This is a closeup of the apple tree in the backyard of the house I grew up in.  I should’ve swiped a bag to bring back to the city with me, but I did not.  And life goes on.

Anyway, last night in the grocery store when I was in the ginormous produce section that is filled with crazy shit I’ve never heard of because it’s geared toward the Puerto Rican population in the hood, I spotted a pile of pomegranates.  I discovered this delicious fruit while I was living in Italia and it’s a welcome surprise every time the seasons changes to cooler weather.  The reason is because it doesn’t taste like fall; it’s light and juicy and sweet.  Just like summer.  This has made me come to terms with the fact that the 80 degree sweatfest is officially over.  And I’m okay with that.

This was taken in the backyard of my childhood home in Watertown, NY.  The entire time I was growing up I was under the impression that this was a crab apple tree.  One of many that my dad would pay me, my brother, and any willing friends 10 cents an apple to pick up off the ground so as to not get stuck in the lawnmower.  I always tried to negotiate up to a dollar an apple, but to no avail.  It wasn’t until I was home recently that my aunt picked one off the tree, declared that it looked like a Red Delicious, and took a bite.  Only to find out that these were NOT in fact crab apples.  It’s slightly disappointing that I had no idea I could eat fruit straight from my yard all those years.  I never understood why my dad wanted to cut down those trees in the first place.  They had prime locations for hanging upside down and climbing up pretty damn high so no one knew you were spying.  Ah well.  Life goes on.

I believe I’ve mentioned it before, but my Dad is one badass gardener.  When I showed up a couple weeks ago the fridge was full of fresh tomatoes, zucchini, and cucumbers.  And that was just about the last of it for the summer.  There were still a few tomatoes left on the vines in the backyard which is where I got this shot.  When I was growing up I always ate green beans straight from the garden and we always had homegrown pumpkins for Halloween.  Now, living in a huge ass city where you’re lucky if you have a basil plant growing in your window, I have a much deeper appreciation for the fresh picked stuff that I grew up with.

I’ve begun to believe that there is a direct relationship between the amount of dirt encrusted into your hair/clothes/skin and how hip you are.  Actual location: 2nd ave at St. Mark’s Place.  More photos to come on Flickr (once I get around to going through them).

Excellent places to visit on the hippest street in Manhattan:

1. St Mark’s Ale House: Lots of good stuff on tap including (my) seasonal faves by Sam Adams.  Plus, the staff is awesome.
2. Grassroots Tavern: A dark bar for a good pint.  Recommended for those bitterly cold days of winter.
3. Tahini: Formerly Chickpea, but basically the same good stuff that is dank village falafel.
4. Mamoun’s: Compare it to Tahini.  I can never decide, but I think Mamoun’s is better when drunk and Tahini is better sober.
5. Zen Sushi: Half price sushi and a late night happy hour?  SOLD.
6. Yakitori Taisho: De-sushied Japanese food and pitchers of beer to wash it down.  I’ve only been here with former colleages who knew what to order.  Great food, but beware.
7. Sing Sing: Get your karaoke on.
8. La Palapa: Hands down the best Mexican food I’ve ever had.
9. La Paella: Bangin’ tapas bar.  Go with a group and eat your heart out.
10. Continental: Cheap drinks and live music.  No guarantees the music is good, though.

Rest in Peace:

1. NY Milkshake Company which moved to Midtown… boo to Midtown.  I miss the mint chocolate chip waffle sandwiches.
2. San Marcos had the best margarita specials.  It’s now Grand Sichuan.

As the days are obviously getting shorter, which means we’re getting that much closer to the dreadful ice and snow, I’ve been trying to snap lots of photos of the city in the midst of its summertime goodness.  Oh, I know what you’re thinking, “Fall fashion is so great!”  Not as great as sundresses and sandals.  And definitely not as great as this watermelon.  Fuck fall; I’m rejecting it this year.

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I spent this 4th of July weekend in the Hamptons at an 8 bedroom “house” that a friend rented for the month (apparently the owner of the place is President of Capitol Records — he was there the first night, but didn’t go out with us because he had to go sign Lenny Kravitz… ridiculous, no?).

Upon arriving 5 hours later than planned, three pasty-white city girls stumble into a house full of tall, thin, exotic beauties from Miami.  Inferiority complex?  Just a bit.  They were all very nice, it was just startling and unexpected.  Plus, I do much better in a room full of men than women.  Big groups of chicks are intimidating in themselves.  Which is one of the many reasons I’m glad that I wasn’t born with a penis; it’s better to be part of the flock of wolves that try to circumvent it.

So after securing a bedroom and lounging poolside for the rest of the afternoon, we got ourselves together and headed to Trata* where my friend’s boyfriend is a bartender.  The scene was as follows: blond, botoxed, middle-aged women dressed like 18 year olds clutching their designer bags and towering on $500 heels.  Labels were abundant.  It was a restaurant full of this.  It was terrifying.  And it was a reality check.

The next day we prowled around Sag Harbor where two girls gave us the card in the photograph above.  The name of the store they were promoting made me laugh.  The Hamptons really are about labels.  Even during the day in this little beach town there was enough Lacoste and J. Crew to make my closet full of Urban Outfitters and thrift duds throw up a little bit.

Best part of the trip?  A guy asked my friend for her number to show her a good time the next time she was in town.  This is the dialogue that ensued:

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Oh no?  Why is that?”

“It’s not really my scene.  These people are on another planet.”

“I used to not like it either, but you just have to ignore them… blah blah blah lots of talk about how great the Hamptons are… it gets better.”

“When does it get better?  After you become one of them?”

Basically I realized that yes, I do want to make a shitload of money (who doesn’t?), but there is no way I will ever become part of that crowd.  Though they make a statment - a very extravagant statement - designer labels aren’t something that I ever want to be commonplace in my life.  Fashion isn’t about having THE thousand dollar dress.  It’s about creativity: taking expensive things, cheap things, new things, and old things and making yourself look good.  At least that’s how I see it.

*I would like to note that the food and drinks at Trata are amazing.  If you go early (7 or so), you can miss the Hamptonite crowd and enjoy an amazing Greek dinner.

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The European cappuccino is a force to be reckoned with. I think it’s the simplicity of it. There aren’t a million customizations creating double-shot-extra-hot-no-foam-no-whip-skim-mochas, so you don’t have to spend more than 5 seconds thinking about your morning caffeine fix. And they are far less likely to screw up a process that they’ve already perfected. No worrying you’re getting whole milk instead of soy! And their sugar packets are all long and slender and usually have pretty designs on them. So much better than our Pepto Bismal colored packets containing aspartame infused fake shit. Plus, they always put a cookie on your saucer. Sounds kind of dirty, doesn’t it?

Peeves:

1. Labels and love are the reasons to come to New York?  FUCK.  THAT.  Had I known that - had I been looking for that - I never would have come. As far as I’m concerned, this is the most difficult place in the world to have a lasting relationship. And most of the people I know can barely afford to eat in order to pay their rent, much less splurge on thousand dollar handbags.
2. Some of the cheese just got to be too much. The “love” keychain made me roll my eyes quite a few times. Especially when it turned out to be the password to get to Big. Yuck.
3. P.S. ~ Miss Louise found her love in St. Louis and moved back to the Midwest. If you’re confused as to why this is a peeve, see #1.
4. There’s a Metrocard in Carrie’s bag when she is returning books to the library. In the entirety of all six seasons, Carrie has only taken the subway once: when she was stuck in traffic and needed to get downtown to ring the bell at the stock market (episode To Market, To Market). Why on earth would she start taking the train now when she is A. more successful and B. has Big’s driver at her disposal?
5. With said Metrocard, she could’ve gotten to Miranda’s apartment much faster on New Year’s Eve when the streets were clogged with cabs. But instead she ran 100 blocks on icy sidewalks in pajamas and heels. Cute, yes, but completely unnecessary. Though I do understand that sometimes you need those hundred blocks to clear your head and put yourself in a better place than when you walked out the door, I’m not sure this was the case here.

Loves (and these will far outnumber the bothers):

1. Theme numero 1: Happiness. I loved when Charlotte said that yes, she was in fact happy in her life every single day. It seems like so many people are content with being happy most of the time, or even some of the time. It should be every single day. Otherwise you are settling. Don’t settle.
2. Theme numero 2: Forgiveness. Carrie says to Miranda, “You’re asking me to forgive you after 3 days and you won’t forgive Steve after 6 months?” Miranda replies, “It’s not the same thing.” Carrie says, “It’s forgiveness.” Thank you, Carrie! Forgive and forget and move on with your life. You’re only hurting yourself by holding onto anger. This also means that you can never again use it against the person. Otherwise you haven’t really forgiven, have you?
3. Theme numero 3: Friendship. Obviously the whole movie revolves around this one, but it’s important. When you’re having a tough time in life, sometimes you need someone to show up with a bottle of vodka. Or make you eat when you have no appetite. Or make you get up and get dressed and get out of the house when you really don’t want to. Sometimes your friends do know what’s best for you.
4. Theme numero 4: Love. The biggest one of all (no pun intended, really). Through most of this movie I sat there thinking that I never want to get married, never even want to get involved with anyone ever again. The heartache can be so overwhelming when things go awry. The thing is, though, that you always surface from it. It takes time, but the sadness and loneliness dissipate and then you learn something. In this case, Miranda and Steve learned they couldn’t let their lives get in the way of their marriage. Carrie and Big learned they didn’t need to put on a show for everyone else when all they wanted was each other. Samantha learned she wasn’t meant for relationships regardless of how much she loved someone. And Charlotte, well I think she had love figured out a long time ago.
5. Carrie’s pink sparkly cell phone was duct taped together.
6. The whole Saint Louise thing was cute. Especially when Carrie had to turn off the movie Meet Me in St. Louis because of Judy Garland’s love song. A little bit of cynicism can go a long way in a movie about love.
7. The product placement made me laugh. All of the norms were there (ahem, Manolo Blahnik), but the Vitamin Waters on the chairs at the fashion show? Hi-larious.
8. The Vogue photo shoot. My wet dream realized.
9. The fact that Carrie wants to write about found love and how to keep it. Sequel anyone??
10. Standford Blatch and Anthony Marentino are friends. ‘Nough said.
11. The closet Big builds for Carrie. I would have sex with it if I could. It breaks my heart that she doesn’t get to use it.
12. Carrie’s redecorated apartment. Especially when she’s shopping for desks (”If you have the right desk, the words will come.”)
13. Samantha’s humping puppy. So appropriate.
14. Sushi.
15. The Cinderella thread. Carrie tells Charlotte’s daughter that things don’t always work out like that. In the end Big slips her foot into her gorgeous blue Manolos. We’ll call it Cheese Well Done.
16. The movie ended zooming out from the center of the Meatpacking District - my favorite neighborhood in this most glorious city - catching glimpses of Soho House and Hotel Gansevoort. Two of my favorite places because, in addition to other reasons, I’ve had some very awesome incidents there as of late.

I’m sure I could go on, but this is already a rather long list. There was a good portion of the movie that I sat there thinking, “I don’t like this. It’s making me too sad.” But then they made Charlotte shit her pants. I came away from it smiling. I think they did great justice to the show. Just like Carrie’s first book dedication, it’s for hopeful women everywhere.

On Thursday evening, I had tickets to an advance screening of the movie at the AMC Times Square theater. I got there over an hour early since I imagined there would be a line. Boy, was I right. The theater (there was only one reserved for this purpose?!) hit capacity long before I got in and there were still hundreds of people behind me. The issue of overbooking the theater by hundreds of people is something to be discussed in itself, but it didn’t really bother me all that much. I was in good company and we decided it’s probably better to live sex and the city rather than watching it on the big screen. We ended up going for food and drinks at HK. Sexy, sexy.

Anyway, it got me thinking about the fact that there have been countless premieres and advance screenings and parties in honor of this movie. Excuse me, hit HBO show turned movie. The hype has gotten unreal. Even my friend that lives in Corona, California (pretty small town) sent me a text saying there was a huge premiere for it with ladies everywhere decked out in pink feather boas. The hype has become huge. Bigger than big, if you will (pun intended).

Last night I downloaded the soundtrack because I had previously visited the official website of the movie and loved the music playing on it, but couldn’t find the tracks. The song I had noticed more than the others was India.Arie’s version of The Heart of the Matter. When I saw the track list I was quite pleased that it was her as it’s such a lovely version of the song and I’ve always been a fan of the soulful singer. In fact, the whole album is quite sweet from the nostalgic collaboration of Al Green and Joss Stone on How Can You Mend a Broken Heart to The Bird and the Bee’s light and airy vocals on How Deep is Your Love to Run-D.M.C.’s version of Walk This Way to the touching love song Kissing by Bliss (I could go on - I’ve even come around to Fergie’s talk of Manolo’s). After listening to the album on repeat 3 or 4 times, I decided that I needed to go see how these songs played out while the fantastic four ran around NYC trying to figure out their lives. After all, my DVD’s aren’t worn out for nothing. These girls are my friends and I want to go see how the last 4 years of their lives have been.

This morning I got up and put the album on again while I got ready to head out. There were shows pretty much every hour so I figured I’d be able to find one that wasn’t sold out without buying a ticket online. Well that was most certainly a dumb ass decision. I showed up to the theater on 3rd ave in the East Village and every single show was sold out until 11:30pm. Again, I wasn’t all that flustered since I probably should have known better.

But it got me thinking about how the craze surrounding the flick has spun it into a huge blockbuster-sized film. Why is it so big? I mean, it was a hit TV show, but still, in essence, a TV show. And then I realized that it’s really quite simple. It’s because it was an extraordinary TV show that broke boundaries and the hype is reflecting that significance. It was always relatable, but without ever going over the top. You could understand what they felt and what they were going through. The situations weren’t out there, they always hit close to home.

Walking down St. Mark’s Place on my way to the theater I passed by St. Mark’s Comics which always reminds me of the episode Hot Child in the City (yes, I know the episode name off the top of my head) when Carrie goes to get her shoes fixed and finds a cute younger man has replaced the shoe repair shop with a comic book store. Every time I walk by there I crane my neck to see if there are any cute boys in there. You see the impact this show has on people?!

Since I haven’t seen the movie (though I have seriously tried), I don’t know what happens. But seeing as it’s become this huge thing, it seems like what is called for is a blockbuster-sized storyline. If it’s not, the masses may come away disappointed because the movie wasn’t earth-shattering. However, the show was never really that out there. It was life. Maybe extravagantly dressed life, but the fashion came second to the relationships.

The point I’m trying to make is that if the movie is some crazy tragic story, then it becomes unrelatable and thus loses the thread of greatness that weaved the show together so well. I’m not really sure what to expect other than seeing the girls parading down 5th ave decked out in some expensive labels, but I hope it stays true to it’s roots: a smart show (movie) with thoughtful points made on life and love.

And so, while I wait for the crowds to die down, I’ll be out in living my life in this fabulous city. In fact, I’m going to be late to meet friends because I’ve been sitting here typing instead of living. And on that note, I’m out.

At any given moment while walking down the streets of Amsterdam, there are probably about 10 bicycles flying at you at an alarming rate. At first it’s a little startling to realize that you have to be hyper aware because it’s not only cars and trams going in every direction on streets that look like sidewalks (cobblestones anyone?), but also major bike paths are added to the mix. Pedestrians on foot do NOT have the right of way.

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However, it’s pretty sweet to see every street littered not with trash (it’s a super clean city), but bikes! They are EVERYWHERE. Tied up to anything that can fit a bike lock around it. Piled on top of each other. Spilling out of buildings and into the street. And they all look pretty much exactly the same. Which is probably why 2 million are stolen each year over there.

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I had intended to rent a bike for a day or two, but became a little intimidated since they fly through intersections and crowds and usually manage to not hit anyone. (I did witness a couple of collisions, but they kind of just laughed and kept on their way. I swear, the Dutch are the most easygoing people ever.) If I ever decide to move over there, I’ll man up and kick that city’s ass on two wheels. If they can listen to their iPods, talk on cell phones, and navigate in heels WHILE ON A BIKE, why can’t I?