Been a while...

I've been pretty busy. Work, as usual, has been keeping me occupied.

But all is different. The saviour is here

Yes, my French friend has been busy saving my English bacon and I am very grateful for it.

In other news I moved to Hoboken. Yes it's New Jersey, the cultural equivalent of Essex as I understand it, but my god it's got good views

I have a ton more on facebook if you're having a dull lunchbreak.

NJ has some funny sides. Strolling along the 'sophisticated left bank' as it was described we came across the Spam Van

What can you do.

Perhaps work will let up soon and then I'll have something interesting to post.

Speeding to Distraction

This weekend, I tried various methods for taking my mind off my work troubles. All failed.

On Friday night, I went out for a rooftop drink (or 5) and post-mortem with my colleagues. Along with the elevated stress levels were a unfeasible number of fireman drinking in almost every bar on 2nd Avenue, due to a wake.
Gentleman - if you want to become instantly irresistible to women, become a NY Fireman. I swear, they were fighting them off the whole evening. You could almost smell the pheromones in the air. Of course, there is the obvious downside that you'd regularly have to put yourself in mortal danger...

The next morning, I was relieved to find I wasn't suffering from a hangover, but instead I had four new mosquito bites on my leg. It seems the body always has to pay a price.

Next stop - spray tan. What a disaster. The women did a below average job and I decided to shower most of it off, because I was effectively imprisoned in my flat because I left tan wherever I went. Anyway, when I woke up this morning it still seemed to be there (including on the palms of my hands - great). Judge for yourself - sorry for the dodgy mirror photo
I was invited to a Giant's game on Saturday, but decided to pass based on my last baseball experience. Instead, I headed out solo into the big city.

I headed over to The Gramercy Tavern, as I remembered from last visit over seven years ago that it was an extremely pleasant place.
Despite arriving at 6, the place was already packed and I took a place at the bar and ordered a bite to eat.

My first conversation was with a charming wall street chap with impossibly white teeth, who was conspicuously waiting for his date to turn up. All the way through our conversation, his eyes nervously twitched towards the door, I imagine in fear of getting a roasting for chatting to another woman.
When she eventually turned up, I got the sense they were in very early days of dating and that she was a goldigger.

My next conversation was with a gentleman named Eli Escobar, who (according to his business card) is director of corporate operations for Gurhan He said I could check out the website, and that he'd be happy to do me a deal on anything I was interested in, but something tells me it's a little out of my price range.... We swapped reading recommendations over his martini before he headed off for the evening.

When he left, an attractive blonde women bagged his seat, and after a while I realised to my surprise that she was out alone. We struck up conversation and basically spent the evening drinking wine and chin-wagging. She was one of those impossibly intimidating career women who actually like going to the gym. She's relocating to NY and hence was at a bit of a loose end (as was I). We swapped contact details and agreed to meet up in future, and I wasn't at all surprised to find numerous hits when I googled her today - my new new york friend
At some of the part of the evening, one of her friends stopped off - a very sweet guy who turned out to be head of counter-terrorism for NYC and was off for a drill at Penn Station. As you do on Saturday night.

I then headed back to my flat and on the way back:
a) got invited by a band unloading their van to come and watch their performance for free... I took one look at the bar they were playing in and politely declined
b) narrowly missed getting into the US Open party at the W (dammit!!). I was in a convenience store and a guy who worked in the W was in the queue, and told me all about it. However, he was just getting off his shift and wasn't allowed to socialise there afterwards, but offered to get me in. I thought it seemed a bit rude and pushy so politely declined, although actually I really wanted to go.

So, all in all quite an eventful evening. And I got home alone and unscathed.

Urgh

I was right. It was an awful week, culminating with a giant arse-kicking on Friday. I expect the kickings to go on for at least another 2-3 days.

To try and take my mind off things, I decided to lose myself in the magic of the movies.... Just awful, one of the most dire films I've ever seen. It was meant to be a British 'comedy' but I didn't even crack a smile.

What's worse, is that while I sat contemplating the fact that I was wasting 2 hours of my life, the rest of the audience were in stitches. Freaks.
Plus the entire cast looked ugly and that guy in Trainspotting was in it with the most ridiculous accent ever. And that moron from the BT advert who now seems obligatory for any 'British humour' that might get exported.

The acting was forced and the plot lines predictable. Even the cast looked embarrassed.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.

My new 'top 5 worst films' list is now as follows:

1. Captain Corelli's Mandolin
2. The Forgotten
3. Planet of the Apes (2001)
4. Death at a Funeral
5. The End of the Affair (1999)

Saying that, I don't know how I can rate those and then also sit through the oddity I watched the other day. Clearly something that would have heavily influenced 'Kill Bill', I found myself drawn into 'Sister Street Fighter' - a 1974 Japanese martial arts film improbably screened at 10am on a Saturday morning. I decided to label it 'cult' which made it OK for me to watch something so bad.

It's basically your average story of a young woman who sets out to rescue her brother from a crime lord, via a series of badly choreographed fight scenes. After some appallingly dubbed and stilted dialogue, the mobster sets his gang onto her family, ensuring his evil do-ers wear Fred Flintstone dresses and white masks before ambushing them.
Inbetween there's lots more snarling, hand waving, flares, sunglasses and bad fights. Many people die horribly.
Cue ending set to Kill Bill-esque music.

Therapy of any kind

In reflection, I'm pretty sure last week was the one that will be shown to have built up to 'the week that was'. Oooh, too much conditional language.
Bets are on, but let's see what happens when I post next weekend.

Next week, I have a conference call with a board of directors to explain why the project I've taken over is going up the swanny. To be fair, it was heading that way before I came over, but they weren't entirely aware of that.

The situation is so nerve wracking it's almost laughable, but I'm trying to keep it in perspective. Nonetheless, I suffered a feverish and fitful sleep on Friday night.

Waking Saturday, I decided to go for a nice lunch followed by a stroll, and then do some work ready for Monday so I could settle my anxiety. That was the plan.

And before I post this photo, I'd like to thank Peter the Great and say, no, it's not a Carrie obsession. It's just too much free time at weekends in close proximity to nice shops. Oooops I did it again...

I started off, as planned, with a wonderful lunch in the Oyster Bar in Grand Central Station. More of an institution than a restaurant Wikipedia says...

I was served by a lovely Irish lady called Mary, who had moved from Ireland's West Coast nineteen years ago. Unlike the rather churlish Central American staff (I've realised - Central Americans just hate me), Mary was more than happy to help explain the menu, and just to give advice in general (Hell's Kitchen - apparently very nice these days and you can still pick up a bargain rental).

After a rather decadent lunch of Oysters and 'Scallop Panroast' (Scallops sauteed with celery salt, Worcestershire sauce, tomato, chili and LOTS of cream) I thought I better head off for a constitutional in order to avoid obesity. This was an invitation to danger...

Boys, look away now.

Hmmm. On second thoughts, you may want to take a look at the heels I purchased. And my Borders stash.

My first fall from grace occurred in Lederer, where I happened upon a faux-croc leather bag from a lovely WASPish lady who had botoxed the hell out of her upper lip. To be fair, I'd been looking for a new bag for a long, long time.

Floating on a credit card haze, I happened upon 'Links of London', and proceeded to inspect two lovely necklaces which turned out to be $995 and $1995 respectively. Instead, I went to a rip-off shop and purchased some similar necklaces for the princely sum of $50
The next stop was Stuart Wietzman. Now, I have to say this is genuinely exciting for me.
Remember the shiny red bag I treasured in Miami? [note to self - I only seem to be materialistic in America] And the matching heels I talked about but never wore?
They were both from SW via Russell & Bromley.
But then I found out that, here in NY, they have a DEDICATED STORE. Both times I've attempted to raid it, it's been closed,

Check out these babies (to go with the brown Roberto Cavalli dress)
As I tried them on, women were cooing over them as I attempted to stay upright. My god they're cool but they have two problems:
1) They're impossible to walk in
2) I'll be at least half a foot higher than the average male

But no matter. My helpful assistant was a man by the name of Ozzie Manrique, who informed the father and son owners were truly lovely people and had visited just this last week.

Next, I decided by new brown bag wouldn't go with black and that, more than anything, I wanted/needed a red bag as well.

I stopped off at "Bric's" where a lovely man named Renato Nieradka tried to assist me, unfortunately with no luck. Same was true for the slightly more downmarket 'Hides in Shape', where a charming Colombian named Max patiently let me try on every single red bag they produced.

Finally, I fell for Furla. And so we were united

and the shop assistant was an impossibly cool guy who went by the name of Herb Miller. Turns out he knew London, as he had lived in Kings Road and also Kensington back in 1979. When I asked what he was doing there, he explained he had been studying the UK punk movement. He stayed in squats with various bands, and lived off restaurant leftovers from friends with waiting jobs. Apparently, he is now a DJ and drummer in his spare time.

Nearing home and with weary arms, I stopped off at Borders. "Tales of the City" - highly recommended. As is anything by David Sedaris. And yes Peter, I do listen to your recommendations, as you can see

Finally, I stopped off at Grand Central Market for a filet mignon (fillet steak) and some baby arugula (rocket).

I've been chatting to Gianluca recently (of my Rome adventures) who is doing incredibly well for himself these days. Well done to him and may his film adventures come off. [Don't kill me Gianluca - I know you've done bigger things] Here he is on the 'delitti imperfetti' website ("Imperfect Crimes"). It's kind of like the Italian version of CSI. Third row down, third from the left Delitti Imperfetti Attori.

Oh, by the way, for non-Sungard people, Mikey is a fellow limey who works in pre-sales.

Lastly, for the bored, here is a wonderful clip from peep show. Watch from about 1:50 for Sophie's Birthday, Jeremy has slept with Sophie's Mother, and Mark is planning to break up with Sophie.

Here, it's 8pm on Sunday, and I have to start working on that document I promised to send out over the weekend...

Culture Vultures & Leapard Spots

I was in Starbucks this morning getting my fix whilst the greeter asked us how we were today. Overheard (loud) response:
"You figure it out. It's a FREAKIN' Monday!!"

I heart NY.

In other news, Mikey and I passed Sunday without drinking alcohol. Pick yourselves off the floor.

It was a day of tourist bliss. It started with a terrible brunch (chef's special sauce?!), and then made it's way into Central Park. The weather was just lovely. See how pretty the view was. Ahhhhhh...

I was having a wonderful time until we got to the zoo. Poo-ey!!! But no fear, something bigger, better and more tacky was waiting.

A horse and carriage you say?

No. It was a rowing boat. And I LOVED it (despite the subsequent sunburn).

I have to say, we were MUCH better than most people on the lake / algae-ridden scum waterway. Not that I'm competitive. Photo of Mikey rowing and then posing with Ghostbuster-esque architecture in the background:

Speaking of Ghostbusters, I've become addicted to Family Guy (I resisted for so long) - here's a cultural frame of reference to anyone my age with a younger brother Zool

Urghhhh. I promised Mikey I'd only post his photos if I posted one of me, so yuck here it is. Though truthfully, I was quite enjoying everyone thinking he was a chauvinist pig whilst I was actually enjoying the exercise.

Then we schlepped up to the Guggenheim - which luckily cost us nada. Thank the lord for my old JPM pass and the tipoff from Dean, working there was clearly worth something after all.

Ooooh see how post modern I am

and here is Mikey as art. I know it looks like Saturday Night Fever but it's in an Art Museum so it's ironic and don't you forget it.

Finally, we went to see The Bourne Ultimatum. Fantastic film, only slightly marred by the proximity to the screen. It was like Clockwork Orange optical torture. Couple that with it being set in two locations I'm extremely familiar with (Waterloo and midtown), and you've got a cerebral overload.

p.s. yesterday saw a stabbing two blocks from me, a random shooting and two executions. And they start spraying for Mosquitos tonight....

I'm suffocating...

Today nycgirl asks:
Will I ever actually get a night out?

The humidity is intense. The flooding immense. And I didn't even intend for that to rhyme.

It's taking me 2 hours to get to work each day anyway, without the freakin' trains shutting down and 104 degree heat on top of that. Bleeuurgh!

Well, take heart it's not just the UK that gets freak rainstorms and public transport that gives up at a moment's notice.

Whilst I was supposed to be concentrating on a conference call today, I started to compile a list of my favourite oxymorons:
Shakespearean Comedy
Fun Run
Project Plan (OK - technically a compound noun but you get my meaning)

By the way, Americans aren't familiar with these phrases:
Under the cosh
High jinks

Trust me - just direct someone to the internet. I made the mistake of trying to explain.

Oh - and foot and mouth again? How passé.

While my credit card gently weeps

OK, I couldn't help it anymore. Shopping called. You know, I'm not a material person generally, but something came over me... and it wasn't $2 to £1.
At the end of the day New Yorkers earn about twice as much as us anyway, so it's all relative.

It was a wonderful day. I stalked up 5th Avenue with my heart beating ever faster as I neared the diamond district. Luckily for me, nearly all of the units were closed on Sunday. Instead, here's a rundown of my purchases...

... Dolce & Gabbana, Roberto Cavalli (no - not cheap even with the exchange rate)

Murakami (my favourite novel of all time - Norweigan Wood) & David Sedaris. One of these is a gift - does that make it OK?
Old faithful Banana Republic - one question though. If I take shirts in 'small' size here, what does that mean for flat chested girls?

More excuses to stay in and waste my time (yes, I do know a cheat to play region zeros back home).

Can I get away with big sunglasses? Let's hope so...

Finally, probably my favourite purchase. Who could have known a lizard could make such a good wallet?

By the way, I spent the whole day looking for a replacement handbag seeing as my beloved vintage Gucci bag has got too vintage. After hating everything I saw, I finally found one I truly loved at Bottega Veneta. Imagine my shock when they told me the price. $16,500. Yep - you heard right. I almost screamed - you could buy an apartment in Argentina for that price. Don't worry, I didn't go for it.

Anyway, back to Mr Lovely Lizard:

You're out of touch

I have to learn how to use money. American money is, I swear, designed to confuse the tourist.

Firstly, the coins aren't easily identifiable. And even if you inspect them, they say things like 'nickel' and 'dime'. I mean, what is that in numerical terms? Please tell me.

The notes are worse. Just bunches of green pieces of samey-looking paper with odd drawings.

Paying has become a stressful experience. I'd sum this up in Starbucks on Friday morning, near my office. I was queuing up with about (literally) 12 other Manhattanites, with my 3.75 all figured out and ready to pay (three quarter dollars. Even I could work that out). Problem was, I assumed they'd included tax.

When I eventually came to pay, it turned out the bill was 4.06. I mean, I don't even know what you call a '5' and a '1', let alone how they look. Panicking, I handed over bills to the cashier.
Cashier [camply] "But you've got change!"
Me [unconvincingly] "No I don't."
Cashier "Look - I can see it in your purse"
Me [shame creeping up like a rash, hesitantly] "I don't know which coins are which"
Cashier [patronisingly] "Give your purse to me. See - you want the one with Lincoln memorial."
Me [Skulks off. As if I even know what the Lincoln memorial looks like]

The humiliation was complete when my coffee turned up first because I had ordered a normal (i.e not low fat) latte. I enquired of the other 12 people waiting if it belonged to them (such was my surprise it came to quickly), but instead they simply shook their heads in horror and looked disgusted as I ran away with my big fat lard ass coffee.

Humiliation complete.

In da hood

Check out the mean streets.

The scary train station at the end of my street...












... which includes the nasty old food market where I get my fresh seafood and fancy salads....


... the hideous Chrysler building seen from my roof terrace...

... with it's terrifying gargoyles...
















... and at night there's nothing to see.

Fairytale of New York

I enjoyed a fairly pleasant week, apart from getting my bloody blackberry nicked last Sunday.
In retrospect, I think it happened outside Century 21 in the afternoon. I had just taken a call (and let's face it - my blackberry WAS conspicuous being like a giant calculator) and then I put it back my open bag while I faffed with my iPod whilst people were jostling around me. Not the most streetwise.

Could have been worse I suppose. Problem is, I am now paranoid and when out in public I skulk in corners like a watchful Nosferatu, whilst clutching my bag like a mad woman.

Anyway, to recap, I accompanied Dean to Yifhat's husband's soiree at their beautiful apartment building - couple of dull photos included that don't really do it justice.

Yet again, work got in the way of fun this week. But I still managed to have a nice time. Sushi with Eran on Wednesday and a riverside meal with Paul Clapis on Thursday (table thoughtfully booked with a fantastic view of Manhattan).

Friday evening was relatively large - posh Mexican food, rooftop bars (until the giant thunderstorm) and tequila slammers. I really suffered for it on Saturday.

Luckily I had the entire Season 2 box set of rescue me to keep me company, to which I confess I am heavily addicted.

Weather Saturday and Sunday was just beautiful.

The perfect NY Saturday

Finally, after a gruelling week I got to relax.

I met Dean for a calorific brunch, had a horrifically overpriced facial from 'Cookie' at Spa Butterfly, and then Dean & I wandered over to MOMA http://moma.org/

I then let my credit card take a serious beating. One digital camera, Sephora visit, Virgin Megasgtore shop and Mexican take out later, I made my way home.

Tomorrow - Yifhat's husband's rooftop party.

Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you

Those of you who have tormented me over my fear of mosquitos (you know who you are), may I take the opportunity to show you why.

Yes, the mosquitos flew up to the 45th floor turned me into a leper. This is just my arm. The little bastards also attacked my face and legs.