Getting myself to keep this thing up requires a whole lot more effort than I thought it would...maybe more than I can even afford to give. But today is a day off, and days off are tricky. Especially when they're on Mondays. Today I'm going to get my computer fixed...and probably have a slice of pizza. The rest, though, is so unknown. When there is this little to do on a Monday, it's harder for me to make excuses.
Kyra left yesterday, which means the last five days have been a long and drawn-out non-stop good-bye party. Which is why last night I broke a personal record and slept for 16 hours.
The week went somethin' like:
Tuesday: Split a fancy cucumber martini with Kyra at Simone's in the East Village. Talked about recent bad decisions and then accidentally found ourselves exchanging wedding plans. Oh, Kyra. Stopped by to say hello to a friend of Kyra's at 10 Degrees on St. Mark's at 1st. This place was so poshy I wanted to throw up in my Forever 21 $15.00 hand bag. Met up with Scott, Julio, Jeff and Brett at the Belgian Beer House because it looked dive-y. But, dive-y in the East Village means you pay $11 for a beer instead of $18 for a cocktail.
Wednesday: Was supposed to meet up with Will Ma and K. Davis, and Al to wish Mr. William a bon voyage back to La-La-Las Vegas. Instead, got stuck on the F train for almost two hours because someone went and had a heart attack. Come on! Ended up at Ms. Jenny Wendell's three-story mansion in TriBeCa watching Sex in the City in a king size postra-pedic bed (she was just house-sitting).
Thursday: Facials and eye-brow waxing with the Davis for like $2 a pop cuz I got some promotional thing. They facials were mediocre, but were certainly too much of a bargain to complain about. Feeling fresh and clean, we headed over to Otto, Mario Battalli's place on 8th St and 5th to celebrate Jenny's 23rd. Any time spent with Jenny Wendell and her entourages is a good time. The bar was jam-packed and blaring techno-dancey music that made it feel like a party. Their blood-orange "bellini" was tart, smooth and the perfect coral color. However, there was nothing bellini like about it, so I was a little unsure of their name choice. I ended up getting yelled at by the bartender for bringing a salted-caramel tart into the restaurant. I cried a lot in front of everyone. I complained to management, crying. I kept crying all the way to 7th and St. Christopher where I found Lu, Zu and their puppy Guru (?) on the corner. I finally stopped crying after buying myself two Papaya Dogs and an large side of fries. I think it cost me a little under $4.00. Drinking a light, Belgian beer at some place I don't know the name of, I fell asleep mid-sip and decided it was time to got home.
Friday: Free concert by the sea-side! Met up with Kyra, Francis and K's cousin Lindsey (who is quite a doll) for The National. I brought along some frangipane, croissants, and extra ganached brownies in a little white paper bag to snack on but they were quickly soaked by the thunderstorm that blessed us and got soggy. Got home just in time to find Kim and her buds from Santa Cruz feasting on greasy Chinese and Sierra Nevada. Yummm. The night ended perfectly with some quality YouTube viewing:
Saturday: Left early for work to get hair cuts with K-Dawg to be prepped for a long night out in Brooklyn. Started at Commonwealth on 5th Ave and 11th...Commonwealth has decently priced cocktails, a rad female bartender named Charlene who has a crazy crazy blond mane, and easily the best juke-box in town. Went to the Tavern (which is actually called "_____'s Tavern" but they haven't paid for new neon lights just yet) also on 5th...the home of $1.50 mugs of Bud Light! Fratty Brooklyn local boys and stupidly cheep Budweiser make the Tavern my favorite place for when I'm feeling trashy, which, embarrassingly, is decently often. Finally stumbled into Excelsior which turned out to be the 40 year old gay male hangout. They had X-Rated Vodka! My mom and I tried X-Rated at Nick's Martini Lounge in Beverly Hills this past June and I've been searching for it ever since. It is the very best bottle of booze ever made. I got home at 5:00 and made a delicious drunk meal of broccoli, peas, and brown rice sauteed in teriyaki sauce.
Sunday: Woke up feeling much less hungover than expected and made brunch with Gael. Eggs with chicken pesto sausages, extra-ripe tomatoes, grilled onions, goat cheese and fresh basil from our back-yard. Little Kyra was a tired puppy, but she sipped her mango juice with a smile and savored her last morning in New York. It was sad.
Gael, Me and our Sunday Feast
The Last Supper of New York Summer
I'm gonna have a hard time being a food writer if my diet continues the way it's been going. This weeke I've eaten: pastries, the open-face sandwich I make everyday for myself at work with kalmata olive bread, olive tapenade, white onion, ham, and two slices of gruyere in the toaster, and pizza. I love pizza. My favorite pizza joints tend to be the places that have 8 year olds working the counter at 3:30 am; though I probably shouldn't be giving those people my patronage.
Not having a toaster means you have to soak your bread in butter and then fry it on the stove. I haven't struck the perfect balance between heat and butter quite yet so for breakfast this morning I ate butter with a side of soggy toast. It was a bad start. An hour and a half later, I had lunch. Lunch was a brownie and an oatmeal chocolate-chip cookie. For dinner, perhaps, I'll have a heart attack.