Adventures in My Space

Spying on Myspace users?
Originally uploaded by Lorri37.

Given that I have some free time on my hands, I've had more time to explore this thing called My Space. Like Friendster, I got on it to be like everyone else, but once you look past the cursory, trite profiles, there is much to be discovered.

My hometown, Norwalk, CT, has a profile. Norwalk seems to have gotten a little jaded in its old age. Ha.

Last night I also added Teen Wolf as a contact. He's so going into my Top 8, especially now that I know how to change it around.

.

Speaking of, why is it that every third profile I stumble across has that Gnarls Barkley song on it? I realize that "Crazy" is quite the summer hit, but there is other music is the world. Then again, it could be worse. It could be anything by Nick Lachey.

Another hidden treasure of My Space is accidently finding photos of old beaus. Not profiles, just shots of them in groups with other people. It's all the more wonderful when you see that, at the age of 29, they're losing all their hair. Karma can be such the boomerang.

Along those lines: Am I the only one who has had to block people from my Flickr account? This has happened at least twice this summer. People have added me as a contact and when I went to check out their photos, all they had posted were shots of naked women. Porn, basically.

Now, I'm not Dr. Phil, but if you're a guy and if you want to impress a lady, or at least be given casual access to her snapshots, don't you think it would be a bad idea to post stolen photos of porn stars on your Flickr account? I'm just saying...

That's all for now. I'm going to hide from the heat.

Time For Some Cat Photos!

What is a blog without some cat photos? I have two awesome cats, Maestro and Mozart, so it's time they got some airplay.

Here They Are, Cold Lampin' Together


Mozart Is Slightly Older, And the Brains of the Operation. Here He is With Maestro Tail Shoved in His Face.


Maestro, Oblivious to Any Wrong Doing


When It's 90 Degrees Outside, Fluffy Cats Just Long For Winter

Links on Friday

夏だ！スイカだ！
Originally uploaded by anzyAprico.

It's Friday, it's summer and I've already chased out to Greenwich for the weekend. I need to get some writing done and, naturally, spend some quality time with Maestro and Mozart. In the summer I hate the Gramercy Bunker. It's hot and muggy inside and if I turn on the air it gets cold and dries my eyes out and then my contacts won't go in. Not a good scene.



As some of my friends know, today I was supposed to go up to a vocal audition in the Bronx for a potential trio act. Some work constraints forced me to reschedule. Of course, an audition is just that, a try out, which means no guarantees. Deciding to go, though, brought up the issue that now that I have free time and little to no responsibilities, so it might be a good time to focus on music and performing again. I haven't done anything in over a year since South Pacific wrapped up, so why not?

If anyone was wondering:
I'm a mezzo soprano
I can belt up to a G (That's as good as it gets...for now.)
I read music and can play basic guitar. (If you're looking for the second coming of Hendrix, please look elsewhere.)
When I went on that tour of Bulgaria in 2002 with my choral group, we were huge in Plovdiv.

So here are some good links for you to enjoy:

Fashion Tribes: I used to write for Fashion Tribes when it first started. I liked the new bloggy style of it now. You should, too.

This The Slug, a blog my friend Derrick writes. It is quite good.

Back soon.

Do You Think I'm Dry?

Nomad's Return
Originally uploaded by More Altitude.

I was told twice today that my writing is "dry." I do not agree with that sentiment at all. I think my writing is lush and funny. Granted I don't write like I speak, (Thank goodness. Who wants to read stuttering?) nor do I write like a spastic eighth grader. That is why I am writer and I have been paid to write for my entire professional life. I have been complimented on my "voice" many times.

So, uh, I didn't appreciate being called "dry." Simply because it's not true.

Also: I was also asked today, by two different people, if I was one of those talking heads on those assorted entertainment shows. One gal swore she saw me on Extra, while another thought she had seen me on VH1. I thought that was just crazy talk, but maybe you guys know better....do I have doppelganger?

By the way, if anyone would like me to be a talking head, I can talk [shite] about a lot of things. Bring it.

I'm Still Here...

sunflowers
Originally uploaded by ko-knia.

I need to find a happy medium between getting the blog done and getting the work done. I feel as if you, dear readers, are getting the short shift. And that's just not cool.

An update: I'm working at a magazine and getting more than my daily allottment of celebrity ooze. It's good times. I write and research and try to come up with story ideas.

This weekend: I went out to Greenwich to see Le Doug. On Sunday Doug, my cousin and my uncle and I all went out on my uncle's boat. It wasn't the best day for a sail and we barely got above 12 knots. But it was still good times. I really like being out on the boat, even if I'm just there for decoration and don't know anything about rigging jibs and the like.

After the boat Doug and I met up with even more members of Clan Millard for a quickie concert at the Greenwich beach. Basically, it was a Jimmy Buffet cover band made up of four, 40-something guys in Hawaiian shirts. The guitarist was quite good as was the bassist. The vocalist, however, could have used a little work. But still good times. I hear they do weddings and Bar Mitzvahs.

Next thing I knew it was Monday, and I was on the train once again to civilization. Work definitely beats sitting around and doing nothing.


Goodness, I'm tired. Sorry if this was not only late, but dull.

Coming Up For Air

Just when I was getting reacclimated to being in NYC, sleeping with the AC on full blast and walking in flats as opposed to heels, I fled back to the country today. It's really nice out and later on I think I'll run. I've been so busy this week I hardly had any time to exercise. I taught class on Wednesday night and then on Thursday night I had dinner with The Ladies. By Friday, I was pooped.

Here is the outfit I wore on my first day at the newish gig. Check out those gams!


The Ladies and I went to Zocalo on 82nd Street. I highly recommend it. I had a chicken enchilada that didn't make me feel as if I would have a coronary after dessert. Speaking of dessert, we went a few blocks over to DTUT for coffee talk.



See, coffee and a zebra bar, perfect for late-night kvetching. In case you were wondering, a zebra bar consists of a brownie underneath a bit of cheesecake. So if the enchilada didn't do me in, the dessert sure could.

Allison ponders the topic: The Holy Roman Empire was Neither Holy, Nor an Empire. Discuss.


It's afternoon which means that it's nap time for both Le Doug and The Boys. I'm always way too caffeinated to sleep during the day. Now would be a good time to sneak the Beamer out for a joy ride. Think I won't?

Miss Me?

I'm pretty busy now but I figured I'd drop in before everyone gets bored of this blog and stops logging in all together. This weekend I'll have a better update and maybe even a few photos, but for now, this is the best I can do.

I had a column in The Simon yesterday. It's short but you might like it.

Talk soon!

Back to Reality

Comfortable*
Originally uploaded by imapix.

I never went to camp, but today at the house feels like the last day of camp. After a month and half of loafing around Old Greenwich, it’s time for me to clean out my bunk, somewhat, and get ready to go back to reality, reality being NYC on a day to day basis.

A Few Things I Will Miss:

Being Doug’s Pseudo-Room Mate
I have the Gramercy Bunker until June 2007, when my lease runs out. After that I will most likely flee to Nolita, as I feel I should have long ago. But leases are legal documents and breaking such a document will send you more bad real estate karma than you will know what to do with. As much as I love New York, I still liked kicking around Le Doug’s house, making sure the cats were fed and that there were ice cubes in their water dishes to keep them cool.

I’m terribly sloppy, so much so that Doug, upon staring at a pile of clothes in the middle of his bedroom said, “Pauline, I don’t understand. Women are supposed to be neat.” Yet every article of clothing I had worn over the course of the week was on the floor and my sweaty jogging clothes hung off the door knob to his room.

I made it up to him, though. I learned quick tricks to make a place look cleaner than it really is: Put all empty cans and bottles in the recycling bin, and keep that in the garage. Put dirty clothes in hamper, and fold them immediately after drying. Dishes should be put in the dishwasher, even if you don’t run it for a week. Messy counters make even a nice house look like a frat house, and no one wants that. Never underestimate the magic of a Swiffer.

Not Wearing Pants:
When you’re hanging out at the house writing or watching marathon re-runs of Law and Order, why on earth would you wear pants? It’s summer! I’ve gotten really used to wandering around in my underwear, so much so that I have to stop and make sure I’m fully dressed before I check the mail or go out onto the deck. Now, not only do I have to wear pants, but I have to blow out my hair everyday and look like a human being. Could be a tricky transition.

The Boys: Maestro and Mozart
Some people see cats as just that: Four legged furballs who sleep 18 hours a day and pee in a box full of sand. For me, Maestro and Mozart were constant company, and if I couldn’t find them sleeping on top of the dining room table or chasing their tail in the TV room, I worried like a young mother looking for her kid on a crowded playground. They roused me from sleep in the morning meowing for food. They sat next to me in the windowsill as I answered e-mailed. Now, they are practically melting under their enormous fur coats. If only they liked cold showers.

Sleep. Sweet, Sweet Sleep
I’m sometimes amazed at how I can sleep like a rock. While out in Connecticut I could wake up at 6:30 AM, make Doug some coffee, sit with him and chat while he read the newspaper until he left to catch the train. Then I would climb right back into bed and sleep until 10:30 AM, despite the construction going on next door and the sunlight pouring in through the windows. Getting up shortly before noon is rather undergraduate of me, and it sure felt good.

But now: Real world.


Don't forget to write! BFF!

Hot Enough For Ya?

This heat wave is a little much, even by my standards. Last night I went out for a run and I literally felt like I was running through a soup. And I will run in any kind of heat. This bit warmth though...not so much.

I join the working world again in a few days, but not bfeore I tie up a few of my own projects. Of course, distractions reared their head. La Madre called me in the morning to see if I would go with her up to the Trumbull mall so she could pay her her JC Penney charge card. See, my mom does not pay bills online or even by mailing a check. She physically walks over to the store or business in question and hands them a check. Yes, it's pretty old world. But yet everyone in tonw knows her...

I hopped in the car with her and drove up. At JC Penney she handed the custmer service gal a check for, I'm not kidding here, $14.98. I asked my mom if that was her minimum payment. She said no, that was how much she bought last month at JC Penney, and she was paying off her balance. Riiiight. And we drove half an hour for that? I had a few stamps in my wallet that would have done the job just as well.

I wandered over to the girls' department and saw this little bag. For $8, I had to take it home with me.



Nice detail, eh?


OK, but here's where things get weird. In the girls' department at JC Penney I saw something called Girls Plus. What on earth could that be? I wandered into the racks and saw that JC Penney has a line of plus-sized clothing for girls. Like, school aged girls. Then I thought a really mean thought: If your school-aged daughter needs plus-sized clothes, isn't that a sign that maybe, as a parent, one shouold intervene? Maybe ix-nay the sugary snacks and lethargy?

Or, is it a more disturbing sign of the national trend of childhood obesity that JC Penney can sustain such a line of clothing.

I don't know. But at least I got a nice purse.

A 70th and 75th Birthday

Technically I should be out on a sail right now, but I was left ashore like a forgetten piece of luggage. So here are some photos from last night, which was a 70th and 75th birthday party for an aunt and uncle who are very young at heart.

We Clean Up Well: Me, Rob, La Madre and Andrew


World Cup Talk Goes on Long After the Final Penalty Kick


Inside the Tent


Swing Bands Rock


La Madre Dances With Le Doug


Everyone Dances!


Rob and I


My Cousin Jennifer and I


The next day we all nursed hangovers at the brunch, where I took no photos. I was too distracted by all the chow.

Yawn.

It's hot and humid and I'm doing very little today before the fancy party tonight. I'm getting my hair blown out at 4:30 PM, and eventually my brothers will trickle on over to Le Doug's.

Sure, I'll take some photos tonight, if you insist.

Friday...

Quack Addict
Originally uploaded by nishiology.

There is no water in my apartment building today, so I am out in the country hanging out. Honestly, no water? What am I paying all that money for every month?

I was in NYC yesterday cleaning out the place. I'm not moving or anything, I'm just trying to change it up. I've had the Gramercy Bunker for three years, and parts of it have never changed at all. It's time for new energy and new karma. Yesterday I took a duffel bag full of old books to The Strand and got $65 for them! Then I filled gabage bags full of crap and left more old books out for the tenants to take, The closet is going to be quite an undertaking, but my rule is that if I haven't worn it in a year, it's going out. I'll post photos once the place is perfect.

In other news, I've been running a lot lately which makes me sleep like a rock every night. I'm also reading an insanely funny book. It's Jancee Dunn's, "But Enough About Me..." She's a writer for Rolling Stone, former MTV VJ and tells the funniest stories about dealing with celebrities, among ohers. Yes, I realize it came out a few months ago but I only found it yesterday, I'll probably be finished tonight.

This weekend: Fancy family party! Next week: Newish gig begins.

No Autographs, Please

I decided to try My Heritage Face Recognition to see which celebs a computer thinks I look like.

I put in this photo, taken on July 1:


I was told that I look like:
Kate Winslet
Sarah Silverman
Alyssa Milano
Bette Davis
Chloe Sevingy
Rachel Lee Cook
Pam Anderson. (Maybe they were referring to my award-winning rack. But unlike Ms. Anderson, mine are real. Shazam!)

Then I put in this slightly more minimilistic photo, taken in early May:


I was told I look like:
Chloe Sevingy (again)
Jean Harlow
Ashley Olsen (?)
Chaka Khan (Um, wrong race.)
Johnny Depp (Um, wrong gender)
Amanda Peet
Cindy Crawford
Katie Holmes

Field Trip! The Bush-Holley House

It seems my newish gig doesn't start until next Wednesday, so I still have a few days to kill here in Greenwich. Yesterday I shopped on the Greenwich Avenue and got some great things. I don't want to be one of those gals that just shops all the time, so today I went to the Bush-Holley Historic Site over in Cos Cob. They're not related to the current crop of Bushes in the White House, although the presidential Bushes do have strong roots in Greenwich. George W. was even born at Yale up in New Haven. You thought he was a Texan? Ha.

The Bush-Holley house was built in the early 1700s and has only housed three families before becoming a historic landmark. Given how many old homes are being torn down in Greenwich to build gross, hedge-fund fueled McMansions, it really is a rarity.

I wasn't allowed to take photos inside. Click the link above if you'd like to see some of the rooms. But here are a few:

The Visitors' Center


Old rock wall in front of the house


Period rocking chairs


The house has a second story balcony that used to overlook the river. Now you have a great view of the I-95. Here are come of the Candian geese that hang out by the water.


Next week: The Bruce Museum. Anyone want to tag along?

Sweaty Girl Fetish

At the BBQ on Saturday I told my friend Pat about how a page from this blog randomly ended up on a bulletin board for guys who like girls in glasses. It was random not only for the topic, but because I don't even wear glasses anymore. Anyone who stalks me on this blog would know that.

We started talking about random fetishes and Pat suggested I put up something totally random, just to see if there would be people who dug it.

I like to run a lot and this summer I've been doing it quite often, especially since I've been out in the 'burbs.

So for all you kooks out there who dig a girl after a good four-mile run, this one's for you.

Whew! Hottie!


That's Some Serious Perspiration

Back From the Weekend

I'm still out in Connecticut, enjoying a few more days in the country before starting a newish gig on Wednesday.

As much as I wanted to loaf around on Saturday, I motivated and got out to Brooklyn from CT for a little BBQ at Colleen's. She has an awesome apartment with a huge garden. It puts most people's apartments to shame. Shame!

See? It's huge!


I took the F train down to Brooklyn. Oh, 2nd Avenue, I've hardly seen you all summmer...


Colleen and I


Pat and Kristin, who have hosted many a party that I have enjoyed.


Colleen and Shazna. Smart, journo types.


Shiny, Happy People


Mmmmm...s'mores.


On Sunday Le Doug came back from his fishing trip, so I spent most of the day cleaning up the enormous mess I made of the house over the past two weeks. Then this morning I got scolded for leaving the car windows open, since it rained a little last night. Now I have to take the train over to the Greenwich Avenue this afternoon to go shopping. I've been banned from the Beamer. Le sigh....I nee a dress for a fancy family party this weekend. Youc an bet I will have loads of photos from that.

Paris HIlton and a Himalayan?

I was disturbed to see this post of Paris Hilton and a Himalayan kitten. As an owner of a Himalayan named Maestro, it pains me to think that such a sweet creature may end up in the hands of Ms. Hilton.

I'm Not Ignoring You

Yes, yes I'm around...yet weirdly busy. Last night Erin and I had dinner in Union Square. For dessert we made s'mores on the gimpiest open flame a restaurant could offer. It's as if the attorneys for Cosi sat around and said, "How can we offer the feel of making s'mores yet reduce our risk for flame-related injuries?"

The answer is Cosi s'mores. Good, in theory, lame in terms of fire power.

I got home late. During my absence one of the cats crapped on the kitchen floor. I realized this when I stepped into in barefeet. Aces.

Adventures in Driving

Lost in Tiorati
Originally uploaded by bikeracer.

While watching Le Doug's house and The Boys, I've fallen into an easy routine of sleeping late, hogging the bed, evening runs through Old Greenwich and drinking alone while writing late at night. In short, I could definitely get used to this. Sooner or later, though, I realized I would have to take care of some practical household matters, and thus my adventures yesterday began.

La Madre and I saw The Devil Wears Prada, and it was good fun. When I came home in the afternoon, Maestro and Mozart were nowhere to be found. I figured they were down in the basement. They weren't, but I did realized the cat boxes needed to be cleaned. I also decided I needed to change my clothes if I was going to deal with both a basement and cat excrement.

I opened the closet door to get out some play clothes and I found the two cats in the closet, staring up at me in bewilderment. They had been in there for no less than three hours, and hadn't even made a peep. Naturally I was concerned for their well being, but they were fine. They just walked over to their food dishes and munched away. Of similar importance was the state of Doug's dress shirts and good suits. Cat pee can be difficult to get out of an Ermenegildo Zegna getup.

I cleaned the cat boxes and saw we needed more litter. We also needed more rubber gloves, some cereal and I was in the mood for sushi. It wasn't raining, so I hopped in the car and headed up to the Food Emporium. First, I took a few backroads and ended up wandering around Riverside, another enclave of Greenwich. Along the way I saw some great houses, including the one that was used in the film The Family Stone. I wasn't even looking for it, but the minute I saw it I was like, "Hey! I know that house!"

I got up to the Food Emporium and managed to actually save some money in one of the most pricey grocery stores I've ever been in. It's all about buying storebrands, kids. I got my sushi and some fancy creme for my coffee, and I was off.

At least until the parking lot. That's where things got hairy. Le Doug gave me a copy of his car keys, but not the one that has the fancy key fob that automatically opens all the doors. Beamers have these electronic locks, except for on the drivers side. That part you can open with a key. I couldn't open any of the side doors or the trunk. I basically had to toss the groceries through the driver's side and watch them spill out all over the floor of the car. And you people wonder why I don't drive.

In the confusion I left my wallet in the kiddie seat of the grocery cart. Yes, my wallet. The thing with all my cards and cash and train tickets in it, not to mention a disk with my resume and a couple of very important documents. I realized this about a quarter mile away from the store. I immediately swished the car around and raced back towards the post road. Not bad for a gal who has barely driven in seven years. They're not kidding when they call Beamers the Ultimate Driving Machines. The strange part is that the faster I went, the more control of the car I felt like I had. Isn't that strange?

Back on the Post Road I could literally see the cart in the parking lot and I could see the wallet sitting in it. Naturally, right outside the store, I got caught at the longest stop light in the history of time. I thought I was going to lose my mind. Once in the lot I pulled up right next to the cart and retrieved the wallet before some clerk rounded up all the carts. I breathed easy but I my heart was still racing. I clicked on the Herbie Hancock CD that I made Le Doug put in the changer (Head Hunters) and I grooved all the way home.

Back at home and after I enjoyed my sushi, I went for a run through Old Greenwich, all the way down to the Rocky Point Boat Club. I'm not even achey today. Aces.

The Holiday Weekend

4th Of July @ North East, MD
Originally uploaded by clawnscratch.

Despite having to work for a bit today, the Fourth of July has been a good time.

Saturday:
I had a revelation on Saturday: When one is 29 and otherwise a functioning member of society, it is a bit strange to not be able to drive. Old Skool Christine and I had a playdate set up at the Greenwich beach. On Saturday morning she told me her car was full, and I would have to meet her down there. In theory, this was not a strange request. There was a Beamer sitting in Doug's driveway and I had the keys to it. The beach stickers were outdated by a year, but I had guest passes and mail and my natural charms to get me pass the high school student who waves everyone through.

The thing is, I've barely driven in seven years. By barely, I mean that since 1999, I've driven a car once, for a week last July. Even when I did have a car, it was never for more than a month during breaks from college and even then I would back in poles and get speeding tickets. I do, however, have a valid Calfornia driver's license, at least until 2008.

I wanted to see Christine but I remembered Doug's warning about not driving his car. Nevertheless, I grabbed the keys, adjusted the driver's seat, put on the Belinda Carlisle CD and took off. I felt like I was 17 years old, driving for he first time in Marin County, convinced an 18 wheeler would plow over me.

It is literally a straight line from Doug's house to the beach, and I managed it well. The only time I got a little tense was when the road narrows right by Todd's Point and I had to fight for speace with SUVs. An SUV? In Old Greenwich? Why, people? Where do you plan to go off roading?

Thanks to some smooth talking I got into the beach, despite not have a 2006 sticker or a beach card. Christine and her friends were there and we sub bathed and chatted and all was mellow.

When I got home around 3:00 PM La Madre came by with my cousin, Frankie. Frankie is a little girl, and she's five and very much wanted to meet Maestro and Mozart. She played string with them until they hid under the bed. Then Frankie and I went to the park, got ice cream, and had some dinner on the back deck. Much root beer was consumed. Eventually I took her to the fireworks in Old Greenwich. I also bought her a little stuffed cat at the fireworks, which she named Maestro. I think I am now officially Cool Cousin Pauline. It's good to have fans that are five years old.

Sunday:
Jen invited up to her new place in Trumbull, and then to a BBQ her friend was hosting. I was all for it, except that Trumbull is quite far from Greenwich and there is no train. I decided not to push my luck with the driving, so La Ladre took me up. We checked out Jen's new house, which is great. Then we went over to her friend Shirley's house, for burgers and bratwurst and far too much Sangria.

I had to break up the party when my mom had to pick me up and get me back to Greenwich. I felt like I was 12. So, my new goal is to become a better driver, 12 years after I actually got my license.

Monday's Media News

The markets are open today, which is why I'm awake and behind a computer, as opposed to sleeping in the country with a pair of fluffy cats next to me. For the rest of you stuck in cubicle hell, I found some links, all media-related.

Gawker Media is making some changes. I'm pretty excited about the upcming music blog, since I love me some tunes.

A magazine aimed at children is accused of pushing careers in the army.

World Wrestling Entertainment plans a lifestyle magazine which will include a column called "Abuse."