A New York Minute

I would like to journal. I don’t. I New York Minute and you can too.
Here’s this week in bullet points:
  • This week was for friendsies:
    • I met up with a party of my favorite party/do-nothing/do-everything people to brunch in laund at Benchmark off 5th Avenue in Park Slope.
    • I brunched upon marvelous brunch with good company in pure delight
    • I walked through the Ghet-to to get there
    • When one walks through the ghetto a 25 minute walk can quickly become a 45 minute walk because you have to run in the wrong direction away from rats and kick cans because that’s what Pippi Longstocking would do. WWPLD? Ask….
    • I meandered through BK town “thrifting” with my posse as a result
    • I purchased two truly awful, clunky and colorful vintage pins which I am in love with and insanely proud of
    • I had a great time watching Tess try to get out of a very awkward situation involving three sterling silver rings and four dollar bills with a card table wielding gentleman.
    • I openly mocked Jenny and Tess, freely using a faux pas word to describe their behavior, as they sat on a minibench they found in front of a garden supply on our ambling adventure

  • I had a truly embarrassing moment, doubled because it was shared with a stranger on the F train from Manhattan. I could tell you about it but then I would have to kill you.
  • Said stranger and I are now spending a fair amount of time together
  • I had a delicious late in to the night conversation with Brittany Warnock of grief and high delight fame
  • I had a truly sad and torturous (for me) funeral for Good Golly Miss Molly, the first casualty of hurricane Irene
  • I cried
  • I vowed in grand fashion to never eat poultry again
  • I had dinner after the private wake at Cafe Lulu — where Sam ate chicken right in front of my tear-stained face
  • Maybe it looked kind of delicious — loyalty FAIL!
  • I joined a bunch of friends from another life for my friend Mike’s book signing at Bergen Street Comics
  • I welcomed the Duchess (after a full month-long sabbatical in Virginia), Ashleycat, Miss Rachel and Nichole for a girl night of gab and gossip at the penthouse at 302 Court
  • I had my locks bleached/dyed and chopped ala The Duchess’ mad skillz
  • I had a late in to the night conversation with Seattle
  • I realized I need to put a night cap on these late-in-to-the-night phone marathons…
  • I bought some eye cream
  • I spent Hoverboard money on a plane ticket to Hawaii by way of Seattle
  • I gave in and decided to use a travel agent because my itty bitty brain was going to burst trying to figure out the damn thing online
  • Prior to going to the travel agency (I could have called, but where is the fun in that??) I donned a gigantic wide brimmed hat and my polka dot dress. I assume that’s what people wear to a travel agency, right??
  • I was teased ruthlessly about using a travel agency. John told me frequently while deciding this decision that they are only used by “WIMPS WHO WEAR BEEHIVES” — implying that only a woman would use said service and that that woman  would be a dame from the 1950s.
  • I replied that he was obviously two dates shy of a hate crime and that given Amy Winehouse’s untimely death it was just too soon to mock particular hairstyles.
  • I handed my credit card to the nice lady at said travel agency.
  • I had a moment of silence for all the experiences I’m allowed because LBH this plane ticket cost about as much as it costs to raise an American child from diapers to diploma.  I have not yet elected to procreate so I go to Hawaii. That’s math.
  • My wonderful and loved phone started to spazz out while sitting across the room, scrolling like a mad crazed cat with a lazer light. It would then call anyone’s number it landed on
  • My phone’s drunk dials had no discernment for race, creed, relationship status. It had no problem dialing digits with a ‘Do not Pick UP!’ label upon said number
  • It started deleting texts
  • I failed to get a 911 type text from one of my health coaching clients
  • I realized that my poor phone needed to be taken out behind the barn Old Yeller style.
  • I came close to crying
  • I bought a new phone. Its photos so far fail to capture the very essence of your soul as my other camera phone did. It cost hundreds of dollars.
  • My bank account died
  • I used a half a gigantic bottle of Jamaican rum to make this cake:

    Yes it  has gold stars on it.
  • It was well received.
  • I ate six different kinds of meat as made by Tim grill-master-of-anything-that-has-a-flank Hanna
  • I gifted a beer bottle opener ring – the gift that no guy ever has to have explained to him
  • I had a very enjoyable conversation about marine biology, growing up in Hawaii and sex education with frisbee playing strangers in the backyard
  • I hosted a 3am listening party – just. like. the. good. old. days. We lounged to Sigur Rós
  • I learned how to make an accented ó on my keyboard or should I say ón my keybóard – a skill that I now hóld dear
  • I created a new and colorful thing called ‘Refrigerator Salad’
  • I got in an On-like-Donkey-Kong  fight with a cab driver.
    “I’m confused. You just took me ten minutes in the wrong direction up to Brooklyn Heights off Tillary to bring me back to State Street? I walk to State Street from my house.” I said it in my ‘calm reporter Amber’ voice.
    He turned and barked
    –“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU TALKING ‘BOUT!” I DRIVE THE CAB YOU SIT IN THE CAB!
    “um… I think if you drive for ten minutes left and then drive for ten minutes right, bringing me to a street I walk to from my home where I have lived for five years….. ,” I mumbled in small Amber-child in the dark voice.
    –“WHY YOU COMPLAIN?!!?? YOU KNOW SO MUCH – YOU DRIVE CAB?? NO!” I was cut off verbally while Amir, the meanest man in a yellow car in Brooklyn simultaneously cut off an unmarked car with five policemen in it. ‘KARMA!’ – I thought.
    They smiled and waved at him, sharing cheese cake from a red striped box in a rather unsightly fashion.
    I decided only I could protect the innocent – me.
    “YOU JUST TAKE ME WHERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TAKE ME AND I WILL PAY YOU. THAT IS HOW THIS WORKS!!” I hollered in my bitchtastic teenage Amber angst voice
    –“YOU THINK YOU KNOW SO MUCH BUT YOU DO NOT!” Amir wailed (I raised an eyebrow – realizing this man in white might be the reincarnation of my tenth grade English teacher, Mrs. Graham)
    “YOU SHUT UP AND TAKE ME TO FORTE GREEN!” growing up in the nursery with my brother and sister we would recite ‘The Parent Trap’ word for word in its entirety as an alternative for going to sleep. This was done in the same voice you might say “YOU SHUT UP AND GET MY MY BOOTS!” while hurling camp supplies at a man’s head.
  • I arrived at Forte Green Place
  • I tipped Amir a dollar fifty
  • Amir said “Thank you, Miss – You are very pretty” to which I responded
  • “Bye. Have a nice day”
  • –“Oh you too, Miss. You too.” — no hint of sarcasm. Umhum…
  • Gawd, I love Brooklyn
  • I watched a stuffed kitchen full of people create a delicious dinner of linguini and such to dress it up fancy dinner party style
  • I experienced a home without air conditioning piping through the rafters for more than five hours…
  • I am a fighter.
  • I laughed and laughed and had fun with people I don’t normally hang out with at said dinner party
  • Someone asked,  “Should ‘throw out this container of melted ice?” to which I said, “you mean water?” Haahahahahaha Haahahahah
  • I was adored despite my annoying need to have exorbitant amount of laughter while eating
  • I had a heart to heart with a boy with blue eyes
  • I was read all of this awesome book aloud with VOICES:

    Which for some reason unbeknownst to me, was never read to me as a child, even though my parents made sure I could quote The Leatherstocking tales before I turned nine….
  • Most importantly thanks to Incredimombo and Brittany Warnock I discovered Pinterest:
    http://pinterest.com/amberalvarez/
  • Maybe I hummed “For Good” from Wicked to the my pinterest site all. week. long.
  • Also I made this button:

    ———————————————————————
  • Watching: Scrubs from season 1, Wacom’s Inkling Video on loop until I can buy one when they go live
  • Reading: Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
  • Listening to: LCD Soundsystem
  • Drawing: Not.
  • Eating: Brisket from Tim’s BBQ
  • Learning: Italian
  • Coveting: this bike in red
  • Saving for: a Cintiq and an Inkling
  • Quoting:  “All real works of art look as though they were done in joy.” –Robert Henri

Categories: A New York Minute

3 replies »

  1. I cannot compete with your fab NY life 😉 Did post the button on my blog for you tho'…So far still have managed to resist the lure of the latest time sucker known as Pinterest. We'll see how long I can hold out.

  2. this is, admittedly, a lot to respond to, so I will respond only to the bullet about having an awkward moment on the f-train. I will respond by telling an embarrassing story about James:

    When we first moved to New York, we were idiots and would ride out to the airport to drop off friends when they visited, instead of just looking up and saying, “so long” when they walked out the door like we do now). We were on such a trip, early in the am, and james, standing, lost his balance and fell into the lap of a strange man. Not just kind of bumped him, but fell, and sat in this man's lap, like he was asking Santa for a new red rider bebe gun. The man, who had been asleep, woke up to find James sitting squarely on him, looked confused, and then, unsurprisingly, put out, as James clamored to regain his equilibrium. It was great.

    I have, however, no story to match your Amir the cab driver story. That's fantastic.

  3. Karin, thanks! I'm afraid I scared all my fans away with this epic post, but it happened and that's facts.

    Valerie… That is a strangely similar story. Tell James he has good company on Court and Degraw.

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