there’s something totally young and naive and inferior about being 22.  No one wants to take you seriously because all they hear is “I’m 22 and I’m really inexperienced and I have NO IDEA what the hell I’m talking about because, let’s face it, I’m a total baby!”  Naturally, my first instinct is to avoid this question at all costs.

But…

Now I get to say that I’m 23 and that’s completely different!  That’s a whole 12 months of post-college experience right there!  I file my own taxes.  I sign apartment leases without a guarantors.  I make dinner without using a microwave.

I.  AM.  AWESOME.

Speaking of awesome, I cannot end today’s post without expressing how completely obsessed I am with the fine folks at my office who went out of their way to help me celebrate my birthday.   Starting from top left and moving clockwise, a HUGE thank you goes out to Ellen, Alison, Andrea, Jenny, and Julian.  You and Mohammed Ali are the GREATEST.

jimmy boo hoo.

jimmy choo
125 W. 18th Street. New York, NY

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Today I went to the Jimmy Choo sample sale during lunch with my coworker Andrea.  And by went, I mean we took one look at the heinous line that stretched all the way up 18th street, along 6th Ave, and half way down 19th street and promptly decided to go to Bed Bath & Beyond instead.  Jimmy Choo’s for $75?  No, thanks.  Travel size deodorant for $1.99?  Oh, hell yes!

blue smokin’ friday.

blue smoke.  New York, NY.
Blue Smoke. New York, NY.

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Before I even got into the office day, this email was just hanging out in my inbox:

To: The Entire Office
Subject: Lunch Today

We are ordering from Blue Smoke to have a belated celebration for administrative professional day. Food should be here at around noon. Yum.

In case you are unaware, Blue Smoke is one of the top 5 BBQ joints in New York City and just so happens to be directly across the street from my office.  It’s beautiful.  It’s delicious.  It’s messy.  And for some reason the partners LOVE ordering it to-go when times are tough and the office energy starts to gain a few too many lbs on the craaazay scale.  Oh!  I also made a totally gigantic (and fabulous) binder today.  Let’s just say it’s been a pretty fantastico Friday.

my perfect weekend.

Bloomies.  Park Slope, Brooklyn.

Saturday, April 19. Park Slope, Brooklyn.

Saturday, April 18 was one of the reasons I moved to New York.  The city was gorgeous, sunny, exciting, without any limitation whatsoever, and practically begged us all to have a damn good time.  I somehow found myself hopping from Hudson River bike riding to Central Park sunbathing to Brooklyn flea marketing to Fort Greene lounging all before sunset (hopefully making Time Out NY more than proud).  Also, I have a pretty good feeling that if a randomly sunny spring day can prove to be this successful, summer is gonna blow my mind.

park.turtle.dog.

uh huh.  ooooooh yea.  one more time.  nyc byob style.