That Awkward Moment…when I decided to see a Zac Efron movie and got lost getting there

that_awk“So…”(nothing good comes after that word according to Zefron in “That Awkward Moment,” but this is actually good – good in a “so bad it’s good” way.) This is how I spent my Sunday… I warn you, this is a really boring story.

My cousin, Lady C, visited from DC this weekend and she wanted to get some knock-off jewelry in China Town, so we decided to take the bus down. In my defense, I never go to China Town or take the bus…but that’s still not really an excuse for how the day progressed. What does this have to do with Zac Efron’s new movie? I’ll get there, but in keeping with the theme of my story, I’ll take a really roundabout way that wastes everyone’s time.

We did not find this

We did not find this

So…we took the bus down to some location in China Town and searched for street vendors. All we really found after an hour of wandering were fish stands and an indoor mall that offered nothing but math tutoring and jade (that’s not a racist joke. That’s literally all they had). So…we decided to head home. Lady C didn’t have a metro card so we got $2.50 in change from the pocket of a very nice Vietnamese woman and waited for the bus.

We did find this

We did find this

We got on bus #1 only to find that it was the express bus and apparently you have to buy your ticket ahead of time (again, I don’t do the bus). The driver took us to the next stop, where we waited in the cold for 15 minutes. Then Lady C. turned to me and asked “how do you know what side of the street to stand on?” I almost died – not only were we waiting on the wrong side of the street, but we had already taken the wrong bus in the wrong direction. We crossed the street and waited another 10 minutes in front of a housing complex where lady C. had once eaten french fries with a foreign boy when she was 18. Bus #2 came. We chased it. It was another “express.” We waited another 10 minutes. Bus #3 came. We chased it. It was another “express.” We couldn’t feel our extremities anymore so we snuck on and rode it for free.

This is how I feel about NYC buses (New York Daily News)

This is how I feel about NYC buses (New York Daily News)

So now the movie? No. We still have another 6 hours until then. Once Lady C. left, it was just Lady A and me, so we thought it would be nice to go get dinner and watch that new Zac Efron movie. We went down to SoHo and had a lovely meal at Cafe Select until it was movie time – “Let’s go see the movie in Kip’s Bay because we always go to Union Square jlo-onthe6-galand it’s right on the 6 anyway.” Idiots.

We started going down into the subway station and realized it was going downtown, so we crossed the street. After a couple stops on train #1, we were at the Brooklyn Bridge, last stop. How did this happen? I don’t know. So…we laughed at ourselves and got off to wait for the train on the other side of the tracks. Train #2 comes. After a few stops we realized we are at Wall Street. HOW did this happen twice? So…we got off at Wall Street, went above ground and paid again to get on the apparently elusive uptown 6. Train #3 comes – it’s the 5 so we take it to Union Square and transfer to the 6 again: train #4. Finally 30 minutes after the move has started we are in the right place. We walk 2 blocks in the wrong direction and then turn around and get to the theater. SOLD OUT.

Determined to see this movie after taking an underground tour of the city, we get back on the downtown 6 (train #5) and go to see it at Union Square. NOW, the movie.

0726-webMANHATTANmap-v4 copyHere are my observations:

1. It’s fine – all that would expect from a Zefron movie.

2. Zefron’s face looks bloated and his hands are puffy.

Why didn't he look like this?

Why didn’t he look like this?

3. They go to Cafe Select twice in the movie – coincidence? Fate. (though the inside of “Cafe Select” in the movie isn’t the real interior).

The real inside

The real inside

4. The main girl in the movie is gross looking.

Imogen Poots is the worst name of all time

Imogen Poots is the worst name of all time

5. But I agree with her that having the key to Gramercy Park is super fancy in a good way.

6. Guys in their 20s are incredibly disgusting.

7. It was not worth $14.50, but I was thoroughly entertained. And at 10:15 on Sunday night, it was really the only kind of movie I could handle.

la_ca_1220_that_awkward_momentSO….the point of this whole thing is not to be a movie review. It’s an ode to NYC public transportation. Thank you for getting me to where I want to go even when I am too stupid to figure out life.

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Staten Island Adventure

Daytripping in Staten Island, duh

Daytripping in Staten Island, duh

Last September, upon moving to the great city of New York, Erin and I decided to explore one of the city’s classiest gems – Coney Island. A couple weeks ago, we thought we were overdue for an adventure so we took a little trip to Staten Island – also classy.

There she is. The majestic Staten Island Ferry

There she is. The majestic Staten Island Ferry

Semi-unrealted, at work we have started using an app called Videolicious. It’s an app that let’s you make videos on your phone and “share your story.” I wanted to test it out but needed a story, so I went with our Staten Island adventure. Before I show you my 53-second masterpiece, I’ll share the background story. I could have done this as a voice over in my video, but that’s really awkward.

It was a beautiful Sunday and we could have laid out and tanned, but a free ferry ride to Staten Island seemed like way more fun. I was imaging myself as the trashy Olsen in It Takes Two.

Little Betty Buttkiss

Little Betty Buttkiss

First we made a pit stop at Battery Park so Erin could get somewhat close to the Statue of Liberty. We tried to do that thing people do when they squish landmarks. We weren’t that good at it. Then we watched a Jewish lesbian wedding. Then we headed toward the ferry station.

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When the flood gates opened, we were corralled onto the boat with the masses – and by masses I mean hundreds of small children. There was no deck, so we all stuck out heads out the windows like dogs in a car. It was kind of enjoyable until my eye started watering uncontrollably – but the view was nice.

Anxiously awaiting the luxury ocean liner.

Anxiously awaiting the luxury ocean liner.

photo[4]photo[f]Twenty-five minutes later we were in beautiful downtown St. George. We made a pit stop at the “visitors’ center” and grabbed a map that showed us the town’s attractions and places to eat (good joke, Staten Island). But first, we hung out with all our fellow boat friends and took photos in front of the Manhattan skyline. This is the best we could get from the bitchy foreign girl who took our photo:

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After this, I don’t know where everyone disappeared to. We walked over to the baseball field that seemed to be important to everyone, but it was deserted. So we went to do a loop around town and find somewhere to eat.

We soon discovered that Staten Island comes equipped with San Francisco-style inclines and stagnant air. But most importantly, they take Sundays very seriously. Everything was closed. Not a soul in sight. A couple buying pizza. That’s it.

We walked around keeping an eye out for tumble weeds and all we saw were closed businesses and ghetto delis. Should I be having fomo right now? Is everyone somewhere I don’t know about? Probably civilization where I came from. Then we came across the court house, which had glitter strewn all over the front steps and realized the whole town must be hung over from the rave they had the night before.

Great trip

Great trip

At this point we were sweating and sufficiently creeped out so we checked the time. Three minutes til the next ferry. We sprinted. Made it. Survived. Stuck our heads out the window and never looked back.

Enjoy some memories of the barren streets of St. George to my favorite tune, “beebop”:

A letter to Charlotte, Beyonce and US Airways

Dear the 3 of you,

I’d like to share a story:

I had a lovely week of seclusion on an island where the median age is 70, the speed limit everywhere is 25 mph and everything shuts down at 10:00 p.m. So I was very well-rested and refreshed by the time Saturday rolled around and it was time to come home to reality. That did not last.

We had an hour layover in Charlotte before heading to La Guardia on a 10:00 p.m. flight, so I bought some string cheese and sat down at the gate. 10:00 came and went and we were all still sitting there. Luckily I was sitting across from a Taylor Lautner look-alike so I occupied myself Googling him to find out where in the world he was. Turns out he was in NYC (go figure), so it couldn’t have been him. But I still think it was – he had a Louis Vuitton bag; no normal guy would carry a Louis Vuitton backpack, have long hair, and wear brass knuckles unless they were a werewolf, obviously.

Taylor was sad about teh flight too.

Taylor was sad about the flight too.

Anyway, at 11:00 they finally told us we could not fly to La Guardia because of a curfew….It’s 10pm do you know where your plane is? Not at La Guardia. So they said we could fly to Newark. I mean, gross… New Jersey, but fine whatever. When people started complaining that we had been sitting on the plane without moving for 20 minutes, a flight attendant came over and told us in his North Carolina twang that the flight was late because the flight attendants had been arguing for an hour with the pilot over a urine stench coming from the bathroom. The pilot said he didn’t care – use the pee plane. So now, the pilot was unfit to drive the plane….because he had exceeded his maximum hours of flight for the day…

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They never found a new pilot, so they canceled the flight at midnight and told us we could stay in lovely Charlotte for the night and fly out in the morning. What they meant by that was they would give us a voucher for a discounted hotel room that didn’t exist because all the hotels were booked. Beyonce was in town. But, we were welcome to spend the night in baggage claim….As if I wasn’t already so OVER Beyonce.

I was fuming and having visions of sleeping on the conveyer belt on top of strangers’ duffel bags, so I called every hotel in the area until I found one 20 minutes away that had open rooms.

Now what?

Now what?

Me?

Me?

One $30 cab ride later we were at the Marriott in the heart of Charlotte across from a Hooters. And by “we” I mean myself, my parents and my 18-year-old sister. Of course my mom was ravenous and said we had to drop our bags off upstairs and then head to Hooters. In the elevator we ran into some ladies from our flight and told them how the only reason there weren’t any closer hotels available was because of Beyonce. That actually cheered them up. “Beyonce’s my gurrrl!!!”

Beyonce-s-Publicist-Tries-to-Ban-Unflattering-Super-Bowl-2013-Photos

Hooters was closed, we were told by a man who stumbled out the door and mumbled something about a “curfew.” What is with curfews? It’s 1:00 a.m. do you know where you’re going to eat? Not Hooters.

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So we walked over to “The Epicentre.” This is a three story ring of bars, clubs, late-night food, CVS and CBS studios where the people of Charlotte get WILD. I don’t know if everyone was just high off Beyonce’s energy, but the crowd was rowdy. And I’ve never seen so much side boob, under boob, top boob, side ass, under ass etc. in my life. It’s also a mecca for bachelorette parties.

The Epicentre

The Epicentre

"So good you'll forget your manners."

“So good, you’ll forget your manners.”

I can definitley see how this place could be a good time, but I was too tired and sober to handle it. I was also too tired and sober to handle seeing my dad, the only middle-aged white person in basically the whole city, waiting in line for pizza at 1:30 a.m. with all the drunk people. One girl ran up to him and asked him “Do you think they have any meat lovers’ pizza?” They did; it was on the menu. Of course in the meantime, my mom befriended a schmoozy speed boat salesman that kept dropping names and F-bombs. She thought he was cute – for me. Thanks, mom.

This is also where all the Pokemon have gone

This is also where all the Pokemon have gone

Anyway, after hitting the town, we slept for 3 hours and eventually made it to the beautiful Garden State. Thanks for a great night.

XOXO

Not knowing about the White House

(A photographic tour)

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I took a very Betsy/Arlene tour of DC this weekend. I’ll share some highlights:

We came up to this guy unsure of what building it was.

1002837_10101323815495021_980245927_nUpon further inspection, we thought it might be the White House, but we weren’t sure. There were some people taking photos in front of it, but not many. And there was no line of people or tour of any sort happening. We didn’t want to ask – because that’s embarrassing – so we contemplating pretending to be foreign and confused.

998193_10101323825579811_1646431050_nThen we I had the genius idea of Googling images of the White House for comparison, but it’s shown from two different angles, so still not sure…

Finally we found a plaque stating that this white house was, in fact, THE White House. So we took some photos in front of it.

10351_10101323824591791_275616494_nThen we walked all the way around it – there’s the line we were looking for.

"Ooooh I figured it out."

“Ooooh I figured it out.”

Of course the one time I visit DC, the Washington Monument is covered in scaffolding. It’s my least favorite monument anyway.

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And I got to see it in the distance from a roof-top pool.

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My cousin was too hung over, so this is as close to the Capitol Building as we got

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Also, we drove by the Lincoln Memorial

The side of the Lincoln Memorial at 20 mph

The side of the Lincoln Memorial at 20 mph

A small tornado passed through the area and ended in a magical rainbow.

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I tried Shake Shack for the first time because there actually wasn’t a 5-mile line wrapped around the building (granted it was 2am).

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I finally had the lobster roll I’ve been craving.

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I saw these kids playing

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And I rode the subway, which is a clean, pleasant and sunny experience

Luxury

Luxury

All in all, very successful trip to my nation’s capitol. Mr. President, I shall be back. And next time, I’ll know where you live.

Life in the 305

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I’m gone from the beautiful sunshine of Miami and back into the less-beautiful sunshine of the Northeast. But I’m happy to report that the #PonesMIA (trending domestically) trip was a success and even included an F-list celebrity encounter of the Bravo kind.

I was hoping to rekindle my friendship with Pitbull and/or meet a Real Housewife of Miami, but I got the next best thing – a real (ex)househusband of Miami. My ladies and I decided to go to the “very exclusive, getting in is half the battle” Mynt Lounge where Joanna had her famous meltdown on the Real Housewives.

Ally and Romain

Ally and Romain

This is where my lady’s wildest dreams came true and she met the owner of Mynt and Joanna’s former fiance Romain – who is super hot for 40, and I know he’s 40 because he kept screaming it.

That's Romain - but he's 40.

That’s Romain – but he’s 40.

It really wasn’t that hard to get in to Mynt, but the key is you have to have a table or be a girl and mooch off the DJ and his friends. Also, Bravo did a great job with the camera angles because the club is way smaller than I expected, and it’s completely carpeted and smells kind of like feet. But it was fab anyway.

Other observations: SLS makes you feel like Alice in Wonderland in a good way, Story is very air-conditioned and huge and I don’t remember much else, and Wet Willies is apparently not for white people. Also, the men are not ashamed of an occasional thing bathing suit.

Photos (credit given where credit is due, mi pones):