# 409: Shout Wipes magically turn small, random stains that no one but me actually notices into blaring breast milk leakage stains that I can only hope no one but me actually notices.
coffee quitter.
Yesterday, I made the potentially dangerous move to not drink any coffee [for a week].
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Am I scared? YES.
Am I crazy? Probably.
Am I tired? . . . what? No, I’m totally awake. I was just resting my eyes.
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Right now I’m trying to remember why I decided this was a good idea. I think it had something to do with leaving work early last Friday because I got soo dizzy and nauseous after downing 3 cups of black coffee on an empty stomach that I couldn’t function. I know. I know. It was a fluke! It could have been anything! Don’t blame the coffee! Seriously though, while I LOVE coffee and this totally goes against my only add things to my diet/routine that make me happy instead of depriving myself of the things I love philosophy, drinking 3-4 cups of strong black coffee every day cannot be the healthiest way to live my life. So wish me luck. Or send tea. Yeah, that’s probably a much better idea.
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Send lots and lots and lots of tea.
that dog’s dressed up like pajamas!
19th Annual Tompkins Square Halloween Dog Parade. New York, NY
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Best way to spend a Sunday morning . . . EVER.
a little warning, please.
I was in the kitchen at work this morning shaking a carton of soy milk before adding it to a bowl of cereal (Trader Joe’s Pomegranate and Blueberry Flakes and Clusters!), but before I knew what was happening the cap had popped off and suddenly I was shaking an open carton of soy milk and totally helpless as it exploded all over the cabinets, the counter, the sink, the floor, my face, and my hair...e..x..p..l..o..d..i..n..g….s..o..y….m..i..l..k….e..v..e..r..y..w..h..e..r..e...
1st thought:
Ewww. (I also said this aloud)
2nd thought:
Thank god no one saw that.
3rd thought:
If cereal is my boyfriend, I think it’s time for “the talk.” You know, the one about how he should probably give me some sort of warning before he’s about to blow his load all over my law firm’s kitchen cabinets.
Thanks, babe.
cereal is my boyfriend.
Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner. New York, NY
Strawberry Yogurt O’s . Special K with Red Berries . Cookie Crisp
Frosted Mini Wheats . Kix . Raisin Bran Crunch
Cap’n Crunch . Life . Go Lean Crunch
Stop judging. I love cereal and cereal loves me. It’s totally different when it’s just the two of us – so filling and sweet and exciting and comfortable and affordable and gooood. We’re happy together and we don’t care who knows it.
I carry your heart in my heart to heart, cereal.
i think i’ve been temper trapped.
- The Temper Trap. Melbourne, Australia
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If I were my roommate and/or co-workers right now, I’d hate me. Why? Mostly because I’ve officially slumped into one of my famous play one song and/or album on repeat for a seriously inappropriate amount of time phases {read: it could be a week, it could be 9 months, it could be . . . forever}. To be completely honest and also deflect any sort of blame for this pretty inexcusable behavior, it’s all The Temper Trap’s fault. Well, them and that scene in (500) days of Summer where the non-diegetic beats of their song “Sweet Disposition” accompany Joseph Gordon-Levitt as he picks himself up by his love-sick bootstraps, erases all the crap on his chalkboard headboard, and works tirelessly to re-vamp his dusty architecture portfolio. Oh, man. Swoon!
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{listen: “Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap}
{repeat: tracks 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 9, or 10 on their debut album Conditions}
wowed & wooed llp.
- Wow & Woo. Berwyn, PA
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On Wednesday, one of my bosses asked me to be in charge of ordering cheese for an end of the week office party, but what I really heard was:
“Amy, would you mind using your unique paralegal party planning powers of absolute awesomeness and go all out putting together an intelligent yet inviting wine and Artisanal cheese tasting for the entire office that will work (but not over-work), wow (but not over-wow), woo (but not over-woo)?”
Yes & Yes.
Done & Done.
Wowed & Wooed LLP.
holy halloween crap, batman.
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{insert sobs of joy here}
hi, my name is amy.
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and I am a registered typophile.
[and relapsed children’s book junkie]
hi, amy.
check minus.
- Yogi Tea. New York, NY
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Today my tea bag informed me:
“To be calm is the highest achievement of the self.”
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Seeing as how I’ve already consumed over 2.5 cups of strong black coffee and attempted to consolidate my federal loans online, it doesn’t look like I’m going to get a √+ in enlightenment today. But thanks anyway.
urban anthropologie 156b.
it’s time for amymaniacs.
- Dott is Cute. Saturday Morning, TV
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I laughed.
I cried.
I moved.
.
And let me tell you, the exhaustion endured by a wide-eyed twenty something who comes from a long line of stubborn women who refuse to make two trips or ask anyone for help unless death is on the line has been epic, to say the least. I promise to throw dozens of photos and fun stuff your way once the place is really ready for its close-up.
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For now, there’s baloney in my slacks.
this ain’t got shit to do wit shampoo.
- 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.
.
Ho.
don’t you lie to me.
- March 2006 Grand Opening. Trader Joe’s, Union Square.
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.
- 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).
& i thought having lavendar walls was girly.
- Probably Not My New Bed. Anthropologie, Dot Com
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Dear Anthropologie,
The fact that your gorgeous Italian campaign canopy bed belongs in my new bedroom but cannot be ordered as a full is making my afternoon on the internet less awesome. Please advise.
Sincerely,
Amy
where in the world is carmen sandiego?
- 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!
in a perfect world.
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My favorite co-workers and I decided if the office was Living Single, the cast would be as follows:
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Maxine / AJ (the sharp-tongued attorney)
Khadijah / Alison (the hard-working editor of Flavor, an independent urban magazine)
Regine / Angela (the unabashed fashionista in search of a well-to-do man)
Synclaire / Me (Khadijah’s sweet but naïve cousin)
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SMOOCHES!
east 7th street between 1st & a.
Apartment # 16 Wish List. New York, NY
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The search is over, the lease is signed, and the ink is dry! Now I just need a fun, clean, considerate, honest, gainfully employed roommate to share it with . . .
one saturday morning.
This morning around 6am, Patrick and I were awake for no reason.
Patrick: WE SHOULD PLAY VIDEO GAMES!
Me: I’m pretty sure we have an xbox.
Patrick: Yeah, but there aren’t any controllers so we could only watch the menu screens.
Me: {long pause} do dooo dooo dooo do do doodoodoodoo.
Patrick: Is there a “Push It” video game I don’t know about?!
seesuuuhhhns of luhhhhhhve.
- 110 E. 7th Street. New York, NY
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Dear Summer 2009,
I’m sorry, I can’t.
Don’t hate me.
Dear Fall 2009,
I had a great time last night.
Let’s do it again soon.
Amy
i used to watch some great tv on that couch.
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The first 3 people to fill in the blank correctly will receive extra extravagant prizes!
(Mr. JS, this is for you)
always a charlotte, i choose my choice.
i promise it won’t be a case of the mondays.
goodmorning, vietnam.
It’s August.
Which means.
I’ve got nothing to do.
And the office was not very receptive.
To my “notable deaths are so hot right now” comment.
It’s been an amazing week, really.
do’s and don’t knows.
.
Things I don’t know:
Where I will be living October 1st.
Things I do know:
Blimps are very funny.
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.
i like this place, this prospect heights.
taking lunch in the office treehouse.
- The Office Treehouse. In My Head, USA.
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Sometimes, when I just can’t take it anymore, I like to go here.
You’re more than welcome to join me . . . anytime.
an apartment sing-a-long with xtina & amy.
homework first, then ambient drone.
- Animal Collective. Prospect Park, Brooklyn.
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Seeing Animal Collective perform at the Prospect Park Bandshell this past weekend made we wonder, if this is the kind of shit my friends and I listen to, then what the hell will my children be listening to? I can only imagine . . .
Me: Honey, dinner’s ready. Hon? What’s goi–
My Kid: Shhhhh!
Me: What? What’s happening?
My Kid: UGH, that was the best part. You ruined it.
Me: What are you talking about? I don’t hear anything.
My Kid: They’re called Mute. I played them for you in the car. Remember?
Me: {blank stare}
My Kid: Nevermind. I’ll be right down.
this was also an episode of pete & pete.
I’ve been trying to remember a single verse of an untraceable song all week and to my complete frustration I couldn’t recall the name of the song, the band, or even a single lyric. All I knew was the way I felt when I heard it and how it made me want to dance and yell and clap and fight. In other words, it felt good and wanted to feel it over and over again.
But I had no leads, not one.
And it was time to let it go.
But then I remembered again!
And it was as good as ever.
Song: We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed
Artist: Los Campesinos!
Verse: Oh, we kid ourselves there’s future in the fucking, but there is no fucking future.
from ear to ear.
- 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.
one scoop of lubey lube in a cone, please.
While asking a co-worker about the logistics of owning a car:
Co-Worker: And then sometimes you have to take it to Lubey Lube.
Me: Lubey Lube? Really?
Co-Worker: Yeah, to get an oil change.
Me: In Indiana it’s called Jiffy Lube.
Co-Worker: That’s it! But Lubey Lube would be a great flavor for your ice cream store.
Me: Uhhh . . . I don’t think people like to eat lube.
totally wow’d in the windy city.
Lollapalooza. Chicago, IL
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Back in college, my friend Ezra and his Tufts-based rockband released a CD that could be purchased (with money! through iTunes!) and played at various on-campus coffee shops. I was completely floored and thought that this was one of the most unbelievable / awesome / I knew him when moments of my life. Last Friday, however, I flew to Chicago to visit some really great friends and to see Ezra Furman and the Harpoons perform at Lollapalooza and then later at the House of Blues. Yeah . . . not to make my college self feel like a lesser than peon or anything, but I think now is a more appropriate time to say I knew him when.
I . KNEW . HIM . WHEN
Oh! After Ezra’s 11:45am performance on Lollapalooza’s Playstation Stage, I crossed over to the Budweiser Stage and got to catch a FANTASTIC performance by Delta Spirit. Their music was a superb hybrid of Americana rock and northern soul and I didn’t stop dancing once. Needless to say, I zeroed in on Delta Spirit’s charming and charismatic lead singer Matt Vasquez and wondered if it was possible to get him and his lovely blue-toned flannel button-up to run away with me. This loosely-based / from a distance / not so serious / you’re famous and I’m not tween crush got a heavy dose of up close and personal when Matt came to see the Harpoons at the House of Blues on Saturday night. I somehow avoided my usual celebrity sighting stutters, mumbles, and all-around un-awesomeness and instead miraculously maintained a socially acceptable level of subject verb agreement.
IT . WAS . AWESOME
All in all, it was a mind-blowingly wonderful weekend and I feel so lucky to know people who can not only articulate their priorities and passions, but then go out and pursue them. Okay, Amy. Stop blubbering! It’s time to get organized and serious[ly obsessed] with the impossible apartment search to end all impossible apartment searches. Stay tuned . . .
today’s nyc life tests = math + moving.
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.
weiners and role models.
- Weiner Dog. Luckyduct, Etsy
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Yesterday, ilikeyoulikeyou received it’s very first email! Aww. . .
Actually, it came from my friend Rachel Pfeffer who I was beyond lucky to have lived with during my junior year of college. Back then, she was a fantastically gifted artist whose pieces and installations left our campus giddy and glowing. As it turns out, not one bit of that has changed and she’s still leaving trails awesome everywhere she goes. One visit to her Etsy shop luckyduct or her blog cut paste repeat, and an 8 hour staring contest with my work computer is suddenly turned into a coolkid adventure on the wild and crazy internet. Uhhhmazing!
Clearly, Rachel has zero fear of pursuing any and all things that excite her (true story: she opened up her own ice cream store during the summer between her freshman and sophomore year of college) and she is still my don’tworry+lovelife+justmakeart role model. Maybe she would want to help me brainstorm business plans for Penny’s (aka my latest and greatest totally insane pipe dream). Hmmm . . .
big ups, big sur.
Esalen Institute. Big Sur, CA
I went.
I welded.
I wanna go back.
waaaaah.
1000+ smash hits.
- To Cool. Cakewrecks, The Internet.
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Today, ilikeyoulikeyou welcomed its 1000th smash hit. In order to celebrate properly I think I shall take a week-long vacation to my favorite spa/cult in the whole wide world . . . tomorrow!
Peace out, girl scouts.
Amy
the ten day takedown.
- 10036 vs Big Sur. Weather.com
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A fight between my upcoming vacation to Big Sur and nine to fiving in 10036 would be unfair, to say the least.
but i’m not the only one.
- 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.
right on time for my quarter-life crisis.
- Better History. New York, NY
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I’m working on it 10th Ave, I’m working on it.
the high line is my drug of choice.
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.
overheardonmylunchbreak.com
- Guy with a Bike + Wizard. New York, NY
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Guy with a Bike:..So how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?
Wizard:..I am . . . fooooour thooooousand years old.
my friend’s band is the new madonna.
Once upon a Time Out New York, my friend Joanna told me that her friends in high school used to force each other to come up with fake [yet totally awesome] band names on the spot. Though this seemed like quite possibly the most incredible game [ever], I quickly realized I wasn’t very good at it. My attempts at playing usually went something like this:
Blue Shoes!
3 by 5 Index Cards!
Little Man!
Basically, I just identified whatever was in the room. A total boner killer of a strategy and definitely not the stuff great band names are made of. Over this past weekend, however, I think I completely redeemed myself with this one:
My Friend’s Band!
Everyone was very pleased with the possibilities for awesomness in a name like My Friend’s Band and we even started assigning instruments and odd jobs like Lead Kazoo Player and Band Therapist. Take that, super cool game I used to suck at! Okay, I’m gonna go blast some of My Friend’s Band’s Greatest Hits and try to start an office coup slash dance party. Laterz.
dance like you’re the shit and everyone is watching.
Dear whomever came up with those awful life affirmations for women,
I do NOT want to dance like no one is watching. How can I possibly prove I’m totally awesome and the MVP of sexy dancing if no one is watching?
If you friend me, you’re getting limited profiled.
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[not] Sorry,
Amy
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PS: Your weenis is showing.
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’}
awesome, at the very least.
- Almost Fearless. New York, NY
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I wonder what life would be like if we all dated fearlessly . . .
shit.
- 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.